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“I just don’t talk about it much. It hurts, you know?”
“Yep,” I agree.
“Of course you know,” he says with a soft sigh. “Being a kid sucks, right?”
“Depends,” I say. “I hope Matthias never thinks so.”
“He won’t. Because you’re an amazing mom.”
“Thank you,” I lean back on the bench and watch the sun setting over the fields. “It’s beautiful here.”
“It sure is,” he agrees. “You see that huge oak?”
“Yeah?”
He laughs. “I had my first kiss under that tree.”
“You did? With Shannon by any chance?”
“No, with Amy-Lou Wainwright.”
“Amy-Lou?” I arch an eyebrow at him.
“She had long auburn pigtails.” He shakes his head. “And the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen.”
“Where is she now?”
“I have no idea. Probably married with a dozen kids.”
“Was she just your first kiss?” I bump my shoulder against his.
“Jesus, yes! I just told you I left when I was thirteen.”
“Okay. Some people have sex that early.”
He frowns at me. “Did you?”
A memory of my thirteenth birthday almost steals the breath from my lungs. I jump up from my seat. “When you said you were showing me around, I thought you meant the horses and such. Not where you and Amy-Lou got your freak on.”
He pushes himself up off the bench. “We did not get our freak on. Don’t taint the memory of my first kiss.” He pushes me gently and then walks past me toward the stables.
I admire the beautiful horses as Jax introduces me to each one by name. I’ve never seen one up close before.
“I didn’t realize they were so big,” I say as I rub the nose of Zena, one of the mares. “Is it scary to be up there riding one?”
He comes up behind me, the heat from his body makes goosebumps prickle along my forearms. “A little, if you’re not used to it, but there’s nothing else like it. I can teach you while you’re here if you like.”
“Could you? I would love that?”
“Sure,” he whispers, his face so close to me that I feel the warmth of his breath on my neck. I imagine his lips dusting over the delicate skin there and think of how good it would feel if he unzipped my jeans and slid his hand inside. We stand like that, our bodies so close together but not quite touching—hearts pounding, breathing getting deeper and faster.
“You want to meet my horse?” He steps away and walks to the next stall, breaking the spell.
“Sure,” I follow him until I come face to face with a beautiful black horse. He clearly recognizes his owner as he dips his head and rubs it over Jax’s chest, making him laugh.
“This is Bastian,” he says.
“Hey, handsome,” I say as run my hand over the silky smoothness of his neck and for a second Jax’s eyes lock on mine and there it is again. That tension that seems to follow us wherever we go.
