Chapter 16
Kacey
I’m the last one at Dad’s. I wanted to stay and help him clean up. We’re hand washing and drying the last of the dishes when he says, “You and that bull rider are spending a lot of time together.”
Oh great, here we go.
I shrug. “I mean, he’s our temp farrier and training Buck, so I don’t really have a choice.”
He gives me a look that says, "I’m your father—don’t bullshit me." I think because my mom died when I was so young, my dad picked up some of those extra mom senses. It’s not like I’d ever go into detail about men I’m dating, but we’re close—closer than most fathers and daughters.
I sigh, relenting. “Yeah, we’ve spent some time together. He’s nice. It’s been nice. Okay?”
“Okay, Bug. That’s nice.” He chuckles, using my childhood nickname.
“I know I haven’t really dated since, well, you know. And I don’t plan to date Knox, but it’s nice having someone to spend time with.”
“You know, if you want to date Knox—or anyone—you can, right? Not everyone is like Garrett.”
It took a while before my dad found out what happened between Garrett and me. I finally told Carson he could tell him. I was too broken-hearted and embarrassed to tell him myself, so I wasn’t there, but I know he didn’t react well. What father would?
I take a deep breath before replying. “Yeah, I know, but he’s leaving soon, anyway.”
“Just for a few months. He could always come back if he had something worth coming back for. And you, my girl, are worth coming back for.” He wraps one arm around me, giving me a quick hug.
I walk out the back door and notice Rein isn’t here.
That’s weird. She always waits by the door for me. Maybe she got bored and headed home.
When I round the corner of the house, I see exactly where my traitor of a dog is. Right next to him. \
He’s leaning against his truck, wearing his signature Cinch jeans, black henley shirt, and ball cap.
He looks like a cover model for one of those cowboy romance books Lainey reads all the time.
His muscles are pulling at the shoulders and sleeves of his shirt.
As his light brown curls—like always—peek from under the hat, curling up around the band.
I want to run my fingers through them.
“I thought you left,” I say as I walk up, bending to pet Rein.
“It’s a nice night. I figured I’d walk you home, like a gentleman.” His tone is cautious, and he’s watching me, trying to gauge how I feel.
“Oh. Okay. That would be nice.” The butterflies in my stomach have me stumbling over my words and regretting that last glass of whiskey.
Who does this, though? What man stands outside, waiting for a girl, so he can walk her home when it’s her family ranch and she lives a quarter mile away? This man, apparently.
He says nothing, just whistles at Rein, and we head toward my house, gravel crunching under our boots. Moonlight is the only source of light on the lane.
The walk is quiet. We don’t talk, but we don’t need to.
The sky stretches wide above us, but the open air does nothing to steady my quick, nervous breaths.
I can feel his body heat next to me in the cool night air.
I feel his eyes flick over to me every few seconds.
When the wind shifts, I smell bergamot with a touch of leather and sandalwood. I suppress a moan.
Damn, he smells good. Has he always smelled this good?
I feel myself leaning toward him before I catch myself and jerk away.
Knox tenses and puts his hands in his pockets but says nothing.
I refocus on the gravel lane winding ahead of us.
Rein, oblivious to the tension, runs ahead of us, then circles back, then runs ahead again.
He walks me all the way to my door before I finally find some words. Not the words I was expecting, but words, nonetheless.
“So, what would a gentleman do now?” I turn to face him, coming a step closer than I should. I blame the two glasses of whiskey and whatever heaven-made cologne he’s wearing.
He gazes down at me, always looking into my eyes like he’s searching for something. “You want me to tell you what a gentleman would do? Or what I would do?” His voice has a raspy edge to it.
I attempt to swallow my nerves, and his gaze drops to my throat. His eyes flare as he tracks the movement.
“Are you saying you aren’t a gentleman?”
He smirks, drawing my eyes to his mouth. “Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea what I am.”
“What would you do?”
Yep, it’s definitely the whiskey making me this brave.
He reaches out, his fingers lightly grazing my wrist, setting my skin on fire.
“Well, first, you would invite me inside.” He starts to run the pads of his fingers up my arm, painfully slow.
“Then, I’d ask you how your day was. You’d tell me all about the things you did and what happened.
” His hand has reached my shoulder now, and I have goosebumps that have nothing to do with the chill in the night air.
“Then what?” I ask, my voice sounding breathier than expected.
His fingers inch toward my neck. “Then I would pull you into my arms, tell you how beautiful you are, and kiss you. You’d moan into my mouth and push your hips into my hardening cock.”
Oh my gosh.
I thought men only said things like that in books. It’s like a switch has flipped in this man and this isn’t a game I’m going to win. I’m not sure I want to win if losing means his hands stay on me. I’ll gladly lose all day.
His other hand comes to rest on my hip, and I hear my breathing speed up. I start to lean into him. I’m clenching my thighs together and feel the moisture building between my legs.
“Then what?” I’m like a parrot repeating the same question over again, but I can’t help myself. For as much as I’ve tried to keep my distance from this man, I’m failing miserably tonight, and I’m not sure that I care.
He cups the back of my head. “Then, I’d tell you good night.” He drops his hands as a smirk crosses his face. “Goodnight, Kace.”
Uh, excuse me? My brain must be short-circuiting. Wait, what just happened?
He turns and walks down the steps as I huff out an angry breath. He just turned me on, then walked away.
Fine. Fuck. Him.
I don’t respond as I go inside and slam the door.
Joke’s on him, because I don’t need him.
I march to my bedroom, rip open my nightstand drawer, and pull out my favorite vibrator.
Heading back into the living room, I find my favorite smut book in one of the stacks of books. I rip my jeans off and lay down on the couch. I don’t need him. I haven’t needed a man in a long time. I’m perfectly capable of fulfilling my own needs.
I open the book and flip to my favorite part; I know the chapter by heart. Turning on my vibrator, I start reading and working it up and down my clit. I slide it inside and moan when I hit just the right spot.
But when I close my eyes, it’s not the book character I see, it’s Knox. I imagine him shirtless, his arm muscles tightening as he grips my hips and slams into me. He whispers how perfect my pussy is, and heat consumes me. He picks up his pace as I beg for more. I reach up and pull his face down to—
Knock, knock.
I yelp—loudly—dropping my book and jerking the vibrator out. It slips and falls on the floor. I flip over onto my side to reach down and grab it, but I didn’t realize how close I was to the edge of the couch. I fall onto the floor with a thud and a very unladylike grunt.
Knock, knock.
“Are you okay?” I hear Knox ask from outside.
I curse and sit up to grab the vibrator. Only it’s not there, I can hear it, but I can’t see it.
Oh shit, oh shit.
It’s under the damn couch! I’m scrambling onto my stomach, trying to reach under and grab it.
Bvvvvt. Bvvvvt. Bvvvvt.
It’s like this is the world’s loudest vibrator.
Surely, he can’t hear it through the door, right?
“Kace? What’s that noise? Are you okay?”
Okay, apparently he can hear something through the door. “Uh, yeah. One sec!”
What is he doing back here, anyway? Did he change his mind? Because I can leave this vibrator under the couch if he wants to—I got it!
I pull it out and shut it off. Throwing my jeans back on as I jump across the living room toward the door, cursing my open floor plan house.
“Yeah. Hey, hi,” I say breathlessly as I barely crack the door open, holding the vibrator behind my back. I know my face is beet red, I can feel it.
“Um, you okay?” he asks, trying to peek behind me into the house.
All I can do is nod.
“Okay, well, I forgot to ask if you wanted to trim more broodmares this week. I should have some extra time.”
Well, that totally could’ve been a text. “Yep, that would be great. Anything else?” I brush some hair out of my face with the non-vibrator hand.
This is what my life has come to. Perfect.
He glances down at the arm tucked around my back and smirks at me.
The man smirks. I have a sinking feeling in my gut that he knew exactly what I was just doing.
“Nope, that’s it. Have a good night,” he says, but he doesn’t turn to leave. He just stands there, smirking at me.
How has this gone from one of the best days—shirtless, sweaty Knox—to the worst day—vibrator under the couch—in a matter of a few hours? I’ll never be able to show my face around him again.
“Okay, night.” And with that, I shut the door and leave him standing on my porch.
I head back to the couch, only to find my mood has drastically changed.
So much for fulfilling my own needs.