The scene was idyllic, really.
And she felt turned inside out.
He frowned. “I’d like to think that I don’t take the kind of effort required to be mean.”
She looked away then, a breeze stirring up, moving the air a bit. But her face still felt prickly. “You’re a bit mean.”
She didn’t know why she’d said that. She didn’t know why she was pushing the issue. She didn’t know why she cared at all.
“Did you want to go for a ride?”
She whipped her head back to look at him. “A ride?” She couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d stripped his shirt off and done a seductive dance.
But that made her think of yesterday when he’d walked in with his shirt off. And the fact that she’d seen every one of his muscles on display when he’d done it.
What she knew about his chest was that it wasn’t just broad, it was clearly defined. And what she knew about his stomach was that it was flat and ridged in the most interesting way. But he had dark, compelling body hair covering his skin, and she had never been fascinated by body hair in her life.
But found herself more than a little fascinated by his.
Her face felt warm, and she still couldn’t blame the sun. She kept hoping if she stood there long enough she might be able to. But the breeze was nice. It wasn’t the air.
It was him.
“Would you?” he pressed.
“Yes,” she said, finding herself agreeing before she had even thought it through. “Sure. But I’m not that good at it.”
“You grew up on a ranch and you’re not that good at it?”
She frowned. “I haven’t ridden in years.”
“That doesn’t seem right.”
“I’m just not a horse girl. I mean, I like them, but it’s nothing like my sister. Rose was basically born riding horses and she hasn’t gotten off of them since. Working the ranch is what she does. She’s a real, proper cowgirl. And that’s just never been me.”
“Well, there’s a lot of ground between doing a trail ride and becoming a bona fide cowgirl.”
“I suppose.”
Without a word he went past her, and opened the gate to the corral. The scent of him joined with the sunbaked earth and pine. Something spicy and compelling that made her stomach drop and her heart cramp painfully.
He paused for a moment and her breath froze.
She hadn’t realized that could happen. That your breath could turn to a solid and just sit there, painful, in your lungs.
Then he moved, blessedly, and so could her lungs. He disappeared into the paddock, and she stood there for a while, not moving. He returned with tack, and made quick work of getting bridles and saddles ready to go. He did all of it without asking for help. He did all of it without looking at her, actually.
It was the strangest thing.
She couldn’t help but be utterly and completely compelled by his movements as he strapped the saddle into place. The way each muscle worked, the way his fingers moved. Expert.
She had seen this done thousands of times. Had watched men with equal expertise handling horses. Her brother, Ryder, was so quick with this kind of thing you could barely see his movements. But she’d never found it fascinating.
She found this fascinating. She found him fascinating.
Like some of that wildness in him had possessed her somehow. And she didn’t think that was something he meant to do, or wanted to do. He couldn’t seem less interested in her.
Undoubtedly, he was not standing there pondering her scent and the way it mixed with the breeze.
She’d liked guys before, of course. She’d gone to high school. She’d had crushes. She’d found different men who worked in different places around town attractive. But she was invisible, and always overlooked. She’d always made sure that she didn’t have the time to date, so that it never bothered her when she didn’t get asked on one.
It wasn’t like she didn’t know what it felt like to have a crush. Like she didn’t understand sweaty palms, a racing heart and a tightening stomach.
Except, this was different and deeper, and it felt altogether more dangerous. And she didn’t want to believe that it had anything to do with a crush, because it felt utterly and completely... Well, stupid. She had made a business arrangement with this man. She couldn’t go having it turn into anything else.
As if.
Yeah. This man. Tattooed and bearded and hard, was going to be interested in soft, dull Iris. Who would have done better to be named after a small dowdy bird than a bright, beautiful flower.
It had long been said in their family that Pansy had been given the meanest name. Because she was tiny and tough, and wanted to be a cop, and being named Pansy was an impediment to those things. Rose... Well, her name suited her. Her youngest sister was beautiful, vibrant and full of thorns.
Iris had always quietly felt that her name was a slap in the face. To be named after such a brilliant, glorious flower that couldn’t be overlooked, deep yellows and purples, and all the incredible hues that it came in, being applied to her.
She was plain. And she knew it.
And adding insult to injury she was quite dull.
A little old lady before her time, and she liked it. So what was there to be done about it? She liked quiet. And she liked being at home. And yes, she had felt that she should be wanting more, the desire to make her own space in her own way. But she still didn’t see herself going out on a Saturday night when she had the possibility of binge-watching an entire British detective series while knitting a new sweater.
She just was who she was.
More western meadowlark than an Iris. But nobody was going to name their baby western meadowlark.
And western meadowlarks didn’t attract the attention of big, burly men who seemed to hold the secrets of the universe behind their compelling blue eyes.
End of story.
So she quit staring at him, and chose a leaf that was waving in the breeze to be the recipient of her attention. Then he opened up the gate, and the clanging sound brought her focus back to him. And he led both horses on through, and that was a picture. This man effortlessly guiding the two massive beasts, not with force, but with a gentle hold. His connection to the animals was clear, and even though she wasn’t a horse girl, she found she couldn’t deny the appeal of that.
“All right. Saddle up.”
CHAPTER SIX
HE HAD NO idea in hell why he had invited her to go riding. He really didn’t. But as he watched his plain little housekeeper mount the horse, as he watched a strange satisfaction flood her face and a smile spread slowly over her lips, he found he couldn’t really care less.