Page 63 of Then You Happened
“Girl, will you listen to yourself?” Fiona says through a laugh as she slaps a hand on her knee, her own wine sloshing over the side of her glass. “You do not need to apologize for a little mid-afternoon drink with a friend. Does she now, Jack?”
“Not in the least,” he murmurs, looking back to Fiona, and I finally feel like I can bre
athe when he does. “Everyone needs a little release sometimes.”
“That they do,” Fi agrees.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He sets the bag he had been holding down and then raises his arms to lift his hat before resettling it on his head. Neither Fiona nor I miss the flex of his biceps.
“Interrupt away,” Fi says, garnering another smile from Jack.
“You’re a troublemaker, aren’t you, Mrs. Camden?”
“That’s Ms., and yes, I just might be.”
“Everyone needs a friend who is,” he says before turning to me as if remembering I’m still here listening. I’m still busy trying to get over his her wild is one of her best parts comment. “I need to schedule some time with you to go over a few things.”
“Things?”
“Breeding schedules,” he says. “The mares are starting to show signs that they’re getting close to heat, so I want your approval of which studs to line with which mares to ensure success.”
“And how exactly do they show it?” Fiona asks.
His chuckle is like sandpaper over my skin but in all the good ways. The twist of his lips and shake of his head says he isn’t walking into Fiona’s trap. “We’ll just say that when a female is in heat, any cowboy worth his salt knows it.”
“Mmm. And how do you go about picking the right stallion?”
“Animal attraction is something you can’t deny.” He turns to face me again, eyes holding amusement but darkening with something else. “Tomorrow perhaps?”
“Yes. Sure. I’m free in the afternoon.”
“You can go over it now if you want,” Fiona interjects. “I was just getting ready to head out.”
His smile is slow and lazy as it spreads over his lips. “No need to. I have to go take a shower.”
“A shower?” Both Fi and I say in unison. I’m sure she’s imagining his slick muscles in the shower while I’m wondering why he’s cutting out of work early.
Ha. Who am I kissing—kidding, I mean kidding. Oh, forget it. I’m imagining the same thing she is.
It must be the wine.
It has to be the wine.
“Yes. Shower.” He grabs the bag he just put down and moves it to the table next to me.
“What’s this?” I ask, my head slightly spinning as everything about Jack assaults me. Dimples. Eyes. Him.
“Steaks.”
“Steaks?” I squeak out.
“Mm-hmm. You said you were going to cook me dinner, Knox. I brought the steaks. Now I’m going to go take a shower because it’s rude to show up to dinner sweaty and stinky when someone has taken the time and trouble to cook for you.”
His smile says he has my number.
Mine says he’s a smug bastard.
“You were serious?” I laugh because, clearly, he was. My pulse is suddenly racing at the idea of us sharing a meal together.
