I’d been prepared to turn my sisters down. I have a list a mile long and enough stress to send me into a cardiac. But the second Georgia said she was down to go mudding with the crazy-ass ranch hands who have about as much self-preservation as my mom’s suicidal puppy, I knew I couldn’t stay back. Had to watch out for her.
“You can leave,” he challenges, like he already knows what I’m thinking.
“Yeah,” I grunt, shooting him a look. “Pretty sure I won’t get custody if a social worker dies on my watch.”
He chuckles, shaking his head and gestures to the pasture. “And I’m sure there are about fifteen cowboys out there that’ll be more than happy to keep your pretty little Georgia safe.”
“She ain’t mine,” I mutter, stomach souring. “And not a single one of those dicks will get near her.”
Griff barks out a laugh. “Ain’t yours, my ass.”
Shoving down the strange twist in my chest his words cause is harder than it should be.
I glance up just as Wiki finishes inspecting the tack on Georgia’s horse—a sweet mare named Pudding. He gestures to the stirrup, and I already know he’s telling her to mount.
But even from ten feet away, I can see the cinch strap’s hanging loose—low enough she’ll slide sideways the second she tries to mount. And if that weren’t enough, the fucking bit’s not even buckled right.
My blood boils.
I charge across the barn, boots pounding the ground loud enough to make a few heads turn. “Don’t you fucking dare, freckles!”
She freezes. Wiki freezes. All the horses in the stalls freeze. Wilder and Emmy? Oblivious. Probably about three giggles and an innuendo away from raw-dogging it in the tack room.
Georgia’s mouth drops, arms snapping across her chest. “The hell is wrong with you?”
I don’t answer. Just slow my pace as I near Pudding, keeping my voice low and hands steady so I don’t spook her.
“Get out,” I growl at Wiki, nudging him back.
“Wh-what?” he stammers, his straw hat flopping sideways as he stares at me, wide-eyed. “I—” His throat bobs, and he flicks his gaze to Georgia, giving her a look like she can save him.
Acid swims in my sternum, and my fists clench.
Eyes narrowed, I slide my attention down to his goddamntennisshoesand jab a finger at them. “Get some real boots, kid. You’re gonna lose a fuckin’ toe. Don’t come back till you have ’em.”
“Kade!” Georgia gasps, stepping in like she’s forgotten every single thing I’ve said today. All the ways we got too close. The feel of my hands on her hips.
She leans enough for her breath to graze my jaw. “Not everyone has money for fancy boots. And Wiki is nice. Don’t yell at him.”
Her shoulder brushes mine and my entire body lights up like a fucking livewire. And because I’m a masochistic fool, I inhale.
Jesus. Mary. And Joseph.
This woman’s scent should be illegal.
My eyes cut to hers, and I’m seriously scrambling for composure here, so I say the first thing that comes to mind.
And because I’m slightly neurotic, and too-damn turned on, definitely losing blood flow to my head—I shout it in her gorgeous face. “Why are you telling me what to fuckin’ do?”
Doesn’t even bat an eye. She simply shrugs “Because someone needs to.”
That mouth twitches. Then she bites her lip.
My cock punches my goddamn zipper.
“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”
There’s not a lick of her that’s sorry, but when she bites her lip and stares up at me with those big green eyes, I find I don’t really give a fuck.
