Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 128313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
I sucked in freeing gasps of air, my lungs screaming at the frigid temperature. Sweat poured down my face, and I stood straight, tipping my head back to the view of the crescent moon and blanket of stars above me. I loved that about living in the sticks—no light pollution to rob you of a full and vibrant night sky.
My breathing began to slow when I suddenly heard the crunching of gravel underfoot behind me. I turned around, expecting to find Felix or Forrest, who often came out here to run too, but I froze when a familiar set of turquoise eyes were fixed on me, wide and awkward. I immediately swallowed and ran my eyes down the stunning picture of Hallie Oakley, only feet from where I stood.
She was dressed in purple. A long-sleeve lavender base layer and black yoga pants. White trainers were on her feet, and her long hair was pulled back in a high ponytail on the top of her head.
She pushed a ringlet of hair from her flushed face. “Sorry, I was just out for a run.” Her voice was breathless, and her accent thickened into a deep southern twang. “I didn’t think anyone would be around.”
I stared at her. Fuck me, but she was gorgeous. Her body was all curves—small, dipped waist and perfect flared hips. But my gaze dropped down to her hand, clenching and unclenching at her side. The hand that had held mine all night. The one I still could feel against my palm if I concentrated hard enough.
Flustered, no doubt by my heavy silence, Hallie blew out an exasperated breath and turned to leave. As she did, I said, “You were in my barn last night.”
I could be an arsehole. I knew that. In fact, Atticus often called me a surly twat—I knew that too. But even to my own ears my voice was too hard and gruff.
Hallie stiffened. I waited to see what she would say. When she turned back to face me, I crossed my arms over my chest and waited for a reply.
Hallie tucked her loose ringlet behind her ear, but her chin tipped upward, a hint of defiance in her body language. I narrowed my eyes at that show of power. “I’m sorry,” she said, her sweet, accented voice immediately flooding me with warmth even though the night was ice cold and bitter. “I couldn’t sleep, so I went to see Huxley. I didn’t . . .” She trailed off, seeming to try to find some kind of excuse. Sweetness laced her voice again as she said, “I didn’t mean to pry into your section of the barn. I didn’t know it was closed off until I saw your family’s horses and realized who they belonged to.”
I clenched my jaw. Something about her apology seemed forced, like she wasn’t sorry one bit. All I could picture in my head was Hallie finding me completely wrecked last night. Hell, I didn’t even let my own family see me that way, never mind a young rider who we’d just sponsored to ride our horses for the next couple of years. Shit, how old even was she? She could have been anywhere from five to ten years younger than me. I wanted to smack myself in the face at my fuckup.
But apparently, I wasn’t done being a moody bastard, and the flare of challenge in her eyes was a red flag to a bull. “You must have opened a closed door to get in there,” I said, and heard the venom in my voice. “A closed door that means keep out,” I added. I couldn’t help it. I was fucking embarrassed. I was the owner and CEO of Golden Oaks and Knighton Equestrian. I was meant to have my shit together, and on her first week here, Hallie had seen me in a total mess.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, and I studied her face. Was I mistaken, or was there an attitude on the word “sir”? I couldn’t be sure, but it had my blood beginning to heat in my veins.
“Hallie, right?” I asked. I knew exactly who she was. At this point, her face was seared into my brain.
“Yes, sir,” she replied again, only this time with more bite. By the ghost of a smirk on her lips and the crossing of her arms, I knew she wasn’t being contrite. But hell if the word “sir” leaving her mouth—shitty attitude or not—wasn’t a damn aphrodisiac.
I stepped closer to her. Close enough that I almost choked when the scent of rose and vanilla crept up my nose. Her turquoise eyes practically glowed in the warm lamplight as she watched me, not a hint of shyness about her now. I stood about a foot above her, and she raised her chin higher as her eyes ran over every inch of me.