Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 74968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“Which is my horse?” I kept my expression and voice bright as if I hadn’t noticed his glower. Grayson was in the same beige work shirt and jeans as earlier, and his short hair had long since dried, along with any semblance of a positive attitude.
“The horse you can ride is Magnolia.” Grayson’s tone was more formal than usual, like he’d taken special exception to the use of my. “Hannah usually rides her. She’s gentle and hard to spook.”
“Good.” I followed him down the line of stalls, enjoying all the fanciful horse names, not that Grayson’s determined stride gave me much time to linger. “I see you’re back to not liking me.”
“I don’t hate you.” He turned back toward me as we arrived at Magnolia’s stall. His scowl only deepened, and if he was also caught up in memories of earlier, he sure wasn’t showing it.
“But you don’t like me either.” I was determined to wiggle my way under his skin, and if that meant calling out his bad mood, then so be it.
“You’re a bit…aggressively cheerful.” He and the horse, a chestnut mare, sighed in the same long-suffering tone.
“Are you saying I’m too nice?” I tilted my head at him. Most people liked my pleasant demeanor and optimistic spirit. Heck, I worked hard to be charming, and Grayson took offense? “You’re annoyed because I’m friendly?”
“When you put it that way…” He trailed off with another harrumph. “Look, let’s get the horse ready.”
Contrary dude. It was almost like he’d liked me better in that weird mood from earlier, where I’d felt compelled to keep poking him until he felt the need to punish me.
“We’ll have more room to work out here.” Grayson led the horse out of the stall and clipped her lead to a hook on the wall. One would think he was afraid to be in close quarters with me, but naturally, Grayson didn’t show it as he bustled around fetching a brush, saddle, and other implements. In fact, he kept his tone maddeningly businesslike as he walked me through the process of getting Magnolia saddled.
I liked brushing the horse’s velvety coat, but much more of Grayson’s distance and I might throw something. Finally, I’d had enough.
“I take it we’re also not talking about earlier.”
“No.” Grayson didn’t even look up from adjusting the cinch on the saddle. “You’re leaving in a couple of days. It was a one-time thing—”
“Doesn’t have to be a single time.” I made my voice as seductive as possible. As much as I wanted to try riding a real horse, I’d happily ride him instead if he so much as whistled in my direction.
“Yeah, it does.” He glowered at me as he fiddled with a stirrup. “I don’t fool around at work.”
“What about after work?” I sidled up closer to him.
“Don’t crowd the horse.” His glare could freeze half of LA. “There is no ‘after work’ on a ranch. It’s not a nine-to-five that I clock out from at the end of the day.”
He was lying in that I’d seen the hands goofing around over by the bunkhouse after they finished their evening chores. And every western drama I’d ever seen featured poker games and beer-drinking shenanigans in their time off. I had no doubt that, as foreman, Grayson was busy, but I also had no doubt he was deliberately slamming the door shut on more time together.
“So you save your gay impulses for trips to town?” I kept my voice sweet as honey, but my gaze pointed.
“I don’t have gay impulses.” Grayson pursed his lips. He wouldn’t be the first “straight” guy I’d come across, quotation marks very much implied, and the denial wasn’t particularly surprising.
Nonetheless, a frustrated noise escaped my throat. “Your dick says otherwise.”
“And you’d be the first my dick has said yes to in that regard,” Grayson shot back. “Why that is, I have no clue. I need to do some pondering later.” He gestured to a nearby open door with his arm. “Right now, though, you can grab yourself a helmet from that tack room.”
His bald honesty that I was his first male-male sex encounter was unexpected enough that I actually complied with the order, fetching a riding helmet from a row of hooks on the wall of the tack room. The cluttered space smelled like horses and hay, but like most everything else on the ranch, it was neatly organized with a clean, swept cement floor. None of the hands wore riding helmets, but I’d heard Maverick nag Hannah about hers before. Probably wasn’t worth arguing with Grayson over, so I put the helmet on and galloped back over, only for him to hold up a hand.
“You need to approach the horse slowly. Keep where she can see you.”
“And out of biting range,” I agreed as I slowed my approach.