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Among other things. Shit, this was going to be torture. Good torture, but still. Pure torture.
Her ponytail swished as she tilted her head to look inside the window when I parked in front of her. I got out and shoved my hands in the pockets of my joggers to keep from grabbing her. “Hey, cutie.”
She looked me up and down, and I didn’t miss the way her eyes glazed over for a second as she stared at me. “Whoa, your shirt looks like something from the Avengers.”
I glanced down at the honeycomb-patterned silver fabric. It kind of did. “You have a problem with geeks?”
“No, but you didn’t do that on purpose. So that’s kind of funny.”
My fingers itched to pinch her rosy cheeks. “Hilarious. You ready?”
“Ready for what? You’re being disturbingly cryptic about this.”
I flashed her a grin. “Come on, you can’t guess?” I led her around the other side to the passenger-side door and opened it for her. “Think about our conversations.”
She hopped up and plopped her perfect ass on the leather seat. “Uh… you’re going to let me watch you lift stuff while I sip an iced caramel macchiato?”
I made a mental note that she liked iced caramel macchiatos. “Not even close.” I slid into my seat while she thought. After I buckled my seatbelt, I put the truck in drive and coasted out of the small parking lot.
“You’re not going to make us hike, are you? I’m probably the only one who doesn’t put ‘loves hiking’ on her dating profile,” she said.
I scowled slightly. “Where do you have an online dating profile?”
“I don’t,” she admitted. “But if I did, I wouldn’t put anything about hiking on it.”
I snorted. “Okay, well, give me a little credit. I might have only known you for a week, but I know enough not to take you hiking on our first date.”
She got a funny look on her face like she had just realized we had only known each other for a week.
“I guess you’ll just have to suffer in silence until we get there,” I sighed.
“I don’t suffer in silence. I babble awkwardly to fill it until my mouth hurts.”
The idea of Laurel’s mouth full of anything—or specific things—caused me to smooth my hand over my own lips. “Babe, I like everything about your mouth.” She went ghost pepper red.
When we turned onto the dirt road under the large sign that read “McKaydee Ranch,” Laurel’s delectable mouth made an oval, and she rolled down her window to poke her head around my sideview mirror. “Are those… goats?” she asked incredulously.
I smiled in response.
“You actually found goat yoga?” she asked in disbelief.
“I don’t make promises I don’t intend to keep,” I reminded her.
As I hoped, that seemed to hit her with a bit of sobering truth. Good. The sooner she learned it, the smoother my evil plan would go.
Our teacher was a tiny Korean-American yogi hippie who seemed thrilled to have a full class that included Laurel and me along with three other couples. With the sun warm on our heads, she led us through sayasanas to begin, and Laurel immediately launched into a fit of giggles when a baby goat hopped on her during downward dog.
I grinned at her from under my arms, enjoying the view of her round, pert ass in spandex and the way her laugh trickled over my skin like a feather duster. It didn’t get much better than that. Her eyes crinkled adorably at the edges as she scrunched up her face and lowered her hips to the ground to upward dog, doing her best to keep the bleating animal from falling off her bum.
I mimicked her movements, and another goat, larger than Laurel’s, walked up my legs like a ramp. I looked over my shoulder at it. “I’m not as nice as she is,” I warned it.
Laurel, still laughing, said, “Oh, yeah right. You’re clearly the animal-loving type. I’m only surprised you don’t already have a dog.”
I went back into downward dog, grunting as the goat wobbled on my spine, apparently unconcerned with being tipped forward. “I’m not home often enough to have a dog.”
“See?” she grinned, pushing her butt back into the air. “You’re worried about the dog. You’re all rainbows and glitter.”
We both straightened, forcing the goats off our backs, and I gave her a look that I hoped reflected every dark, sinister daydream I had about her. “How much you want to bet on that, Miss Brook?”
