If I were paying attention to anything other than the woman in my arms, I’d hear the hearts of girls breaking and the sound of my brothers whooping and laughing.
But all I hear is the pounding of my heart and the sweet sighing noise Summer makes when my tongue dances with hers.
We stand here. In plain view. Kissing. In the middle of a makeshift dance floor. No doubt raising some eyebrows. Making a statement.
Doing what we want rather than what we should.
26
Rhett
Summer: Wanna go for a midnight drive?
Rhett: Now who’s the animal?
Summer: Still you. I’m the princess.
Rhett: Fuckin’ right you are. My princess.
Summer: Okay, Neanderthal. Meet outside? Bring a condom.
Summer: Actually, a few condoms.
Rhett: I just bought a whole box. You should have seen the look I got from the cashier.
Summer: Great. We’ll probably be in the town newspaper tomorrow.
Rhett: What a headline that would be.
Summer: Gross. Are we going out or what?
Rhett: Wear one of those prissy skirts, but no panties. Meet at the rust bucket.
“What is this?” Summer places a gift bag in the middle of the table where I’m sitting, enjoying a coffee by myself. I’m feeling a little wrung out after saying goodbye to Beau this morning. He and my dad hit the road together to drive back to Ottawa, and while Summer’s been at the gym, I’ve spent the last hour wondering if how I feel about saying goodbye to my brother is how they all feel every time I leave for an event.
“It’s a bag, Summer.”
I wonder how Summer feels when she watches me get onto the back of an angry bull. I don’t know why, but I’ve never spent a lot of time considering how my job might make everyone else feel. I’ve been too busy not caring about what anyone thinks.
And trying not to terrify myself with the realities of this sport.
She juts out her hip and quirks her head, causing her thick ponytail to flop down her slender neck. The flyaways over her forehead stick to her damp skin after her workout. “No shit, Eaton.”
“Where’d it come from?”
I give her a lopsided smirk. “Me.”
She rolls her lips together, appraising me. “What is it?”
We’ve spent the last few days stealing kisses in the hallway. Or driving my old truck out into the field to sink into each other under the open sky. It’s romantic as fuck. It’s also the best sex I’ve ever had.
While I’ve mostly convinced Summer to buck the rules, she’s a real stickler for “not banging in your dad’s house” and is still convinced she needs to hide what we’re doing for some stupid reason—even though everyone knows what we’re doing.
I’ve never been more motivated to get my own place so I can bend her over whenever I please.
“I don’t know how you fancy types do gifts, but ‘round here you find out what the gift is when you open it.”
Her mouth turns down at the corners. “I don’t have anything to give you.”
I laugh. That’s such a Summer thing to say, always worrying about everyone else.
“I don’t want anything, Princess. It’s a gift, just because. Now sit that fine ass down and open it.”
Her head bobs from side to side as she pulls the chair out. “Well, I do love presents,” she murmurs, eyes lighting as she pulls at the tissue paper I shoved in there kind of haphazardly.
When she reaches into the bag, she stills, eyes darting over to me. In a flash, she’s tugging everything out.
With the chaps free of the bag, she makes this satisfied little sighing sound. “Rhett.”
I sip at my coffee and enjoy watching her, every little drop of excitement that plays across her face. I’ve never gotten off on giving someone a gift quite like I’m enjoying this right now.
“Do you like them?”
“Do I like them? Are you kidding me? I love them. But these are from the first rodeo we went to?”
I shrug.
“Did you order them or something?”
“Nope.”
“You bought them while we were there?”
“Yup.”
Her mouth opens and closes as she holds them up again. They really are beautiful. The craftsmanship is top of the line. So was the price tag. When she surged ahead of me, I purchased them as fast as I could.
But it’s not a completely unselfish gift. I’m dying to see her in them.
“Why?”
“Where else would you find a nice pair of child-sized chaps?”
She rolls her eyes.
“I got them because I saw you staring at them. I saw the look on your face. And then you told me you had to quit riding when you got sick. I thought you’d want to start again at some point. Maybe out here. With me. Then I saw you on my horse—a fucking natural—and I knew I’d made the right call.”
She blinks at me, eyes shinier than they were seconds ago. Her smile is watery as she stares down and runs her dainty fingers over the polished silver studs. “I thought you hated me then.”
I shake my head, a little sheepish over what a growly prick I’d been to her. “The only thing I hated was how badly I wanted you, Princess.”
“Thank you.” She says it so earnestly, it tugs on strings I didn’t know exist. Those big brown soulful eyes—fuck—I’d do anything she wants me to. I’m an absolute goner for this girl, and I never even saw her coming.
“You’re welcome.” My voice is gruff, and I know I need to tell her what this is too. To tell her things I’ve been thinking about. Like that once the season is over, once I’m not a client to her, I’m going to commit my entire off-season to convincing her to give me a shot. A real shot.
A shot to be everything.
But I chicken out, not sure I can handle a rejection, or another person leaving me. Especially not one who’s rapidly become as important to me as Summer is. So instead, I just say, “Put them on, then you can thank me on your knees.”
Summer grumbles as I lead her up the stairs, her hand wrapped in mine so damn perfectly. Her grumbles are half-hearted and done with a small smile. Something about if the press found out I’m a sex addict, they’d have a field day.
When we get to my room, I shut the door and give her a little push into the sprawling space. Wood beam ceilings boast an antler chandelier hanging over a four-poster pine bed. Big sliding doors open onto a spacious second-floor patio, which holds a small wrought iron bistro set looking out over the range, pointed right at the Rocky Mountains.
“Wow,” she breathes, struck by the view. She stops and stares. “Why the hell do you have your coffee downstairs with a view like that?”
I watch her as she admires the scenery—the slender column of her neck, the sharp angle of her jaw, dainty ear adorned with an understated gold stud. Summer is all class. All shiny and proper and well-educated.
It’s fucking hot. It also makes me want to dirty her up a bit.
“The view downstairs has been better lately.”
She shoots me a playful look, pursing her lips and shaking her head.
“Show me the chaps.” I take a step back and point at the custom leather in her hand.
Summer turns to face me. “I’m wearing workout clothes. These need jeans.” She holds them up in my direction.