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"Wonder how long she'd last shoveling horseshit, huh Derringer?" I said, leading him closer to where the couple stood talking. Jenna had caught a glimpse of me and Derringer as we'd started up the stone driveway. It seemed that she was working all that much harder trying to keep the guy's attention. I could now see why.
"Hottie tomattie," I whispered. He looked a bit older than the usual college workers employed during the summers. Probably a townie who worked full-time year round I guessed. Good God he's built. He was around 6'3", muscularly built, dark brown hair that was thick and tousled at the moment; firm flat belly, broad shoulders and damn what his gluts did to those low slung jeans he was wearing ought to be against the law. He had a white tee-shirt on that hugged his ripped abs in all the right places. It was my turn to fan myself and Jenna caught it. I heard her flirtatious giggle float down the drive as we closed in.
"Well well," she called out, "I see you're out with the beast again, Tylar! Ever going to get enough nerve to put a saddle on him and ride over?"
I see Scarlett's trying to impress ole Rhett here with her Southern charm - Bitch!
The townie turned his attention to me and Derringer; immediately a look crossed over his face that was not good. I was close enough now to see the color of his eyes and they were blue. No, that's an understatement; they were more than blue, they were piercing sapphire blue and at this very moment, they were an extremely pissed-off blue!
He immediately excused himself from Jenna and jumped down from the porch, taking long, angry strides towards me and the horse.
What the hell?
As he reached us, he immediately looked me over top to bottom, then bottom to top, his hands now resting on his hips, standing in a half-slouch that was really, really hot. Damn, he's got a flippin' chin dimple. My first instinct was to flinch because beneath my faux street-smart demeanor, I'm actually quite passive and avoid confrontation whenever possible. Given the fact that Jenna was standing on the porch observing us and probably expecting me to high-tail it out of there was just enough to spark a bit of courage in me so as to hang on to the faux cocky attitude I was trying to pull off.
"Why do you have Derringer over here?" he asked abruptly.
What's it to you hottie?
"I'm just taking him out for some exercise is all."
"What's wrong with letting him out in the fenced pasture?" he pressed.
"Well, there's nothing wrong with it I guess," I faltered, "I mean sometimes he just likes it when I lead him you know to different places; you know a change of scenery for him."
"I see," he said, regarding me beneath his thick lashes, his anger appearing to have dissipated somewhat.
"I mean if you're worried I'm going to let him loose around the pigs or your smokehouse, you don't have to worry about that, I keep his reins firmly in my grasp. I don't allow him to wander without me."
"That's good to know," he replied tersely, his eyes flickering over the horse as if I'd allow some harm to come to him.
What's his deal? He gives new meaning to the word uptight.
"So, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take him over to the horse barns so he can visit with some of his buds," I said, clicking my tongue to get him moving. Derringer didn't budge.
"Come on, boy" I urged, tugging a bit harder on his lead rein, clicking my tongue again. Nothing. I saw a smile flicker over the townie's face, a cheek dimple now appearing.
Oh my!
"Yes I see the control you have over the beast," he said. "I can't imagine that spirited animal would give you any problems at all."
Okay. Now he's making fun of me which is so not cool.
This was no time for Derringer to morph into a stubborn mule yet he had. The townie had his arms crossed in front of him, thoroughly enjoying my displeasure and embarrassment. From the porch, I heard Jenna's delighted cackle as she observed the horse's refusal to comply with my commands.
"Don't you have a pig to roast, Rhett?" I lashed out at him, tugging harder on Derringer's lead forcing the horse to take a step.
"Derringer halt," his smooth and silky voice called, as he took the reins from my hands, and dropped them to the ground.
What the??
Derringer didn't budge; dropping his head to graze on the grassy patch beside the drive. My eyes immediately flew back to look at the townie who was now smiling at me wickedly.
"The name's Trey," he said, "And yours?"
"Tylar Preston," I replied, "I take it you don't work over at the smokehouse?"
"No, I don't. At the moment I'm overseeing the entire operation here while my parents are in Europe."
