“I was so wrong about you. And now? Now I’m not confused at all.” My fingers give her toned thigh a firm squeeze, and my mind runs wild with how it would feel to have her entirely wrapped around me.
This fucking body.
“Rhett?” She hasn’t pulled away. In fact, her fingers are tangling in the hair at the base of my skull, pulling my face closer to hers, whether she realizes it or not.
And then her mouth tips up. Her body is saying yes, but her words are saying she’s not so sure.
I let my hand trail up her torso, feeling her tremble slightly beneath my touch. I stroke the column of her throat with my thumb, her pulse beating beneath my fingers. The way it jumps wildly. “Tell me what you want, Summer.” Our lips are so close, facing off in some sort of game without even touching. “If this were your last moment on earth, what would you want me to do?”
A desperate whimpering sound escapes her as her eyes squeeze shut again.
And then she pulls away. Her leg comes down, and the spring breeze pushes her out of my reach. Her expression is stricken, and her posture defeated.
Summer is proud and responsible. Two characteristics about her I absolutely admire.
So, there’s the small part of me that isn’t surprised. I stare at her trembling hand raised between us in a signal to not come any closer.
“Unfortunately, this is not my last moment on earth.” She swallows and glances over her shoulder, like she’s embarrassed. “Mostly, I’ve been pushing papers at Hamilton Elite. I’m . . . I’m trying to keep this relationship professional. I need to keep this relationship professional if I’m going to work in this industry. I can’t manage athletes if I’m hooking up with them. You need to find someone else to play this game with.”
That last sentence is a slap to the face. Partly because she thinks all I want from her is some cheap hookup, partly because the thought of her with other men makes me insane, and partly because I know she’s not wrong.
“I should go,” she whispers sadly. “I need to pack. Our flight is early tomorrow.”
And then she turns. I almost reach for her. But Luke comes running around the corner of the main barn waving a hand at me, shouting something about mutton bustin’ as he races past Summer with an enthusiastic high five.
She turns to look back over her shoulder at me, her eyes pinched and confused. And I almost feel bad for touching her, because she wants it too, and I know she’s going to go beat herself up about it.
That’s what someone responsible would do.
But I’m not that responsible.
Which is why I only almost feel bad about touching Summer Hamilton. There isn’t a single other woman I want to play this game with.
18
Summer
Summer: I almost kissed the cowboy again.
Willa Calling
“Wait. So, you didn’t kiss him?” Willa sounds horrified by the prospect.
“No, Wils.” I huff out a breath, still jumbled this morning from my run in with Rhett yesterday. Still slightly embarrassed by my outburst when I slid off his horse and sulked the rest of the way back to the ranch. And still a little obsessed with the way it felt to have him pressed up against me while we doubled up on the way back.
Too good is what it felt like.
Oh, and I also have bruises on my inner thighs from riding like a bat out of hell to rescue Rhett from what I was envisioning as some sort of hillbilly showdown in my head.
“That’s disappointing. You’re such a bore sometimes. A young, hot bore who should be living it up.” She sighs and takes a bite of something crunchy on the other end of the line.
“Thank you for the vote of confidence, bestie. How’s your dating life then if I’m so boring?”
“Meh. Every time I think I’ve met someone, they either end up boring me to death or just wanting to tell me what to do.”
I laugh. “Godspeed to the man who tries to tell Willa Grant what to do.”
“Amen,” is my friend’s solemn reply.
“It’s okay to put yourself first. Don’t settle, Wils.”
She’s quiet for a few moments. All I can hear is her chewing. Probably cookies. She loves baking. “You should take your own advice.”
I grunt at that. I guess if I’m going to hit her with truth bombs, she can do the same to me. “I’ll try if you do.”
“Okay.” I can hear the smile in her voice now. “Keep me posted on how riding the cowboy goes.”
I shake my head and say, “Love you, psycho,” before hanging up on her.