Even though I’d rather go back to sleep, I should technically already be gone, heading to work. Regardless of either, I wait patiently for her to get closer.
When I see her feet come into view, I reach out and tickle her stomach. Me scaring her makes her happy, so yeah, I make a big roar for added effect.
She squeals in delight and takes off.
Mission accomplished.
“Mom says your phone’s been ringing,” she says from the doorway, a nice safe distance from my reach. She’s still smiling.
I look on the bedside table and, sure enough, my phone’s not there.
Must’ve dropped it on my way in last night.
I sit up and realize that my headache has a headache. I groan, genuinely this time, and Grace runs off screaming. Painfully, it echoes around in my skull.
Note to self: don’t make her scream after half a bottle of Patron.
Before I even make it to the bathroom, I see pink slippered feet appear. I squint up at Mom. She doesn’t look happy. I can almost see the lecture hanging around her tight lips.
Thank God, she saves it for later.
“Your boss called. Four times. Something has come up. He wants you to plan on being around the stable tonight and maybe for the rest of the week.”
Great! Not just any day with a hangover, but a long day. Working with horses. Riding them. I’m an idiot.
“I hear ya. I’m getting up.”
She shakes her head at me.
“Son, I just…”
“I know, Mom. I’m fine. Just a bad day yesterday.”
“And drinking didn’t change that, now did it?”
Good point.
Without another word, she turns and walks away, leaving me to get ready for the longest, most uncomfortable day of my life. I head straight for the Tylenol.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - Cami
Even though it’s what I said I wanted, I’m bored looking at the books for the business and the bloodlines of our horses. I really do want to learn it, but today my focus is elsewhere.
I’ve been at it all afternoon, trying my best to stay away from the stables. It hasn’t been easy. Yes, partly because I’ve always loved my early morning rides, but mostly…well…
Not again! Dammit, Trick! Why are you so… ugh!
I can’t even finish that thought. I don’t know how to describe him really. He’s charming for sure. He’s funny and witty. He’s obviously intelligent. He must be good with horses. He’s apparently dedicated to his job. He seems like a good friend. Evidently he can box. Or maybe he’s just been in a lot of fights. And he’s definitely hot. Whew! Like hotter than the ninth ring of hell hot.
I think of those smoky eyes and that sexy smile. I feel steamy and realize I actually get all flushed just thinking about him.
Ridiculous!
None of those words adequately describe Trick, though. I’ve met guys before who are all those things and none of them have had such an effect on me. Not one.
I lean back in Daddy’s chair and prop my feet on the desk. I give in to the urge to think about Trick. Fully. Intently. Just for a minute.
Trick is different. He’s hard to pigeon hole. And what makes him so unique is not so much a blatant, identifiable characteristic, like hot or funny. It’s more like a way about him. He’s magnetic. Dazzling. Mesmerizing.
And then it hits me.
Addictive. Trick is addictive.
Yes! That’s totally it! The more I see of him, the more I want to see. The more I think of him, the more I can’t stop thinking of him.
Yes, that’s exactly the word I would best use to describe him—addictive.
I’m lost in a daydream of him when a knock at the door startles me. I look up to see the very object of my ruminations standing in the hall just outside the study.
I stare at him. It takes me a minute to adjust to seeing him when I’d been thinking about him in such depth. Then he smiles at me and all I can do is stare. I’m sure I look just like a deer caught in an oncoming car’s headlights.
“So, this is what you do all day,” he says, leaning one shoulder casually against the door jamb. He’s wearing old jeans with a hole in the knee, boots and a white t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. A red baseball hat is dangling from him fingers and his hair is messed up, like he just ran his fingers through it.
I’m sure I’ve never seen anything more mouth-watering.
“What?” Ohmigod, I’m actually dazed.
He chuckles. “I said, ‘so this is what you do all day’.”
“Oh, uh, no. I was just, um, going over the books.”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what it looks like.”
I slide my feet off the desk, smiling as I rack my brain for something clever to say. “I work better off my feet.”
One dark eyebrow snaps up.
“Um, I mean, I think better with my feet up.”
The other brow shoots up to join the first.
“What I mean is that I…I’m…”
I feel the blush rising into my cheeks as I stammer. It doesn’t help that Trick is smiling in such a playful way.
Hot damn, he’s sexy!
“I know what you meant,” he says quietly.
My face gets even hotter.
“Please don’t do that.”
“Do what?” I ask.
“Blush. You have no idea how hard it makes it.”
“How hard it makes what?”
He doesn’t answer immediately. He cocks his head to the side and studies me before he answers. “Staying away from you.”
I look down at the ledger I’m holding and bite my lip to keep the smile of pure pleasure from emerging.
You shouldn’t be happy about that comment, you idiot!
But I am.
“Good God, that’s not helping either.”
My eyes flicker up. He has straightened and is running his fingers through his hair, his head bowed.
“What did I do now?”
“You’re biting your lip and…God! It just makes me think of what you taste like.” He sounds almost pained. And I get the feeling if he could get his hands on me, he’d kiss me.
Something hot and exciting builds in my stomach.
I know I shouldn’t ask. He works for my father. And I have a boyfriend. But none of that seems to matter. I can’t help myself.
“Why are you so determined to stay away from me?”
“I’m the help. Your father wouldn’t like it. And I need this job.”