“Hey,” he said. He unlocked the fridge, pulled out a Coke, and popped the top. “You hungry?”
You hungry?had become his standard greeting the past week. Clearly my cheese sandwich had scarred the man for life. Steven did not believe I possessed the skills necessary to feed myself and my growing fetus, and I was disinclined to correct him on that.
My brain glazed over as I watched him lift the can of soda to his lips and tilt his head back, the strong lines of his throat moving in deep swallows.
“I could eat,” I said huskily.You. I could lick up every last drop ofyou. My tongue swiped my bottom lip like I could taste him there.
He slowly dragged the heel of his palm across his mouth, his eyes darkening as he stared at me. “Chloe…”
“Hmm?” Somehow I had swayed closer. Somehow my fingers were toying with the zipper of his vest.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
He captured my wrists and pushed my arms down to my sides, then gave me a wide berth as he stalked past me. The bathroom door slammed.
A second later, I heard the shower turn on.
I came homefrom sewing circle on Sunday to find Steven out front, a horse hoof propped between his leather chaps. A gorgeous blonde woman held the lead rope clipped to the horse’s bridle.
“What’s going on?” I asked. My tone was undeniably testy. Seeing this very pretty, very unpregnant woman looking at Steven in a very interested way set my teeth on edge.
“Annabelle here threw a shoe while Lydia was riding the property line.” Steven rasped the hoof gently. “Lydia figured she might as well swing by for a new set since Annabelle was due anyway. I’m on the last hoof now.”
“Steven is such a lifesaver,” Lydia cooed. She smiled at me. “You must be Amy. I’m happy to finally meet you, neighbor.”
Damn, she was friendly. I eyeballed her. She was also a wee bit overdressed for ranch chores. Unless she always fixed fences with perfectly curled hair and the kind of girl-next-door makeup that looked natural but took a good half hour. I bet Annabelle hadn’t thrown a shoe at all. Lydia had probably pried it off with her bare hands. Honestly, I wouldn’t blame her if she had.
“I’m Chloe, actually,” I corrected sweetly. “I moved in a couple weeks ago.”
Lydia’s forehead creased as she looked me up and down. I kind of wished I had a more obvious belly bump, just to make her wonder who the father was, but I was squarely in themaybe she’s pregnant, maybe she ate a burritostage. “You live here?”
“With Steven,” I confirmed.
Her lips turned down, which had a direct and opposite effect on my own.
“He didn’t mention that,” she said.
Like puppets on a string, our heads swiveled in unison to look at him.
He released Annabelle’s hoof and gave her a brisk pat on the neck. “It didn’t come up,” he said.
Well, whathadcome up while he played hot farrier with the hot neighbor? I could think of at least one thing I really, really hoped had stayed down. And that was stupid. I had no business feeling all surly and proprietary about Steven.
He headed to the forge he had set up on a metal table next to his truck, pausing as he passed me. “You hungry?”
My gaze ate him up. The leather farrier’s apron with medieval-looking tools tucked into the pockets. The black smudges on his hands. The lines of sweat running down his neck. Slowly I lifted my eyes to his. “Starving,” I whispered.
A muscle popped in his cheek and his eyes darkened. “You’re going to be the death of me, Chloe. You know that?”
I didn’t know what he meant by that. I pivoted to watch him use forceps to grab the hot steel shoe from the forge, then pivoted again as he brought the shoe to Annabelle and settled her leg between his knees again. I knew my ogling was obvious and I didn’t care. Someone could have been throwing hundred-dollar bills behind me, and I still wouldn’t have been able to tear my gaze away from him.
Steam hissed and billowed as he placed the hot shoe on Annabelle’s hoof. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple and followed the sharp curve of his jaw. I wanted to lick it up.
Lydia and I sighed in unison and pretended we hadn’t.
Steven only let the shoe stay against the hoof for a few brief seconds before taking it away again and dropping it in a pail of cool water. After a final pass of tidying the hoof, he nailed the shoe in place. Annabelle nibbled on his hair as he bent over herhoof, making him laugh, but he never lost focus on perfectly aiming the nails and hammer.
“There you go, honey,” he murmured, setting her hoof down, and I melted a little further. The way this man loved animals made my knees weak.
