NINETEEN
BLAIR
God help me, Tatum Whittaker found out I’m scared of horses.
Most of the Whittakers had been pretty inviting.
Maddox and Bailey were still sort of distant, but Colt had assured me that wasn’t a me issue. According to him, they hated pretty much everyone.
Kendall had been beyond sweet when I finally met her.
She worked and went to school, on top of babysitting, so it had taken a few days before we crossed paths in the hallway.
She’d immediately hung up with whoever she was on the phone with, grabbing my hands and squealing with me about being sisters now.
Everyone in this family seemed to move so fast .
But Tate… well, I seemed to be Tate’s personal pet project. Especially when I flinched away from the horses when Colt took me on a tour of the property on my second day here.
“Are you scared of them?” she’d asked, eyes wide.
“I’ve just never been around them before. Not this close. They’re really… big.”
Colt snorts and I elbow him, knowing his mind’s gone filthy. Tate doesn’t pick up on it, thank god. Unfortunately, that’s only because she’s scheming .
“You should join me while I desensitize them in the arena next week! You’ll get to see how silly they are.”
“Tate, I don’t think?—”
But she waves her hand through the air. “She’ll be fine. She can stay behind the fence.”
“It’s hot, Tate. Blair doesn’t need to get overheated.”
Tate looks offended. “Well, duh. I’ll set up one of the big fans.”
Colt sighs and looks over toward me. I shrug nervously. Spending my day with horses isn’t really on the top of my priority list, but horses seem to be a part of living here and it’s not like I have to ride them or anything…
“Please, Colt? We can do it in the indoor arena instead if you’re really worried about the heat.”
Colt sighs. “She and I will talk about it tonight and let you know.”
I balked at the idea of Colt deciding what I would or wouldn’t be doing, but when Tate finally left, he immediately explained.
“Sorry, I wanted to give you an out. If you don’t want to watch, we can just tell her I’m a controlling asshole who said no.”
And, well, that was unfairly hot for some reason I hadn’t made peace with yet.
Regardless, a week later and here I am in the indoor arena—because it had in fact been too hot outside for Colt’s liking—watching as Tate dances around a group of three horses, opening and closing an umbrella.
They spook every single time, but they’re tied to the wall to prevent them from running or hurting themselves.
“See? Ridiculous creatures, aren’t they? Really, they’re just dogs. Large dogs.”
She says this in the most babying tone as she pets the white spot on the closest horse’s nose, pressing a kiss to it afterward. I get what Colt meant when he said horses are Tate’s calling. It’s hard to dislike them when I watch how much Tate loves them.
Still, I think I much prefer cats, like the one winding around my ankles that won’t let me pick him up or pet him. Sheriff, Tate had called him.
“Your tarps, my liege,” Jameson calls as he enters the arena, tossing the folded-up blue squares onto the ground. The horses jolt. Tate rolls her eyes fondly. “Also, Bailey told me to tell you that Travis’ girlfriend is trying to get in touch with you. Paisley?”
“Presley,” Tate corrects as Jamie walks over to where I’m sitting and plops down in the dirt beside my chair. “What’s she need?”
He ignores her, taking his cowboy hat off and wiping the sweat off his brow with his sleeve.
“Colt told me to ask if you needed to go inside,” he says to me instead.
My lips quirk. He’s such a worrywart.
“What are you, the errand boy?” I ask, not sure if it’s okay to make jokes yet. I try to act way more familiar than I am. Exposure therapy, perhaps, even as my stomach curdles at the idea of him looking at me sideways like I’ve insulted him.
He doesn’t though, instead snorting out a laugh. “It’s so goddamn hot out there, I practically volunteered.”
“What’s Presley need?” Tate asks again, finally walking up. She passes each of us a cold water bottle from a cooler she’s got stashed nearby.
“I don’t know. You should try keeping your walkie-talkie on. Or at the very least, answering your phone.”
“The noise from the walkie-talkie scares the horses,” she mumbles with furrowed brows as she pulls her phone out of her back pocket.
“You’re literally scaring the horses on purpose right now.”
She ignores him, scrolling through her phone. “Shit.”
“Mhmm. Lots of texts and missed calls? ”
“Fuck you,” Tate says, rolling her eyes. It surprises me. Tate’s a grown adult, sure, but she’s the youngest of the family so I hadn’t expected her to curse at her brother so easily.
“Maddie hears you talking like that and he’ll wash your mouth out with soap,” Jamie jokes.
I look between them like I’m watching a game of incredibly entertaining ping-pong.
I’ve been around so many families in my life, all with different dynamics, but the Whittakers are perplexing to say the least.
“I could replace my entire vocabulary with curse words and Maddie wouldn’t notice.”
“Yeah, he’s had his head up his ass lately,” Jameson agrees, but my eyes are stuck on Tate. Even as she types away on her phone, her tone is terse and her shoulders are tense. I get the feeling she meant something entirely different than how Jameson perceived it.
But that’s not my business.
In fact, any part of me that wanted to psychoanalyze it gets up and walks away when Colt enters the arena.
“Fuck, it’s hot out there.”
He’s sweating just as much as Jameson is.
And he’s just as filthy.
The only difference is that he lifts the bottom of his shirt to wipe off his face instead of using his shirt sleeve.
And yet, as my eyes trail down over his glistening abs and the tattoos along his sides, I think that might be all the difference that matters.
Tate and Jameson continue to bicker, but it’s background noise at this point.
A bead of sweat glides down Colt’s stomach, treating his muscles like a maze before it disappears into the waistband of his Calvin Kleins.
I’ve never in my life been jealous of sweat before, but I suppose there’s a first for everything.
By the time I realize I’m gawking, it’s too late. My eyes snap up to Colt’s but he just winks, finally dropping his shirt. How long had he been standing there on display? Done with wiping his face yet letting me drink my fill? My face gets hot at the thought.
“I think I’m gonna head inside for a nap after all,” I tell the group at large, accidentally interrupting Tate. She pouts a bit, but doesn’t argue. Who would argue with a pregnant woman claiming a need for rest? No one sane. And Tate just might be the sanest one in this family.
“I’ll walk you back,” Colt offers with a cocky grin.
“No, that’s okay. It’s not far. Thank you for letting me hang out with you today, Tate. Maybe we can do it again tomorrow, depending on what you’re doing?”
Tate smiles like I’ve offered her a million dollars. “Definitely.”
I nod back, slipping past Colt.
But not before he whispers, “Think of me.”
I’d like to say I don’t think of him.
I’d like to say I jump in the shower and I wash myself without even remembering what had me all hot and bothered in the first place.
But the mess in my panties doesn’t lie, and there’s no one here to see how quickly I reach for the rose toy stashed away in my underwear drawer on my way to the bathroom.
The fall of the water from the shower should mask the sound of the vibrations, but just in case, I set my phone on the counter and set it to shuffle my playlist.
If Colt’s sweaty abs and crooked grin are on my mind when the toy suctions to my clit, well then that’s no one’s business but my own.
I’ve always been a bit too loud, but I try my best to muffle my sounds with my hand, praying that the walls are thick enough no one can make out Colt’s name falling from my lips when I come.
I finish washing up with jellied legs and dry off, grabbing my phone, and pausing the now-overstimulating music as I make my way to the bed. A nap sounds great after all .
What’s waiting on my phone has the possibility of rest melting away though.
Colt:
You should let me take care of you next time.