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“I just call ’em like I see ’em, Jamie.”
He chuckled and clapped me on the shoulder. “You’d better look again.”
That was exactly the problem. I couldn’t keep looking. Not if I wanted to keep my feelings for him under control.
JAMESON
I was greeted by the sound of boots on the hardwood floor heading my way as I stood in the kitchen, polishing off the last of the coffee. Killian had left the house before I woke, leading me to believe that I had somehow pissed him off. He was also back to his old tricks of using ranch work as a way to get away from me. I didn’t know how to get through to him because it felt like with each stride forward we made, I was always on the verge of being forced ten steps backward. It was frustrating, and if I was honest, bleeding annoying.
I wanted this to work for a multitude of reasons, but I couldn’t deny that a big part of me enjoyed his company when he wasn’t being a grumpy arse.
He appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with one arm over his head, hat still on, dressed in sinfully tight jeans and a black western-style shirt with what looked like mother-of-pearl snaps down the front. The way the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows had my attention focused on the muscular forearms he was displaying.
“How do you look like this first thing in the morning?”
“Like what?”
“Like you just stepped out of a bloody photo spread for the cowboy issue of Men’s Health.”
His soft huff of laughter and the pink creeping up his cheeks told me I’d gotten to him. Good. He needed his feathers ruffled.
“Come on,” he said. “Get your shit.”
“What?” I asked.
He came over, snagged my mug, and brought it to his lips, polishing off the remainder of my coffee.
“Oi, you tosser. I was enjoying that.”
“I’ve got something better, trust me.”
Heaving a sigh, I followed him to the foyer, where I found a pair of boots waiting for me.
“You’ll want a jacket. It’s chilly this morning.”
He jerked his chin toward the rack, which housed a couple of work coats, and then above that, two hats, one a baseball cap, the other the cream cowboy hat I borrowed when we mucked out stalls together.
“What the devil are we doing?” I asked.
“I’m taking you riding. There’s no way on God’s green earth I’m gonna let my sister-in-law teach you. She’d never let me hear the end of it if she got her hooks in you.”
“Okay, but surely, we can do that a little later.”
“Is it too early for you? Are you still dealing with jetlag? I would have thought you’d be adjusted by now.”
“Are you sassing me, Killian Wilde?”
He grinned. “Maybe I am.”
So, this was playful, friendly Killian. Not the broody, avoiding-responsibility country star. I could work with that. I slipped my feet into the boots, snagged a jacket, then put on the hat. He gave me an approving nod after letting his eyes rake over me.
“So you’ve been around horses more than once, right?”
“If you consider looking at them and patting them being around them, you could say that.”
“But you’re not afraid of them?”
“No, I think they’re beautiful animals.”
