Nick had always appreciated the beauty of Mother Nature and all the torrents she brought. But there was something about watching the dawn of a new day that centered him, and this morning he needed that more than most. By the time he and Trixie had turned in last night, they had devoured half of the cobbler and were joking around as they normally did. But alone in his room, he’d tossed and turned, unable to get her tears and all the shit she’d said out of his head. When he’d finally fallen asleep, he’d had a scorching dream about taking a shower with her, or rather, taking her in the shower. He’d woken up hot, hard, and horny as hell. The cold shower that had followed had barely taken the edge off.
He spotted the dogs running toward the front of the house and smiled to himself. They were great watchdogs, keeping predators away from the other animals, but they sucked as guard dogs against humans. They were all kisses and snuggles, which made them great companions. Especially since they didn’t challenge every damn thing he said and did.
The dogs barked, and he looked toward the front yard. Trixie was jogging toward the veranda wearing black spandex shorts and a pink sports bra. Heat spread through Nick like wildfire. Her hair was pinned up in a ponytail, and when she flashed that knockout smile, it hit him right in the center of his chest.
“Hey, cowboy,” she said, slowing to a walk as she came onto the veranda.
“How’s it going?”
She sat beside him, and Rowdy and Goldie flanked her, begging for attention. “Good. I knocked out a couple of miles and saw Walt on my way back.”
“Oh yeah? How’s he doing?” Nick knew he was okay. He’d just spoken to him two days ago. Walt was seventy-nine years old but swore he felt sixty, and he had a soft spot for Trixie.
“He’s as flirty as ever. He looks good, though. I swear he never ages. I wonder why he never got married. He’s so charming.”
Nick set Pugsly on the ground and pushed to his feet, unwilling to go down that rabbit hole again. “What’s with you and all the marriage talk lately?”
“I guess last night’s conversation is still on my mind.” She loved up Rowdy. “You brought it up when you told me about Zev.”
He picked up his mug and headed for the door.
She followed him into the kitchen. “What time are we seeing Travis?”
“After lunch.” He washed his mug and grabbed his hat from the table. “I’ve got to take care of the animals, fix the fence on the lower pasture, and run a couple of errands before we go.” Nick had cleared his afternoon because he knew that once she saw those miniature horses, she’d want to spend hours with them.
“Great! I’ll help. That’ll give me time to run a few ideas by you about Rising Hope. Just give me a second to put on my boots.”
He eyed her tanned, taut stomach, remembering the feel of her on his lap last night, the warmth of her freshly showered skin, and the floral scent of her bodywash. His mind scooped up the thought of Trixie in the shower and ran with it, imagining stripping off those running clothes and living out last night’s fantasy.
Great, now he was getting hard.
He looked away and said, “Don’t you want to put on some clothes?” Please put on some clothes. Otherwise I’m going to need a fucking ice bath.
“Don’t be silly. I’m just going to get dirty again. I’ll be right back.” She tossed a wink over her shoulder as she headed for her bedroom.
About a dozen scenarios of getting dirty with Trixie flooded his mind. He filled a glass with ice water and guzzled it. It was official. Trixie Fucking Jericho was going to kill him one slick-tongued comment at a time.
And now he was thinking about her tongue.
THE BONER GODS must have taken pity on Nick, because when Trixie came out of the house to go see Travis later that afternoon, gone were the skimpy shorts and sports bra. She was looking at her phone, wearing jeans and a blue sleeveless button-down shirt that she usually tied above her belly button, but it was tucked in.
He kind of missed that belly-baring shirt, but he was glad Travis wouldn’t see it. She rarely wore shirts that didn’t reveal at least a sliver of her taut, tanned stomach, and she never cared when people gave her shit for it. Hell, she’d always climbed onto his lap, flashed the same killer smile, teased and goaded him, too. She hadn’t changed a bit the whole time he’d known her, which meant his sudden and insatiable desire for her was all on him.
She shoved her phone into her back pocket and looked up. She’d done her hair and put on makeup. Her gorgeous smoky eyes peered out from beneath her cowgirl hat. Silver earrings dangled from her ears, and a simple gold chain hung around her neck. She never wore jewelry. So why was she now? She looked like a million fucking bucks.
For Travis.
He opened the door of his truck for her and said, “Why’d you get all dolled up to go see horses?” As she climbed in, he got a whiff of that feminine bodywash. How had he ever ignored those things before?
“Because you’re doing me a favor by hooking me up with him. I can’t have your friends thinking I’m not a serious businesswoman.”
He chewed on that all the way to Travis’s and realized she was right, and she was smart to take that into consideration. He was proud of her for that and felt like an idiot for being jealous.
When they arrived at Travis’s horse farm, he helped her out of the truck, and she said, “I’m excited to start choosing horses. I still can’t believe I’m really doing this. Did I tell you I talked to Tempest? We’re having lunch tomorrow at Emmaline’s.” Emmaline O’Connor was one of Jillian’s best friends, and she owned a café in town.
“No, that’s great. She should be a big help.”
“I think so, too. Thanks again, Nick, for offering to let me stay with you. I probably would have hemmed and hawed for another few months before taking the plunge. I think I needed someone to say, Hey, what are you waiting for?” She stood by the side of the truck, gazing up at him, and said, “Thanks for being that guy.”
He felt that unfamiliar tug in his chest again. “You’ve got killer instincts and more confidence than anyone I know. I can’t imagine you hemming or hawing over anything. You always go after what you want.”
She shifted her gaze to the barns and paddocks, and when she glanced at him, it was almost bashfully. “Not always.”
Their eyes held just long enough for him to twist around that response and her new bashful smile until he was good and confused. He forced himself to break the connection and said, “We should find Travis.”
As they crossed the parking lot, he spotted Travis walking out of one of the barns. Travis Helms was a single father in his early thirties, and according to Jillian, he was a tall, dark glass of champagne, whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. His adorable three-year-old ringlet-haired daughter, April, toddled beside him in overall shorts and pink rubber boots, holding the lead rope of a palomino miniature horse. She was so damn cute, she almost made Nick want kids.
“Oh my gosh, Nick. Look how cute that little girl is!” Trixie exclaimed.
He waved to Travis. The way his buddy’s eyes lit up at the sight of Trixie made Nick wish Trixie wasn’t such a savvy businessperson to have gotten all dolled up. No, that wasn’t true. He was glad she had a great mind. Her instincts were easily as good as his, and the kicker was, it didn’t matter what Trixie’s hair or clothes looked like or if she was wearing makeup. She could be covered in dirt and she’d still shine brighter than any woman he’d ever seen.