6. Therapeutic Purposes
Therapeutic Purposes
Kellan
I stepped back from my masterpiece, surveying the charcuterie board with the pride of a five-year-old presenting his mom with his handprint turkey.
The tiny salami roses had taken three YouTube tutorials and more patience than I typically applied to anything that wasn’t horse-related, but damn if they didn’t look professional.
I’d arranged the cheeses in cascading order from mild to sharp, nestled fresh strawberries and grapes between artisan crackers, and added little pools of honey and fig jam in ceramic bowls I’d dug out from the back of a cabinet.
Was it excessive for someone I’d known less than forty-eight hours? Probably.
Did I care? Not particularly.
It would have been easy to just throw some crackers and cheese on a plate, but this was much more appealing and romantic. Not that I was going for romantic. She might not even show.
The back door creaked open, and Reid’s boots scuffed against the entryway mat. Walter trotted in ahead of him, immediately heading for the water bowl in the corner.
Reid stopped short, blinking at my creation. “Did Martha Stewart stop by while I was outside?”
I flashed him a grin, adjusting a cracker. “Just thought I’d put something together. No big deal.”
Reid approached the island, circling it slowly like he was inspecting a crime scene. “Uh huh. And the occasion is...?”
I busied myself wiping down the counter, avoiding his eyes. “Quinn might come by later. It was her first ride today, and I thought she might want to use the hot tub for therapeutic purposes.”
“Therapeutic purposes.” Reid nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Is that why you’ve got the wine glasses out too?”
I looked at them and fought the urge to shove them back in the cabinet. “What? Is she supposed to drink out of the bottle? I’m being a good host.”
Reid leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “Look, man, be straight with me. Is this really just about being hospitable?”
“Of course it is.” The defensive edge in my voice surprised even me. “She’s only here for a week, Reid. I’m not planning a wedding.”
“Didn’t say you were.” His voice remained calm, which somehow made it worse. “Just making sure we’re all on the same page.”
The sound of boots on the hardwood interrupted whatever Reid was about to say next as Enzo strode in. “Same page about what?”
I did a double-take at his appearance. He’d swapped his usual work-worn jeans for a fresh dark pair and put on a pressed button-down, sleeves rolled to the elbows.
His boots were still the same style—because heaven forbid Lorenzo Perez try something new—but these were clearly his non-shit-shoveling pair.
Both Reid and I stared at him like he’d grown a second head.
“What?” Enzo grunted, grabbing his keys from the hook.
“Nothing.” I recovered first, gesturing vaguely at his outfit. “Just don’t usually see you all cleaned up. At least not lately.”
“Going dancing.” Enzo’s eyes flicked to the elaborate spread on the counter, one eyebrow arching. “What’s all this?”
“Nothing.” I moved to casually block his view, which was ridiculous. “Just making sure our guest feels welcome.”
“Welcome.” Enzo repeated the word like he was testing it for bullshit. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
Heat crawled up my neck. “It’s called customer service, Enzo. You should try it sometime instead of glowering at people until they give you money.”
“Right.” His mouth twisted into something not quite a smile. “Well, don’t strain yourself rolling out the welcome wagon. I’d hate for you to pull something.”
“You’re going line dancing?” Reid crossed the kitchen to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. “That’s a surprise. What’s the occasion?”
“It’s been a while, and I need to blow off some steam.” There was a flicker of something in his voice, but before I could place it, he was gone, the screen door slapping shut behind him.
The silence stretched for a beat too long before Reid cleared his throat. “Kellan, I know it’s not really my business, but?—”
“You’re right, it’s not.” I cut him off, immediately regretting my sharpness. “It’s nothing, okay? She seemed interested, I’m interested, we’re both adults.”
“She’s a guest.”
“And?”
Reid ran a hand through his hair. “All I’m saying is, be careful.”
The truth was, despite tapping into every ounce of self-preservation I possessed, I kept thinking about her.
It wasn’t just passing thoughts but full-blown mental dioramas featuring her smile, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she concentrated, and how her face softened when she talked about her students.
I’d tried distracting myself, but nothing worked.
Quinn had somehow bypassed all my carefully constructed defenses I’d spent years reinforcing after watching my parents’ toxic cycle of make-up and break-up and settled right into the corners of my mind where I couldn’t reach to evict her.
Usually I didn’t go through the effort of making something as elaborate as a charcuterie board, but with Quinn, I wanted to. Even if it led nowhere, she was worth the effort.
Reid must have read something in my expression because he headed toward the hallway, pausing at the doorway. “For what it’s worth, that’s the fanciest damn charcuterie board I’ve ever seen. If she doesn’t appreciate it, she doesn’t deserve it.”
I didn’t bother asking him just how many boards he’d seen. His experience with fancy food arrangements began and ended with the premade veggie trays at the grocery store.
I glanced at the clock. Nearly eight.
It was possible Quinn wouldn’t show up at all.
It was possible I’d misread the signals, or she’d decided it wasn’t worth the potential awkwardness.
I would just eat the entire board myself while watching reruns of Yellowstone , wondering why I’d gone to all this trouble for someone who’d be gone in days.
Then again, maybe she would show up, and we’d drink wine as the sun set and the stars came out.
When had I become such a… romantic?
I carried the wine and charcuterie board out to the back deck. The sun was starting to set, painting the horizon in dark blue and gold. I’d set up the hot tub earlier, but now I cranked the jets on.
I discarded my shirt and sank into the water, letting the heat and movement relax my muscles.
Every few seconds, my eyes drifted to the path that Quinn would take if she decided to come. It would be less complicated if she didn’t show. I rarely read women wrong, but what if I’d misinterpreted her interest earlier? Was I about to embarrass myself and the ranch?
I’d just reached for the wine bottle when Quinn appeared on the path, wearing shorts and a loose tank top, a towel slung casually over one shoulder. Her steps were unhurried but had a hint of hesitation, like she was second-guessing with each footfall.
She paused at the edge of the deck, eyes flicking to mine, then to the wine, then back to me. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
With a sudden confidence that seemed to come from nowhere, she tugged her tank top over her head in one fluid motion. She dropped it onto a deck chair, fingers moving to the button of her shorts. They joined her tank top.
Standing before me in nothing but black lace underwear and a bra, she met my gaze with a smirk that said she knew exactly what this was doing to me.
“Hope you’re not shy. I didn’t bring my bathing suit and didn’t have time to go buy one.” She walked up the hot tub steps and sat gingerly on the side before swinging her legs over.
My mouth had gone completely dry. “I’m not shy.”
She sank into the water with a contented sigh that I felt in my bones, submerging herself to her shoulders. I managed to collect myself enough to pour her a glass of wine, which she accepted with a grateful nod.
“This is exactly what I needed.” She tilted her head back against the edge. “I can’t believe I rode a horse today. I knew there would be some soreness, but not this much.”
For a while, we just soaked, sipping wine and picking from the charcuterie board balanced on the edge of the tub.
The conversation came easier than it should have with someone I barely knew.
It flowed from her teaching experiences to my most ridiculous guest stories, from her ex’s betrayal to my parents’ dysfunctional marriage.
The wine loosened our tongues, but there was something else at work too, something in the way the water bubbled around her shoulders and glinted off the droplets on her collarbones.
Our fingers brushed when I passed her a strawberry, and neither of us pulled away as quickly as we should have.
She took a bite of the berry, my eyes glued to the way her lips closed around it. “Do you always go to this much trouble for your guests?”
There it was; the question that would define whatever this was becoming… or wasn’t becoming.
I met her eyes. “No.”
A beat of silence stretched between us, filled only by the bubbling of the jets and the distant chirp of crickets. Her eyes searched my face, as if looking for the punchline, the hint that I was just the charming guy who flirted with everyone who crossed the ranch’s threshold.
I leaned in slowly, giving her every opportunity to pull away.
She didn’t.
Our mouths met in a kiss that started tentatively, a question hanging between us, but whatever caution existed melted away.
Her lips parted against mine with a soft, needy sound that vibrated through me, and everything accelerated.
Her hand curled around the back of my neck, fingertips digging into my skin, while my fingers slid into her damp hair, cradling her head as if it were something precious.
The taste of wine and strawberries lingered on her tongue as it brushed against mine, sending electric currents racing down my spine.
The jets hummed around us, but all I could hear was the catch in Quinn’s breath, the quiet moan that escaped her when I pulled her closer, the water sloshing between our bodies as they gravitated toward each other with an urgency that had been building since she first stepped on the ranch.
When we finally pulled apart, both slightly breathless, I saw my own surprise mirrored in her eyes. Like neither of us had expected this to feel quite so... inevitable.
“Huh,” she whispered, her fingers still light against my skin.
“Eloquent,” I teased, but my voice wasn’t quite steady.
She smiled and bit her lip. “I wasn’t planning on this, you know.”
“Me neither.” My thumb traced her bottom lip. “But I’m not complaining.”
Her eyes darkened. “Good.”
And then she was kissing me again, her body shifting closer in the water, and I forgot about everything else: the ranch, Enzo and Reid, the fact that she’d be leaving in a week.
Nothing mattered in that moment except the feel of her against me and the strange, sudden certainty that I might be in serious trouble here.