Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 34190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Shit. I’m so far gone it isn’t even funny.
Our dessert comes, but I ignore my apple pie and concentrate on my girl as she licks at the chocolate on her fork and rolls her eyes like she’s embarrassed. After a few bites, she lays her fork on the side of her plate and sits back. “What are your plans for Thunderbolt?”
Oh, sweetheart. If you think all I want is your horse, you haven’t been paying attention.
My hand finds her knee under the table and squeezes, slow and possessive. “I’m planning to leave him here.”
She chokes on her wine. “What?”
“Since I’ll be here, too, for a while.” I drag my thumb along her thigh, loving the way her breath hitches. “I have important business in town.” Her. The tips of my fingers drag along the inside of her soft thigh, so close to the hem of her dress I can feel her shiver. “You’re the only business I give a shit about, sweetheart.”
She blinks, cheeks flushed, her lips parting like she wants to argue. Instead, her tongue darts out and swipes the tiniest drop of chocolate from the corner of her mouth. Holy fucking hell. My cock rages against my zipper, and I grip her knee a little tighter, barely stopping myself from hauling her onto my lap in front of the whole goddamn restaurant.
“I don’t understand any of this.” Her expression is a mix of hope, confusion, and disbelief. I’ll work on each of those.
I lean in, mouth barely an inch from her ear, and drop my Texas drawl a little lower just for her. “I don’t either, Montana. But we’ll fucking figure it out together.”
She stares up at me, her cheeks pink, lips slick from the last bite of cake. I want to bend her over this goddamn table and make her scream my name. But what I want more is to see her happy, and fuck if I didn’t figure that out the second I watched her with Thunderbolt.
No way in hell I’m taking that horse away from her. I knew it the minute she hugged the stallion’s neck and nearly cried saying goodbye. I’d rather rip out my own heart than make her miserable. She belongs with her horse, and I belong right here, with my soulmate.
I already called Hudson and told him the deal was changing. He bitched for a full minute, then laughed and asked if I’d been drinking the Silver Spoon Falls water.
He hit that nail right on the head. On my way out of town, I stopped by the 5th Avenue Diner for breakfast. When Janine, the waitress, asked if I wanted bottle water, I looked her dead in the eyes and told her, "Hell no. Pour me a tall glass of that regular old Silver Spoon Falls tap water."
I never gave the old town rumor any thought, but damn if it doesn’t explain this batshit obsession with the gorgeous brunette across the table. The Carringtons have been in Silver Spoon Falls for generations, and we always treated that love-at-first-sip crap like a joke for tourists and bored housewives. But now? Hell, I’m starting to wonder if the stuff really did infect my bloodstream.
Because one look at Reine and I was fucking finished. And I couldn’t be happier. I don’t care if it was the water, the universe, or plain old good luck that brought her into my life. I’ll thank whatever it was every day for the rest of my life for my good fortune.
CHAPTER SEVEN
REINE
By the time I pull my truck out of The Feedlot parking lot, my hands are shaking so bad I have to grip the wheel in both fists just to keep it straight. My brain is spinning in circles. Every nerve ending buzzes like I just drank my weight in energy drinks. I glance in the rearview mirror, seeing Cole following right behind me.
By the time I turn onto the gravel road leading to the ranch house, my brain has replayed every moment of the day several times. I park my truck and watch as Cole parks beside me. For a long second, neither of us moves. I can see his silhouette in the driver’s seat, broad shoulders and that unfairly perfect profile lit by the dashboard glow. I’m suddenly seventeen again, parked outside the old rodeo arena with a boy who says he loves me, hoping he’ll try something stupid. Except this isn’t high school, and the guy in the truck next to me is the kind of man who always goes for exactly what he wants.
He gets out first, boots crunching on gravel. There’s no hesitation. He just moves. My hands fumble with the keys, and I barely manage to grip the door handle before he’s at my door, opening it like a gentleman, and then crowding the space, his arm braced on the roof, his body blocking the night wind. He’s so close I can smell his woodsy scent, and it’s better than any drug.