Chapter 13 Lofton
LOFTON
I had a little extra pep in my step that morning as I headed to the barn, carrying a mug of coffee and a plate of waffles covered in strawberry jam.
And this wasn’t just any jam. This was the recipe for decadence that my mother used to make in enormous pots every summer until her fingers were stained red and the whole house smelled like a candy shop.
We had exactly three containers left in the deep freeze from her final batch.
I didn’t know why, but it felt like the right time to thaw one out.
I hadn’t seen Devon again since our run-in with Sebastian.
When I’d gotten back to the house, Daddy had been out in the barn, fixing a paddock gate with a butter knife.
Why a butter knife? No clue. However, Devon had dropped me off and then promptly disappeared.
I’d taken dinner out for him, but had to leave it in the barn fridge when I couldn’t find him.
I’d even had a glass of wine on the porch, hoping to spot him in the hayloft. He hadn’t been there either.
I considered texting him to see where he was, but technically I didn’t need him for anything. Even if I wanted him.
Heat crept up my neck as I thought about the way Devon held me. His hand at the back of my thigh, warm and possessive. It hadn’t been calculated or part of Bodyguard 101. Marty sure as hell had never touched me like that.
It had been intoxicating, the way his presence anchored me. And then, when I’d moved beside him, his arm falling across my shoulder before sliding to my hip, I’d never felt so safe. Not the kind of safe that came from locks and gates and security systems. I’d had that my whole life with Marty.
This was different. Devon was different. My body had known it before my brain could even catch up. That was the part I couldn’t quite shake.
The way my pulse had spiked.
My skin warming right along with it.
Just for a second, I’d wondered what it would feel like if he had brought his head down only a few inches more and—
I sucked in a breath.
Dammit, Lofton, focus. You’re bringing him breakfast, not your dignity on a silver platter. Appealing as that thought may be.
The barn was alarmingly empty as I walked inside.
Devon and I had settled into a rhythm. Every morning, I’d text him before I left the house, and we’d meet up in the barn.
He’d already have the feed buckets lined up, I’d trade him for breakfast, and while I took care of the horses, he’d sit on Zoey’s trunk and moan his appreciation with every bite.
It had quickly become my favorite part of the day.
“Devon,” I called.
His footsteps caused hay particles to fall like snow through the wooden slats of the loft above. “Coming down,” he called.
Smiling, I eagerly waited to see what mouthwatering masterpiece the universe had brought me that day.
He exited the hay room in another pair of faded jeans and pale-yellow tank top that made his tan skin glow.
His shoulders were darker now, bearing a fresh kiss from the sun, and his boots finally looked like they’d seen more than just the inside of a closet.
He came to a hard stop when he saw me, forward momentum rocking him slightly as his feet locked in place. His gaze raked down my body—quick but thorough.
That more than made my three a.m. alarm worth it.
Yes, I was aware that it was ridiculous to do my hair and makeup before feeding the horses. But, maybe for the same reason I’d thawed my mother’s strawberry jam, I’d put a little extra effort into my appearance that day.
Rather than my normal whatever-the-hell-my-hand-touched-in-the-dark attire, I’d gone with a pair of black, high-waist leggings that made my ass look incredible and paired them with a white sports bra—heavy on the bra, less so the sports.
I wore a mesh long-sleeved crop over it that did absolutely nothing other than add a layer of sexiness.
I hated the gym, but boy, did I love the wardrobe.
Based on the way Devon could not tear his gaze away as he spoke into the phone, I ventured to say he loved it too.
“We knew this was bound to happen. Just wish she’d had some say here.
” He paused, giving me another heated once-over.
“She’s good. Actually, she just got here.
Let me go brief her, and I’ll hit you back if anything changes. ”
He ended the call, shoving his phone into his back pocket.
Hope spiraled in my chest. “Did they catch the guy?”
“No.”
My shoulders sagged. “Damn.”
He closed the distance between us, reaching for the plate in my hand. He plucked a strawberry from the top and popped it into his mouth, his head falling back with a deep moan. “Fucking delicious, and now I gotta ruin it.”
Oh shit. That didn’t sound good.
“Ruin what?” I asked.
I followed him as he carried the plate to the small fridge in the feed room, slid it inside, and then took the coffee mug from my hand. He didn’t take a sip before setting it aside.
Yep. Definitely not good.
“Devon?” I prompted, nerves finally getting the best of me. I barely got his name out before he was on me.
But not in a good way—at least not completely.
His hands landed on my hips as he lifted me like I weighed nothing, setting me on top of the counter beside the fridge. The wood creaked faintly beneath me, but I barely registered it as he stepped in close.
My breath hitched, the air becoming thick. He braced his hands on either side of my thighs, caging me in without actually touching me, his body a solid wall of heat and muscle. “All right, I gotta talk to you about some shit, but first, what’s going on with you?”
“Wh…what do you mean?” I stammered, drunk on his proximity.
“That fucker get in your head?”
“Huh?”
“Sebastian,” he clarified, the name rolling off his tongue like a curse. “He talked some shit about your overalls yesterday, and now you prance in here looking like the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition branched into athletic wear. So, I’ll repeat, did that fucker get into your head?”
Okay, so that was sweet-ish.
But also dick-ish.
I focused on the former.
I scoffed. “No. I just felt like doing my hair today.”
He twisted his lips, disbelief written all over his face. “And makeup?”
“And makeup,” I agreed.
“When’s the last time you wore that outfit?”
I clamped my mouth shut. It had, in fact, been for a Vogue photoshoot, but that was none of his business. “I don’t see how that matters.”
“Mmhm,” he hummed. “Don’t bullshit me. You usually roll out here in pajama pants without even pulling a brush through your hair.
Something’s up, and if you don’t want to talk about it, fine.
But if that piece of shit got in your head making you feel anything less than stunning in a pair of overalls, it’s because he got one look at you and realized exactly what he lost.” He planted his hands on his hips. “That’s on him, babe. Not you.”
I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Seventeen times.
Dear God, that was all sweet. No ish about it.
Though he had completely missed the mark.
Devon was always so astute and hyperaware. Nothing got past him.
Except for the part where I’d gotten dressed for him that morning.
He stared at me expectantly, stone-cold serious, but it was all I could do not to laugh.
How was it possible for the six-foot-four definition of tall, dark, and handsome to be so oblivious?
But sweet baby Jesus in a manger, it was hot.
Him calling me “babe” had only turned up the temperature.
Unable to help myself, I rested my hand on his chest.
His face remained utterly blank, but the speed of his heart beneath my palm gave him away.
Feeling brave—and seriously turned on—I traced my thumb back and forth over the ridge of his pec. “Sebastian has no space in my head anymore. I appreciate your concern. Truly. But I just wanted to feel pretty this morning. That’s all.”
He swallowed hard, his eyes flicking back and forth between mine. I didn’t know what was going on inside that man’s sexy head, but his jaw ticked like he was waging a full-blown war.
“Dev—”
“You don’t have to try to be pretty, Lofton. You were fucking gorgeous in the overalls. And in the pajama pants. And in every other article of clothing that has ever touched your body.”
I drew in a sharp breath.
It wasn’t a novelty for someone to tell me I was beautiful. I worked in a business where beauty and success often went hand in hand. And yet, to have Devon drop his guard and allow even a second of vulnerability—it felt like the world’s highest praise.
“Devon,” I whispered, inching forward, physically aching for him to touch me. To hold me. To show me exactly how gorgeous he thought I was.
However, in the very next blink, he straightened, my hand on his chest falling away as his carefully built walls slid back into place, shutting me out all over again.
The loss was staggering, but an unlikely smile tipped my lips.
Oh, yes. Devon and I were on exactly the same page with our attraction to each other. He was just a little more reluctant to open the book. I could work with that.
He was still close, so before he had the chance to back away, I rested my hands on his shoulders and hopped off the counter, my breasts raking down his front until my feet hit the floor.
“Fuck,” he hissed, immediately turning away. Mumbling under his breath, he gripped the back of his neck and walked to the door. It was as far as he could get from me without actually leaving the room.
A wide, victorious grin split my mouth. “So, what did you need to talk to me about?”
He looked everywhere but at me. “You want to talk first or feed?”
If I had the choice, I wanted to strip him naked and ride him into the sunset.
“Can we do both?”
“Not a both kind of conversation. I need your attention.”
My smile fell as nerves took flight in my stomach. “I guess we’re talking then.”