“Is it because you got bucked off?” He lifts a brow. “I saw you on TV.”
Maddox chuckles, leading Sugar Foot out of her stall.
I flip him off over Trace’s head. “Yeah, buddy. Hurt my shoulder pretty bad.”
“It was kind of scary,” he admits with a shrug. “My momma cried.”
My whole body stills as he grabs Tater Tot’s lead rope, then saunters off behind Maddox like that statement didn’t just about knock me to my knees.
Chapter fourteen
Laiken
It’s Friday.
One week down.
Almost one full week of spending two grueling hours a day as close as one can get to Parker Stillwater. My hands have touched almost every part of him, and I’ve practically popped every blood vessel I have trying to appear unaffected. To appear casual yet professional. Cool and collected. Dodging his attempts at dredging up memories and directing every touch to the professional zone. His muscles are bigger. Sturdier than theyused to be. His body is strong, and those tattoos are a hazardous distraction.
Only five more weeks and he’s gone.
That’s the only thing holding me together. That and the fact he shattered my heart beneath his dirty boots without a care in the world.
I have just dropped off Trace and was pulling into my driveway to prepare for today’s session. My eyes squint against the morning sun.
“What the heck?” I mumble as I park my SUV next to Micky Mack’s truck.
Along with three other plumbing trucks.
When I climb out of my car, Micky approaches.
“Morning. We’re here to get started. It would be better for you and Trace to stay somewhere else until next week. We should have this wrapped up by next Thursday or Friday.”
I blink. “I’m sorry. I thought we discussed six weeks.” I motion a hand to the house. “I can’t pay for this right now.”
He nods. “Actually, the invoice has been covered.”
“Been covered?” I repeat, narrowing my eyes.
“Yeah. In full.” He braces his hands on his hips, his eyes glancing back at the house.
“By who?” I question.
He scratches his chin, and I can tell by his hesitation I won’t like this answer. “Uhhh, you know, maybe you should hash this out with him.”
Him.
Call it a sixth sense, but I have an inkling of whoheis.
“Thanks, Micky.” I turn to my SUV. “I’ll be back.”
I’m once again barreling up the gravel drive of the Mayson Ranch because a certain bull rider thinks he can meddle in my business. I pass the main house, waving at Ruthie, who’s sitting on the front porch in a rocking chair. I make a mental note to stop by and say hi after I’ve shoved my tennis shoe up Parker’s firm behind.
Slinging gravel, I come to a stop in front of the barn, and like he can sense my arrival, the cocky cowboy steps out into the sunshine,shirtless.
And barefoot.
God really is testing me today.
