Taking a step back, the heel of my shoes glides over something slick. I overcorrect to not lose my balance, but it doesn’t help. I lose my footing completely, my arms pinwheeling wildly before I topple sideways, landing on the dirty ground rightnextto a fresh, clean bale of hay, which would have cushioned my fall.
Jackson scurries over and peers down at me, squinting intently. “Are you okay?”
“Do I look okay? All I need is for Brandy to lift her tail and take a piss on me for this to be a truly perfect moment.”
Jackson blinks a few times, rolling his lips as if trying to contain himself.
I shake my head, a chuckle bubbling out of me.
Then another one.
I try to hold it in, but a laugh escapes me.
Jackson joins in, and before I know it, he’s doubled over, laughing so hard he’s gasping for air.
I’ve never seen him laugh, much less laugh like this. So free. So joyful. So goddamned beautiful it makes my entire body ache with want for him.
Maybe this has messed up my long-term game plan, but I couldn’t care less about that right now. I feel like I’ve won, seeing Jackson this happy and unguarded.
And as I’m lying spread-eagled on the ground, laughing and covered in horse manure and mud, it hits me.
There is no choice. No option to walk away.
I want Jackson Hunter more than I’ve ever wanted anyone in my whole life.
16
Jackson
I feel horrible about what happened as I approach the door to Maverick’s office, apology coffee in hand. I honestly didn’t mean to hurl the stall litter directly at him. I got a little dizzy, and I miscalculated where the wheelbarrow was.
It was a mistake. An honest mistake.
I knock on the door.
No answer.
I knock again, a bit louder.
Still nothing.
I exhale through my teeth. Okay, he’s mad at me. That makes sense. I thought he believed me when I apologized and said it was an accident, but maybe not? After all, I am the reason his expensive suit got ruined. He’s well aware of my salary, so he knows damn well I can’t afford to buy him a new one. Maybe I can offer to pay him back in installments or something?
Because while we may have laughed about the situation, reality soon sank in. Maverick managed to get to his feet, smiled awkwardly, muttered something about getting changed in his office, then left to do the world’s most embarrassing walk of shame through the barn. Staff had already started arriving for the day, so that must have been fun for him.
I crack open the door. “Maverick?”
Nothing.
That’s strange. I wonder where he is.
Since I’m already here, I decide to leave the coffee and today’s note I quickly scribbled on his desk anyway. My writing has never been that great, but it’s getting really hard to focus on smaller details, so I hope he can read it okay. I place it in the usual spot and start making my way back to the door when an idea strikes.
“Might as well,” I say to myself. Assuming I don’t get fired today, it’ll be useful information to have.
I walk back to his desk, spin around to face the door, and start counting out the number of paces. “Seven, eight, ni?—”
A hidden door I’ve never noticed in the wall swings open. I freeze and blink a few times to make sure I’m seeing what I think I’m seeing. A completely naked Maverick saunters out of what I’m assuming is his private bathroom. He’s dancing and softly singing away to himself.
