He tilts his head slightly, eyes gleaming with something darker. “Keep running that smart mouth, princess,” he drawls, “and you’re gonna find out real fast what happens when you push too hard.”
His blue gaze lingers on me for a beat longer than necessary before turning back to the TV, as he takes a slow sip of his iced tea like he isn’t fully aware he’s torturing me just by breathing.
I roll my eyes, but it’s weak at best. My brain is still very much stuck on the fact that Carter Hayes is sitting shirtless across the room, looking like a damn Calvin Klein ad come to life, completely unbothered while I fight for every shred of composure I have left.
This issounfair.
I force my legs to move and pretend like I’m immune to him, like I’m not two seconds away from spontaneously combusting.
“Whatever,” I mutter under my breath, stalking toward the couch. “You won’t do shit.”
I round the end of the couch and plop down as far away from him as possible, tucking my legs beneath me. Grabbing the remote from the armrest, I don’t even hesitate until Carter’s voice cuts through the room.
“Touch that remote,” he says, slow enough to be a threat, “and I’ll make sure you’re cleaning stalls again tomorrow.”
I snap my head toward him, narrowing my eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”
He smirks over the rim of his glass. “Try me, princess.”
I grip the remote tighter, the plastic cold against my fingertips, and with one decisive click, I flip the channel straight to Entertainment Tonight, the opening credits for Keeping Up With The Kardashians blast through the speakers.
There. My inner turmoil solved for the night.
I glance over at Carter, who’s staring at me like I’ve just committed some heinous crime.
“I told you not to–”
I hold up a hand, cutting him off with a smug little wave. “I heard you.”
He leans back against the couch, his jaw clenched, and his muscles tense under all that inked-up skin.
A man barely holding to his patience.
“You’re really gonna make me suffer through this?”
I stretch lazily into the cushions, flashing him a bright, fake smile. “You don’t have to stay, cowboy. You’re a big boy, aren’t you? You can leave whenever you want. Isn’t it past your bedtime anyway?”
He grumbles something under his breath but doesn’t move. He slouches deeper into the couch as his strong arm drapes casually across the backrest. His fingers are close enough that if I shifted even a little, they might graze my shoulder.
I focus on the screen and try to pretend like I can’t feel him still watching me. My skin practically burns under his gaze. I settle in, completely ignoring him now.
The voices of the Kardashians blare on the screen, and I let out a little sigh of relief. The world outside of this moment fades away.
After a long beat, Carter’s gravelly voice breaks the silence again.
“Don’t forget,” he drawls, his voice low, almost teasing, “you’re cleaning stalls tomorrow morning. Don’t forget your heels,princess.”
I roll my eyes without looking at him. “Kiss my ass.”
I stay focused on the TV, the silence between us hums, the only sounds are the occasional shriek from the TV and the faint clink of his glass as he finishes his iced tea.
For a few minutes, he doesn’t say anything.
Then, I feel him shift off the couch.
He leans in, slow, closing the space between us until I can feel the heat of him ghosting over my skin. His mouth hovers near my ear, close enough that his breath sends goosebumps flying across my skin.
“Night, princess.”
