Page 62 of The Bodyguard's Fall

I blinked. “Kissed. The trees are fall-kissed.”

He whistled lightly, ignoring me completely. “You did say kiss,” he said again.

“The paper said kiss.”

“Alright, if you really want to get the town talking, I guess we can⁠—”

“Stop!” I kicked him, biting my lip to stop the smile. I already had burning cheeks. I didn’t need to be smiling at him. I wasn’t even sure what was happening.

“It’s just an interesting word when you ask your fake boyfriend to take you out on a date.”

“I didn’t ask you out.”

“Didn’t you? Because I would never agree to something like this on my own.”

And then he grinned, looking more confident and happy to be in control. But this time, a heat simmered in my chest at his teasing.

“For all intents and purposes,” he began, “when we step out of this farm, we are dating—at least we’re letting everyone think we are. I just hope you’ll be able to keep your hands to yourself with such a romantic setting and words like that flying around your head.”

An embarrassed laugh finally broke free. It had been a long time since a man had so outwardly flirted with me, and I wasn’t sure what to do about the rush of tingles up my spine and the heat now pooling in my belly.

Horseshoe Holler was tucked away on the side of a hill blanketed in maple trees just outside of Autumn Ridge. Along the way, we passed a field of horses, no doubt belonging to the stables. There was something about a field full of horses grazing in the afternoon sun, surrounded by trees showing off bright corals and reds, that really did something to a person’s anxieties.

Tate took a bend in the road and drove into a gravel parking lot, where a beautiful creamy-white stable stood in front of us. Outbuildings, barns, and a white farmhouse with a wraparound porch finished the cozy scene. Seeing all of this, I wished I was more of a horsewoman.

He parked next to a diesel truck with a large horse trailer attached.

“How’s your stomach doing after you left me wide open in our fight?” I asked Tate as he turned off the engine.

Tate ignored me, pushing open his door and muttering something about it being the last time he’ll let me win anything.

And he did let me win, by the way.

I gave it my all. His self-defense lessons were helping me feel more confident, although I wouldn’t admit that to him just yet. The problem was…my “all” gets very distracted by a warm chest. And hands that always seem to find their way to my hips. And a smart mouth that gets after me for never remembering how I’m supposed to be standing.

Newsflash: I do remember. It’s not rocket science.

I’m chalking it all up to having had a barbed-wire fence around my body for the past six months, and apparently, bossy hands and semi-annoyed looks are my kryptonite.

I’m not saying I’m proud of learning this about myself. I am only saying that Tate has warm, strong, manly hands, and there will occasionally be consequences to that fact.

He was halfway around the truck when I yanked open my door and slid out onto the ground.

“Do you know where we’re supposed to go?” I asked, my hand blocking the sun as I tried to determine if we were meeting at the stables or the⁠—

Suddenly, Tate’s manly hands were back, only this time, instead of my hips, they landed on my waist. Before I could utter a word of protest, he was lifting me back inside the truck.

“What are you—” I began, only to stop when those hands found my legs, scooting them underneath the dash.

He delighted me with my favorite of his exasperated looks before he slammed the door shut, only to yank it open once more.

He leaned forward, his left arm resting on the top of the truck and his face inches from mine, and waited until he had my full attention—which happened approximately ten seconds ago.

“You don’t get out of this truck until I give the okay. Got it?”

He waited while I blinked, completely startled, all while my heart rate took off at a wild gallop. I tried to stop it. Tried to keep that tiny romantic part of my brain from exploding. I tried to stop my smile from escaping. And for the love of all that was holy, I tried to clamp down the giddiness bubbling up inside of me.

He was in cop mode right now. It was all for my safety. None of this meant anything like how my brain was wanting to take it.