10. It’s A Date
It’s A Date
Enzo
T he spreadsheet blurred as I squinted at the screen. I was three hours deep into reconciling boarding fees, and my mid-day coffee had gone cold an hour ago. Staring at numbers shouldn’t have been this hard, but somehow every cell required double-checking today.
La Cuesta’s boarding income was crucial and was where most of our income came from. My head throbbed as I added another note about a late payment for the fourth month in a row. And don’t even get me started on the missing payments from summer camp enrollees.
The camps were a whole other logistical nightmare with liability waivers, snack budgets, activities, and emergency contacts.
I rubbed my temples, reminding myself that the camps brought in good money and that my cousin handled most of the work once the camps were in session.
All me and the guys had to do was show up on our assigned day to help.
A burst of female laughter cut through my concentration, followed by Kellan’s deeper chuckle. I tried to ignore it, but she laughed again, ending with an unexpected snort.
“Focus,” I muttered to myself, staring harder at the computer screen.
The next peal of laughter broke my resolve. I snapped my laptop closed and followed the sound to the indoor arena. Kellan was holding his phone up while Quinn pranced around on her stick horse.
“Okay, this time with more enthusiasm!” Kellan directed. “Like you’re winning!”
Quinn backed up, then charged forward toward a hurdle. With surprising grace, she leapt over it, making exaggerated faces of concentration that dissolved into giggles as she landed.
“Perfect! This is going to break the internet.”
I leaned against the railing, arms crossed, watching their back-and-forth. There was an ease and flirtatiousness between them. While I hadn’t asked, I was sure lines had been crossed between them.
Kellan tucked a stray strand of hair behind Quinn’s ear. They had to be sleeping together. Not that it was my business. Or that I cared.
Kellan looked up and spotted me. “Enzo! Just the man we need.” He waved me over enthusiastically. “Come film this next part for us. I need to demonstrate proper stick horse form.”
“I’m in the middle of invoices and preparing for the camps to start next week.” I hoped the tone in my voice prompted him to help.
“On a Saturday?” Kellan raised an eyebrow and then checked his watch. “I need to prep for that trail ride in a bit.” He handed his phone to Quinn. “Record yourself doing a few more jumps and I’ll edit it all tonight.”
He jogged toward me, slapping my shoulder as he passed. “Don’t be such a killjoy, Perez. Social media is bringing in half our new clients these days and could bring in so many more.”
After he left, I lingered next to the arena, telling myself I was just taking a break before diving back into numbers.
Quinn set the phone up against a bucket and hit record, backing up with her stick horse.
Her face was flushed from exertion, hair escaping her ponytail as she charged forward and leaped over the hurdle, letting out a victory whoop that echoed through the arena.
She circled back around, still galloping, and grabbed the phone, laughing to herself as she watched the playback. When she finally looked up, she caught me watching.
Her face lit up, and she waved me over. “I think I’ve really got this jumping form down.”
Against my better judgment, I walked toward her. There was something about being around her that both put me on edge and put me at ease. It was like my brain knew if I got too close there would be no hope for my heart and body.
Her shoulder pressed against mine as we both watched the video. She smelled like she’d been rolling in sunshine, and I resisted the urge to bury my face in her neck and inhale deeply.
“It’s like you’re one with your inner horse.” It was really the only way I could describe what she looked like prancing around.
She grinned up at me, and fuck if it didn’t make me want to spend every day of my life making her smile. “Kellan’s going to start a whole series on hobby horsing on the ranch’s social media pages.”
“Of course he is.” I handed the phone back, careful not to accidentally brush her fingers.
She studied my face. “You look stressed. Like, more than your usual level of stressed.”
“I have work to do.” Even though I really wanted to stay right where I was with her.
She nudged me with her shoulder. “What do you like to do for fun?”
I blinked at the question, momentarily caught off guard. The concept of fun felt foreign. “I ride.”
She shook her head, twirling Thunderbolt’s reins between her fingers. “That’s work. I mean for actual fun. The thing you do because it makes you happy, not because you need to do it.”
“I have a ranch to run.” I crossed my arms, falling back on my standard defense. The statement usually ended conversations about leisure time or me working too much.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, undeterred by my closed-off stance. “Everyone does something just for themselves.”
“I go line dancing sometimes.” It felt like I was confessing a crime.
Her eyes widened, excitement spreading across her face in such a way that it made me feel excited. “No way! That’s perfect!”
“It’s not a big deal.” I shifted my weight, suddenly aware of how close we were standing. The way she looked at me made me feel transparent, like she could see straight through my bullshit.
“Can we go?” She bounced on her toes. “That’s exactly the energy I need for my training! Cowboys and line dancing!” She tried to do what looked like a little two-step in place, her boots scuffing semicircles in the arena dirt.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” The last thing I needed was to see her move her hips. The thought of it made my pulse quicken.
“Please?” She clasped her hands together, pressing them under her chin like a child begging for ice cream. “It’s for my development as an athlete.” She gave the stick horse a little pat, and I swear the inanimate object was somehow in on this conspiracy against me.
I should have said no and retreated to my office where spreadsheets didn’t smile at me with hopeful eyes. But something about Quinn’s earnestness chipped away at my resolve. “Fine. Be ready by seven. They have a beginner’s lesson beforehand.”
“Yes! It’s a date!” She froze, eyes widening. “I mean, not a date-date. Just two people going to the same place at the same time for educational purposes. Thunderbolt’s education, obviously.” She clutched the stick horse closer, using it like a shield.
“Technically, he has no brains to learn.” I gestured to Thunderbolt, trying not to laugh. “But there are a lot of people who walk around without using their brains, so sure, we can count him.”
“Right! Exactly.” She nervously tugged at her ponytail.
“So it’s definitely not a date because there’s three of us, and dates traditionally have two people, unless it’s a double date, which this still wouldn’t be because Thunderbolt is a stick, not a person, and I wasn’t implying—” She took a deep breath.
“I meant we have plans. That’s all I meant. ”
Her face had turned red, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling, which would only make her more flustered. The woman who’d been confidently jumping around with a practical broomstick between her legs minutes ago was now tripping over her words because of me.
“Seven o’clock, and don’t bring the horse.” I turned to leave before she saw the smile spreading across my face.
The Sand Dune Bar was packed as the DJ transitioned into a faster track. The crowd on the dance floor fell into perfect formation, boots stomping in unison, the synchronized movement rippling through the room like a wave.
Quinn had picked up the steps quickly during the beginner’s lesson, but watching her now as she executed a perfect grapevine, she looked like she’d been dancing for years.
I’d stepped off the dance floor to grab a drink but ended up lingering by the bar, beer in hand, telling myself I was just making sure she was having a good time.
I tracked her movements, the way her lips formed the silent count, the flash of determination when she nailed a complicated turn after several attempts. She caught me watching and grinned, motioning for me to rejoin.
I shook my head, raising my beer in salute instead.
Quinn rolled her eyes and broke formation, weaving through dancers until she reached me. “Come on!” she shouted over the music, grabbing my forearm.
Before I could protest, she pulled me back onto the dance floor, while I hastily guzzled down my beer, and left the bottle on the nearest table.
The song changed, and cheers went up as a crowd favorite began to play.
Quinn caught on to the new pattern quickly, mirroring my movements.
When she stumbled on a turn, my hand shot out automatically, steadying her.
I pulled back as soon as she found her footing, but my palm tingled where it had touched her.
The song ended, and we found ourselves at the edge of the dance floor, both breathing hard. Quinn’s cheeks were flushed, wisps of hair curling damply at her temples. Under the lights, her skin glowed.
“You’ve been holding out on me.” She pressed a hand to her chest, catching her breath. “You can actually have fun.”
“Don’t tell anyone.” I wiped sweat from my forehead with my sleeve. “I have a reputation to maintain.”
Line dancing was the one activity besides riding where I could shut off the constant checklist running through my brain. Here, there was only the rhythm and the steps. I really did need to do it more often.
Quinn laughed, the sound barely audible over the noise but somehow cutting straight through to my core. She leaned closer, her breath warm against my ear.
“Your secret’s safe with me, Spreadsheet King.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Spreadsheet King?”
“Kellan showed me your chicken egg production chart. Color-coded tabs and everything.” She bumped her shoulder against mine. “Very sexy.”
My mouth went dry at the word “sexy” coming from her lips, and I swallowed hard. “Organization is underrated.”
“So is letting loose once in a while.” She nodded toward the dance floor where a new line dance was starting. “Look at them having the time of their lives without a single Excel formula.”
“Bold assumption. That guy in the blue shirt could be a data analyst.”
Quinn squinted at the man doing an enthusiastic hip thrust. “Hmm. Accountant, maybe. Too much rhythm for data analysis.”
I grinned despite my best efforts not to. We watched as the dancers turned in perfect synchronization to a difficult line dance, and while I could have joined, I was content just standing there with Quinn, our arms occasionally brushing.
“What other hidden talents are you keeping from me?” Her eyes were still on the dance floor.
“If I told you, they wouldn’t be hidden.” It would be better if I showed her, and they definitely weren’t appropriate.
The song transitioned into a slower song that wasn’t a line dance, and the crowd shifted, couples forming while singles drifted toward the bar. The familiar opening notes of an old country ballad filled the room, and Quinn’s eyes met mine.
There were a lot of things I should have done when it came to this woman, but walking away when she looked at me like that wasn’t one of them.
I held out my hand. “Want to dance?”
She hesitated for half a heartbeat before placing her palm against mine. I gently tugged her closer until we stood chest to chest, aware of every point where our bodies connected.
Her free hand landed uncertainly on my shoulder, and I settled my palm against her lower back, careful to keep it respectfully high even though the thoughts running through my head were anything but respectful.
The scent of her shampoo wrapped around me as she rested her cheek against my shoulder. “You’re good at this.”
“Just counting beats.” I adjusted my grip slightly, drawing her imperceptibly closer.
“I didn’t mean dancing.” She pulled back enough to look at me, eyes bright with amusement and something else. My control frayed as her lips parted slightly.
“Quinn.” Her name slipped out, thick with a hunger I was trying damn hard to swallow.
“Hmm?” Her gaze dropped to my mouth, then back up.
I dipped my head, my lips hovering over hers. Waiting. Giving her every chance to pull away or to laugh it off.
Instead, she closed the gap between us.
The first touch of her lips was soft and tentative. My hand pressed firmly against her lower back, drawing her closer as I deepened the kiss. Everything and everyone around us faded except for the heat between us and the soft sound she made against my mouth.
My fingers trailed up her back to tangle in her hair, cradling the back of her head as I angled her face for better access. Her hands slid around my neck, and she pressed herself fully against me. The contact sent a jolt of electricity down my spine, and I broke the kiss, both of us breathing hard.
The song ended, the last notes fading as reality rushed back in. She was leaving soon, but she deserved more than a one-night stand. Not only that, but I was fairly certain Kellan’s crush extended beyond the physical.
But as she looked at me, all my reasons why this was a bad idea fell away. “Want to get some air?”
She nodded, slipping her hand into mine as we made our way toward the exit.