Chapter 6
Cowgirl
Though Luke and I have fallen into the habit of taking our breaks together outside, today it’s ten degrees below zero, so cold it hurts to breathe.
I have only one word for that kind of weather: no.
Sometimes, two words.
Fuck. No.
But I want to hang out with Luke, so I stand outside and suffer. Our breath turns into frosty clouds in the cold winter air. Tonight, he’s got shadows under his eyes that weren’t there the day before.
“You look exhausted,” I say. “Is corralling the drunk locals wearing on you that much?”
He stifles a yawn. “One of our mares had her colt at about five o’clock this morning.”
“How did it go?”
“Went okay in the end. It was a breech birth, so the little guy was trying to come out hooves-first. It was touch and go for few hours.”
I clap a hand to my mouth. “Is she okay? Is the baby okay?”
“They’re fine now,” he says, but the corners of his turquoise eyes still look strained.
“That had to be stressful for you,” I say gently.
“It all turned out all right.”
He’s always so calm, a man of such few words, that it’s easy to forget just how full and busy his life is outside of this place.
From what I’ve gathered, Luke doesn’t have much free time, between his work at the ranch, finishing up business school, and this job. But he never complains. Never vents.
At least, not to me.
But being a bartender has taught me that everyone needs someone to pour their heart out to.
I wonder who that person is for Luke. I wonder how to make myself stop being jealous of whoever that might be.
I want him to open up to me. I want to know what makes him tick. Luke is the epitome of “still waters run deep,” and I want to go deep with him.
Unfortunately for me, in every sense of the word.
Older, I remind myself. Wiser.
I bump my hip against his. “You don’t always have to be the strong and silent type, you know.”
“I thought you liked me better that way.” He says it with a teasing glint in his eyes.
“Turns out you have some other charms.”
Many, many other charms.
An eyebrow quirks. “Such as?”
I narrow my eyes, pretending to be stern. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to fish for compliments?”
“Not if they’re back-handed ones.” There’s an almost-smile playing at his mouth.
Somehow we’ve both turned so we’re facing each other as we lean against the wall. We always seem to end up standing close to each other, close enough to touch. To kiss, even.
But we’re not crossing that line.
Even though I want to kiss him so much I can feel it like a magnet pulling me towards him.
“Luke,” I say softly, leaning in close. His eyes drop to my lips as I say his name.
As I go up on my tiptoes, I swerve to the left, planting a hand on his shoulder for balance.
I whisper in his ear, “You’re still fishing.”
Before I slip away completely, he puts a hand on my waist. My breath hitches, my every nerve attuned to where he’s touching me. I can feel the heat of his palm even through my clothes.
“You want to come see the new colt and his mama this weekend?” he asks.
I open my mouth to say yes automatically, and then I close it. I told myself I wasn’t going to get involved with a coworker. It’s one thing to have this simmering tension between us at work, but never take it further.
It’s another thing to start hanging out outside of work.
At his place.
“Madison,” he murmurs, seaglass eyes glimmering. “Wear your boots. We can go for a trail ride after.”
“I’m not exactly a natural born cowgirl.”
“I’ll teach you to ride.”
Those words, in that voice…
Jesus, take the wheel.
His hand is still on my waist. My breathing feels shallow, my whole body coursing with heat.
I bite my lip. “Okay. But only if you promise to take it easy on me.”
Now it’s his turn to lean in close. His hand slides down another inch, resting on my hip.
If he goes another inch past that to my ass, I think I’ll spontaneously combust.
“Promise I’ll break you in nice and gentle,” he murmurs. “At first.”
His fingers squeeze lightly before his hand drops away.
Beaten at my own damn game.
This guy is trouble in the worst way.
And the best way, too.