Page 16 of Your Worst Fear
“And you’re notsharingthat?”
He grabbed my arm by the crook of my elbow and steered me toward the exit. “No.”
“Asshole,” I muttered.
He pretended he didn’t hear it.
I knew he did.
And we were back to square fucking one.
Chapter 7
Henley
The last thing I expected to see as I rode back toward the house on my horse was Grace’s hunched form on the hood of my truck. She was painting her damn toenails, which were exposed in her black high heels. If those shoes scratched the paint on my hood, I'd speed things up and kill her right where she was perched.
I wrapped the chain around the post and hooked it in, giving the gate a tug to be sure it was closed. My horse, Bud, perked his ears at the sight of Grace. He was a sucker for women—they usually meant a fuck ton of treats.
He stopped before the grill of my truck, bobbing his head up and down as if he was trying to get her attention.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I barked.
Grace slid the brush back into her nail polish bottle, twisting the lid tight before running her nail along the side of her toe to wipe off the excess. “Waiting for you.”
I looked from her black-painted toes to her green eyes, my gaze snagging on her lips for a split second. Did sheknow the symmetry of her face was perfect? The fullness of her mouth, how straight her teeth were, the way her brows were nearly identical and just the right amount of bushy to give her that pouty look. Not only that, but she was tall—only a couple inches shorter than myself—with long, drool-worthy legs. How a woman like her could murder others for money was beyond me. I almost couldn’t stand the thought of her having blood on her hands…unless it was mine.
The thought made me feral, when in reality, it should piss me off. She’d tried to kill me, and yet I wanted to see her cut my skin. To see her drag her pink tongue across the wound and make it better, all while lapping down my blood.
My hands tightened on the reins. My body followed the same stiff behavior, eliciting a swish of the tail from Bud. I took good care of his hair, so it was long enough to whack me in the leg. He swung his head my way, threatening to bite my boot. It was like he was gritting out,Don’t fuck this up for me. She’s hot.
Or maybe that was me who was thinking that.
“And why the fuck is that?” I asked, knowing I needed to stop thinking about her.
She set the bottle of polish on the hood beside her thigh, straightening her legs out as she finally met my gaze.
The sound of her heels scraping the paint had me clenching my jaw.
The audacity?—
“Angry today, are we?” The slight tilt of her mouth had me biting the inside of my cheek.
“I’ve been out in that field all fucking day. Idon’t have time for your games, Grace. All I want is a cold beer, a hot shower, and my fist around my cock. So spit. It. Out.”
Her cheeks flamed, the rose color a stark contrast to her paleness, but her eyes never wavered from mine. “You told me to tell you if I heard from anyone.”
My irritation nearly made me miss what she said. When her words registered, I straightened in the saddle. “What happened?”
She reached into the pocket of her baggy black jeans, the act causing the waistband to slide down a bit and reveal the top of her black lace panties.
Getting a boner on a saddle? Real fucking painful.
And now I was even more annoyed.
She held a paper out to me.
“If you weren’t damaging private property, you might be able to hand that to me yourself,” I said, a little too much hostility behind my words.
