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Sixty-something gray-haired Winston “Win” Daughtry ambled from the main office and asked, “Everything okay, boss?”
Sam tossed him a smirk. Flicked a hand at his wet chest. “Does it look like everything’s okay?”
Win chuckled. “Sorry about that, boss. I forgot to tell you the faucet’s broke. I called Harvey. He’s coming out tomorrow. So, uh … Don’t use the sink until then.”
Sam yanked a few paper towels from the dispenser, pressed them to his chest, and sardonically said, “Thanks for the heads-up.”
His employee and friend told him, “I would have mentioned it sooner, but I’ve been on the phone with Jeanette Hadley, who’s willing to come up from Phoenix and work with Layton Travers and his horse to help groom them for nationals. Like you wanted.”
“Layton’s ready for the big time. Jeanette will be an additional asset to his training.”
“So good news there. Might wanna change your shirt, though.” Win returned to the office.
It was noon, so Sam made his way to the house. He found Scarlet at the dining table tapping rapidly on the keyboard of her laptop while also speaking into her Bluetooth earpiece. She’d taken a shower and changed into a sweater and jeans with hiking boots. Too bad. He’d liked her in his clothes. Liked her bare legs even more.
When he entered she dropped off her call and said, “I made venison stew with the leftover roast. I hope you don’t mind. I got the recipe off the Internet and it was really about the only thing I could whip up. Not so handy in the kitchen, you know?”
“I think you’ve been doing just fine.” He went down on his haunches to get a good look at Rudy, huddled under the table at Scarlet’s feet. “And you are definitely loving every minute of it.”
“He yipped,” she said.
Sam’s head popped up. “Pardon me?”
She snapped the lid of her computer closed and said, “He heard a noise coming from the driveway, took a few seconds to decide whether he actually wanted to get to his feet, finally did, then yipped. Just once. A little one. It was cute. Not exactly authoritative, but let’s keep that between the two of us. No need to give him any sort of inferiority complex.”
Sam grinned. “He must’ve heard Brent with the snow mover. Comes by after a good dumping and clears it all out so folks can get up that long drive.”
“Lots of activity around here.”
“Yeah, it’s kind of nice.”
“And what’s with the wet look?”
Sam glanced down at his soaked chest. “Small accident in the stables.” He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it up. Then he stalked into the laundry room. Went to the back where the machines were, stripped off his shirt, and tossed it into the dryer. He grabbed a clean T-shirt from a recently folded load on the shelf and turned to head into the kitchen.
Scarlet was standing along the pantry counter, where she’d apparently been gathering a few treats for Rudy from the box. But her gaze was fixated on Sam, her hand mid-air. She gaped.
A surge of testosterone had him taking a few steps toward her, another grin on his face.
The long cords of her neck pulled tight as she drew in a deep breath.
Sam said, “Like what you see, darlin’?”
She was drink
ing him in. Looking a bit spellbound.
He closed the gap between them, until they were mere inches from each other. He tossed the shirt on the counter. Placed a hand on her hip. She released the treats in her fist and instead gripped the granite ledge behind her.
Sam’s thumb slid under the hem of her sweater and swept over her silky skin. Brushing back and forth.
His head lowered to hers and he said, “No mixed signals here. I’m telling you exactly what I want. Touch me, Scarlet.”
She continued to stare at him. The anticipation mounted. His cock throbbed in wild beats.
Finally, she pried her good hand from the ledge and her nails skated over his abs, the light touch causing his muscles to flex. Her fingertips moved slowly upward to his pecs. She clearly marveled over him and that excited him even more.
As her palm skimmed over his shoulder and down his biceps, she offered him her other hand. “Take the bandage off.”
