Page 20 of Enticed
I didn’t make the conscious decision to go to her. My feet simply carried me that way. I watched as she warmed up Juniper, readying her to make a run around the barrels. Finally, she noticed me and turned her horse in my direction. She stayed perched on her back, not dismounting and sending a clear message she didn’t have time for a social call.
“So, what’s the verdict? Are you going to be mychaperonefor the foreseeable future?” she asked. The usual hint of teasing in her tone was there, but so was something else. A vulnerability she’d never revealed to me before. She was worried I’d said no.
“I wouldn’t necessarily call it being a chaperone, but yes, I will be accompanying you to your races for the time being.” Relief washed over her features, and she visibly relaxed.
“Good,” she replied, straightening her shoulders. “I was worried Dad would end up making Rowan take me, and between you and me, my big brother is far too overbearing. He wouldn’t be any fun at all on a road trip.”
“What makes you think I’d be any different? I might be a complete stick in the mud. Hell, I might even give you a curfew,” I challenged. A slow grin spread over her plump lips.
“What exactly are you going to do if I break curfew? Are you going to punish me?” The thought of putting Jasmine over my knee and reddening that perfectly round ass rose unbidden in my mind.
“Jasmine.” Her name came out somewhere between a growl and groan.
“I’m just asking,” she said innocently. “I need to know if the consequences are worth breaking the rules, and well, depending on the punishment, I might be getting into a lot of trouble,” she added with a wink.
Fuck me. This girl was going to be my downfall.
“Stop,” I said, holding my hands up in a pleading motion. “We can’t keep on like this. We need to have some boundaries if we’re going to be on the road together this often.” Her face turned serious, and she nodded. I continued, hopeful I was getting through to her. “Things need to remain professional,” I added to emphasize my stance. I would not be crossing any lines with her while she was in my care. Her father entrusted me with her safety, and I planned to honor that trust.
“I understand,” she began, her expression serious as she nodded her agreement. For a moment I thought I’d gotten through to her, but then she smirked at me and her eyes danced with mischief. “I’ll be on my best behavior,” she promised with faux sincerity, then did a little turn on her horse. Before I could call her on the obvious lie, she took off, leaving me in a cloud of dust.
“I think that’s everything,”Elwood said, dropping the keys into my hand. A tight knot of anxiety coiled in my stomach. This man, my best friend, was trusting me with his twenty-one-year-old daughter. I had a duty to keep her safe and keep my hands off her. The latter would be much more difficult than the former.
Oddly enough, Jasmine had been on her best behavior for the past week and a half, just like she’d promised. Unfortunately, I was certain it was just a ploy to get me to let my guard down and lull me into a false sense of security. Once we were on the road, I had no doubt the tides would turn, and she’d be the same little menace who’d tormented me the last several weeks.
“What do you want to listen to?” Jasmine asked, reaching for the radio dial once we were on the road.
“You pick,” I replied. It didn’t matter what music was playing. I just needed to get the swirling thoughts in my head under control. With Jasmine so close, her sweet scent enveloping me, I’d have a hard time focusing on driving for the next five hours.
She skimmed through the radio stations for several minutes but apparently found nothing satisfactory, so she connected her phone to Bluetooth and pulled up her music streaming app. What came through the speakers sounded like something from the eighties, the opening chords heavy on the synthesizer, but I didn't recognize it. Whatever it was it was catchy, and I found myself drumming my fingers on the steering wheel to the beat.
We didn’t talk for a long time as her playlist ran through its eclectic collection of songs. It was an amalgamation of genres that spanned decades. She played everything from Led Zeppelin to Biggie Smalls to Reba with a few current pop and country hits mixed in.
I continued to absently drum my fingers, getting more and more into it when she switched over to what she dubbed her “Queen Stevie” playlist. When “Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac came on, she sang softly, but I could tell she wanted to cut loose as she tapped her foot to the rhythm and swayed in her seat. I hummed along with the chorus, enjoying the music just as much as her. Unable to resist any longer, I quietly joined her on backup vocals during “Rhiannon,” but she noticed, shooting me a pleased smile.
I began to drum more exuberantly with “Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around,” and to her surprise—and utter delight—I sang Tom Petty’s parts openly and enthusiastically. I’d always been a Tom Petty fan, and this was one of my favorite songs of his. Halfway through the song, I glanced over to find Jasmine playing air guitar and shaking her head back and forth, letting her hair fly all around her like a quintessential eighties rock star.A grin tugged at the corners of my lips at how carefree she was in that moment.
By the time “Go Your Own Way” came on, we were absolutely jamming out, singing the lyrics at the tops of our lungs, and I realized this was the most fun I’d had in a long time. It was the most at ease I’d been in years. I felt like I could relax and not have to worry about anyone’s judgment. I didn’t have to put on a front or pretend to be more polished and refined than I was. I could be myself with Jasmine.
“Are you hungry?” I asked when her playlist finished. We’d only been on the road for a couple hours, but it was almost dinner time.
“I could eat,” she replied.
“What sounds good?”
“Anything but Italian. Pasta spikes my blood sugar, and I have no self-control when garlic bread is involved.”
I chuckled. Her candor was refreshing. “I, too, have no self-control when it comes to bread, garlic or otherwise.”
“Hmm, I’ll have to mention that to Rowan. He makes a mean loaf of sourdough, and his focaccia is chef’s kiss,” she declared, bringing her pinched fingers to her lips and making a kissing motion.
“No shit?” I asked, surprised, and she nodded. “I can’t really see him being the type to bake.”
“He mainly makes bread and only bakes when he’s stressed so … pretty much all the time.”
“Running the ranch has been rough on him, huh?” He’d been pulled away from the NFL draft when Woody had his accident and was thrust into the role. His dream had never been to run the ranch, but he changed his plans completely when his family needed him most.
“It’s been better since Dad has fully recovered, but that first year and a half was tough. He was in a cast and had to use awheelchair for a while. Then he had to have all that therapy just to be able to walk again. It wasn’t like he could get out there and show Rowan the ropes. It was trial by fire, sink or swim. Thank God for FaceTime. That was the only way Dad could see what was wrong so he could instruct Rowan on how to fix it.”
