Page 76 of One Wild Chance

“Oh, thanks,” she says, pouring a cup of coffee. I sneak a glance at her instead of focusing on the email in front of me.

I love seeing her first thing in the morning, her blonde ponytail brushing her shoulders and a tank top peeking out from under her denim shirt. She’s a distraction I don’t have time for, but some things are worth losing focus over.

“What are you working on?” she asks, sitting down beside me with her breakfast.

“Email to Branford Farms. Earl told me Branford’s moving a section of fence and he suspects, based on the stakes he put in the ground, it’s on our land. I rode out there last night, but it was too dark to take any pictures. So I’m riding again this morning, and then sending him a friendly reminder to stay off our property.”

She lifts her brows. “Need some backup?”

“Don’t you have mares to check on?”

“I do. But if you want company on the fence line⁠—”

“I can wait until you’re done at the broodmare barn,” I answer before she even finishes.

“Perfect. I want to do a quick check on a mare and make sure I don’t need to call the vet.”

While she’s still talking, an email slides into the general farm inbox.

Hey, pretty lady,

Sorry to email you at work, but I was hoping you might want to come to the Friday night concert with me.

My jaw clenches. Pretty lady? Then I see whose name it is and roll my eyes. Blaine the Drain.

“Anyway,” Summer says, completely unaware that I’m now composing an inappropriate response in my head. “Do you mind waiting a few minutes?”

“Sure,” I say absently, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. Dear Jerkface…

I hit the delete button.

The professional thing is to forward it to her. Don’t engage. But I can’t help myself.

Summer will be busy on Friday, and every day after that, indefinitely. Please direct all future correspondence to anyone else but her. She is totally out of your league. Several leagues, actually. And if you ever call her “pretty lady” again, I will personally introduce you to my horse, who does not share my restraint.

I highlight it all and hit delete.

I am a reasonable man. But when it comes to Blaine going anywhere near Summer, I can’t be reasonable.

The man called her pretty lady in a work email through the farm’s general inbox. Apparently, he doesn’t even have her personal contact information, which means she hasn’t given it to him…and why does that realization make me feel so darn smug right now?

I mean, if Blaine Callahan wants to ask Summer out, the least he could do is ask her like a real man and not like some loser sending a company memo.

“Jaxon?” Summer asks.

I look up and see her studying me. “You’re just staring at your computer screen.”

“You got an email.” I turn the laptop toward her. “From Blaine.”

She leans in to read it before turning the computer back to me with a “Hmm.”

If she wanted to go out with him, wouldn’t she show a little more excitement than hmm?

“Seems like he’s pretty interested in you,” I say in an even voice.

She pushes her eggs around with her fork. “Does that bother you?”

“Nope,” I say. “Just didn’t know Golden Springs had any social events.”