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When I found a particularly tender spot, Richard groaned even louder. “Marry me,” he murmured under his breath.
I chuckled awkwardly and pulled away, realizing suddenly how very out of bounds I was. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to…”
Want you? Touch you? Get hard for you?
Richard’s face tilted back up, and his eyes met mine. He looked so sweet, so vulnerable in that moment that I had an unmistakable desire to trail my hands into his hair and pull him against me. Not even to kiss—though that desire was there as well—but to lie down next to him and hold him while he slept.
“Get some rest,” I said in a gruff voice. “Morning comes early around here.”
His eyes didn’t leave mine as he nodded slowly. There was something there, something I didn’t want to define. Hunger, maybe. Or… hell. It was probably simple exhaustion.
“Lie back,” I said softly, pulling the covers back and nudging him to lie down. “Sleep.”
He did as he was told, and once he was settled, I stood and started for the door.
“Sorry.” His voice was so soft I wasn’t sure he’d even spoken. I assumed I must have just misheard when he added, “Promise I’ll do better.”
My heart squeezed into a tight ball. He sounded so dejected. So unlike the confident and cocky Richard who’d waltzed onto my ranch the day before. I cleared my throat. “You did good, Rich,” I told him. “Real good. You worked hard.”
He snorted, his eyes still closed. “Scared of… duck.”
It took me a minute to realize he was talking about his riding lesson. “Nah, she’s a good girl. You did all right.”
A faint smile traced the corners of his lips, followed quickly by a long sigh and then a soft snore. He’d fallen asleep. I stood for a moment, watching him. He really was a beautiful man—soft curls and perfect skin and a strong jaw. Asleep, he looked even younger and more innocent than when he was awake, tossing out bawdy jokes and flirting with everything that moved.
I wanted to move toward him and to push the curls away from his face. Press a kiss to his forehead. I’d even taken a step toward the bed when a rustle of dog tags snapped me from my staring. Birdie jumped up onto the bed and curled against Richard, her chin resting on his leg. “You’ve got to be kidding,” I whispered at her. “You’re not allowed on the bed.”
Her big eyes blinked up at me without remorse. We both knew I wasn’t about to kick her off. If she wanted to be there with him, there wasn’t a damned thing I could do to stop her. If I tried to take her back to the house with me, she’d just make a nuisance of herself all night.
Besides, it was better she slept with Richard than I did. At least that’s what I told myself as I flicked off the overhead light and started to pull the door shut. I hesitated before closing it all the way. “You did good,” I said again in a soft voice I knew he couldn’t hear through his dreams.
Then I turned and strode for the exit before I second-guessed myself and did something I’d regret. Once outside, I paused, taking deep breaths of the night air and trying to clear my mind. It didn’t help. I could still smell Richard on my clothes. On my hands. Any distance I’d gained from my ride that afternoon was gone.
“Fuck,” I cursed under my breath, pulling out my phone and dialing Oscar before I could think better of it.
“Two calls in one week, Boone?” he teased. “I’d ask to what I owed this pleasure, but I guess we both know.” He sighed. “I’ll send the plane back for him.”
I didn’t understand. “The plane?”
“Yes, my plane. To pick up Richard. I thought the stubborn ass would last more than a day, if only to win our bet, but maybe I gave him too much credit. Regardless, thanks for giving it a try. I owe you one.”
Something about his flippant tone grated at me. “Actually, Oscar, Richard’s asleep in the bunkhouse. He worked his ass off today.”
There was a beat of silence on the other end, then a laugh. “Doing what? Styling his hair? Making Spotify playlists? Taking selfies?”
I kicked a weed that had sprung up at the edge of the gravel path. Okay, so he wasn’t wrong about the selfies. But still. “Doing everything my other hands do—mucking stalls, hauling feed, forking hay, cleaning troughs. He practically fell asleep in his mashed potatoes at dinner.”
Oscar was quiet for a long moment. “You sure we’re talking about the same guy? Flighty, flirtatious, over-sequined, smarts off at the drop of a hat, never takes anything seriously? That Richard?”
“Yeah.” I pictured the monstrosity of a hat Richard had donned the day before and felt my lips twitch up in reluctant amusement. “That’s the one.”
