Chapter 8 #3
Probably? Does that mean he still wants his brilliant scientist? That if she showed up at his door, he’d dive right in like he hadn’t talked me through the best orgasm of my life?
“I’m a single guy,” he continues. “That’s that.”
Even if he did ghost me for his ex, he’s single right now, and I’m in the throes of wedding festivities. It’s an offer I don’t want to refuse. “And we’re just going to . . . mess around? You don’t like me.”
“I never said I don’t like you. Besides, you’re not my biggest fan, but you still came for me.”
My cheeks burn hot. “That’s not— It’s just—” Pressure smashes against my ankles. Patches. I pick her up, needing an obstacle between me and the guy who’s offered to continue getting me off. “What about you? Aren’t you going to want something in return?”
I’d tremble if it wasn’t for Patches. I want to touch him. Put my hand on that bulge— Oh God. Is he hard right now? If he’s not, then how big is he when he’s erect?
Why do I want to know so bad?
He scratches the back of his neck and avoids my gaze. “If you think I got nothing out of hearing you climax, then you don’t know what I like.” He shifts to look at me. “We do whatever you’re comfortable with.”
“Whatever we won’t get caught doing?”
He gives me one curt nod. “Just between us.”
It’s a tantalizing offer. Anonymity. The thrill of getting caught. The risk. Do I want to deal with that? I could tank my name in my own hometown, where I’m hoping to get a fresh start.
But I’m so tired of trying to prove myself—to my parents, to my ex, to his family.
I need a way to let off steam that’s more powerful than cuddling kittens, and Durban’s dangling it right in front of me. He didn’t say no strings attached, but he means it. I’m not his type.
No strings. With a hot man who gets under my skin?
I lift my chin and hug the cat. “Deal.”
I have my arms folded, pacing across the tack room in the barn. The vet was out earlier for an abscessed hoof, and all the horses are out grazing. I have Hailstorm, Mildred, and Clyde in the pen closest to the barn.
I’m set to take Stanford and January riding in an hour. Then we’ll work on getting Hailstorm used to two riders before we progress to swooping brides up.
Durban said he’d see me today, but I never clarified how that’d happen. Is he just going to show up? Am I supposed to meet him somewhere? Did he come to his senses, unlike me, and realize what a bad decision this would be?
We’re creating an uncomfortable destiny for ourselves, to be with each other for every family get-together Iverson and Jamison ever have. Awkward birthday parties and self-conscious barbecues. Do I want to see what kind of woman he’ll bring when Iverson and Jamison host Christmas next?
I should call Avery and talk to her, but she’ll ask me what the hell I’m thinking and tell me to keep my hands to myself and not fuck up the wedding because it’ll all come crashing down on me. Avery’s the coldly logical one.
I pace the room, pinging from the wall with the headstalls and lead ropes to the rows of saddles jutting out from their posts in the other wall. The smell of wood, dust, and faint horse sweat rises up around me. Comforting, but not soothing enough.
“The dress was much easier to work with.”
I let out a cry and whip around. He looks as delicious as yesterday. “Is scaring me foreplay for you?”
Heat sparks in his eyes. “If that’s all you think is in my foreplay game, I’m hurt.”
I roll my eyes and hold back a smile. I notice him a lot. “I wasn’t sure how this would work.”
“The spontaneity will make it fun.”
I keep pacing. “How are we going to explain why you’re here?”
He enters all the way and leans against the table across from the halters. “I have business at the ranch until the wedding is over. We have Jamison to discuss and how we’re going to help her and Iverson when it’s baby time.” He shrugs. “We’ll think of something.”
“That doesn’t explain why you’re out here.”
“I miss the animals.”
He says it so simply, I almost believe him.
Nerves zip up my body and back down. I hug myself.
He pats the counter next to him. “I’m not going to jump you. Come and have a seat. We’ll talk.”
I reluctantly do as he says. “This is weird.” I lift myself to sit. I’m still not at eye level with him.
He turns and brackets me in, his hands planted on the surface on either side of me. “How’s your day going?”
A nervous chuckle leaves me. “Not the best.” It just got infinitely better as soon as his body heat radiated into me. The knots in my muscles start to relax. Our faces are close, but I like being able to see the dark striations in his irises.
“Why not?” His question is a caress, as if he’s feathering his fingers down my cheeks.
“I called Bryce to arrange a time to meet up, see if there’s anything I can do for his company, and he asked me out.”
His nostrils flare. “You said no?”
“Of course I said no. I’ve been turning him down most of my life. He used to try to spy on us on the bleachers.” I give him a deadpan look. “He used to try to look up our shorts.”
He snorts. “You realize those three stooges from the bar work out there?”
No, I didn’t think of that. Anxiety ripples through my stomach, but I pretend like it doesn’t bother me. “Stooges? How old are you?”
“Older than you. My dad used to love them.” Surprise flickers through his gaze before there’s a distance back in his eyes.
“Yeah?” I like this side of Durban. The one who acts like he wants me, and that he can’t help himself from showing me the real him. “I bet he was nicer than Chester Baldwin.”
A second ticks by. “He was. A lot nicer.”
“Did our dads know each other?” My fingers tingle to run through the soft strands of his hair. I grip the edge of the counter.
“I don’t know. Maybe. Dad would’ve been older than William. Dad met my mom when he was twenty. Had Iverson not long after.”
“Then you and Haven?”
He swallows and looks down, which happens to be at my lap. “There’s six years between Iverson and Haven. She left not long after Haven was born.”
“Oh, Durban. I’m so sorry.”
His gaze shoots up to me. “Don’t be. We were better off without her.”
“Did you live with her?”
“Yes. After Dad died, we had to. We would’ve been better off if they’d left us alone in the old house.”
I can’t resist touching him anymore. I cup his face. Whiskers tickle my palm. “Is that Haven’s place?”
“Yes. Our mother hated that she couldn’t take all this away from us. We haven’t talked to her since we moved out.” He clasps my wrist and turns into my touch, kissing my sensitive skin. Then he puts his mouth against the inside of my wrist.
Shivers trace through my body, and I widen my legs. He steps closer and places another kiss farther down the inside of my arm.
“Feeling more comfortable, Belle?” he whispers.
“Yes.” So many feelings cascade through my chest. Desire. Anticipation. Giddiness. Since when have I looked forward to a kiss like this?
He drops his head, ever so slowly. Weren’t we going to fool around? This feels deeper. But I’m also not panicking and drinking straight from the bottle like I was last time.
The faintest touch of his mustache hits my lips.
“I know we’re early, January, but the light’s on,” Stanford says way too close to the door.
“Motherfucker,” Durban growls and steps to the side. My knee brushes against a hard-as-steel bulge behind his zipper.
I blink, my head spinning while I try to remember what the hell I’m doing here. Horses. Riding. I’m not in the tack room to make out.
Stanford charges in and stops, looking left. Then right. He spots us and the corner of his lip curls into a sneer.
January stops behind him, putting her hands on his back. “What’s wrong— Oh. Campbell. Durban? Are you riding with us?”
I don’t like the way her eyes light up. “We’re going over the setup for the reception since there’s a chance of rain.” I haven’t looked at the forecast, and we’re way too far out for it to be accurate.
Stanford’s sneer hasn’t let up. “I would think you’ve covered that already.”
“We have,” Durban says. “I like to be thorough.” He ends with a heavy note of suggestion.
I bite the inside of my cheek. “You two are early. Did something come up?”
January’s lips press into a line.
Stanford shoves his hand into his pocket. “We wanted to get started.”
I clap my hands and hop off the counter. “All right. Show me those skills.”
I didn’t say it to be flirty, but January’s pale brows draw together. She’s afraid to lose him the way she got him.
I grab Durban’s forearm. It’s like wrapping my fingers around warm steel. His muscles flex under my touch. “We’ll finish this later?”
His dark gaze pins mine. “Absolutely.”