Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“We used to fight over him.” I laugh as I turn to Buckwheat and run my hands over his mane again. “I was a brat demanding to our parents and my sisters that he was all mine. He loved me more, didn’t you, boy?” I ask Buckwheat. His nose nudges me, but it’s not because he’s agreeing with me. He just wants my carrots.
“You think I could take him?” Macklin asks.
“What?” I ask, turning to look at him.
“You said he was yours, but I think I can give him some competition.” His green eyes sparkle with mirth.
My heart kicks up its rhythm. “What? You think you want to be mine, too?” I tease him, averting my gaze back to Buckwheat.
“I do.” He steps closer, and I can feel his hot breath against my cheek, but I keep my eyes on Buckwheat. “What do you think, boy? You ready to fight for our girl here?” he asks the horse.
Macklin lifts his hand to pet the horse, while the other moves to rest against my back. Even through the layers of my heavy winter coat and the sweater I’m wearing, I swear I can feel his warmth.
“If you’re trying to cheer me up from my breakup, you don’t have to. I’m fine.”
“Are you?” he asks, turning his gaze back to me.
This time, I turn to look at him. “I really am. It was a long time coming. If anything, I’m pissed at myself for not breaking things off sooner.”
“You dodged a bullet, and now you’re back home where you’re supposed to be.”
“You think so?” I ask, feeling vulnerable, because I still have a sense of being a little out of place. It’s weird to feel like you’re home and like you’re the outcast all at once. I know that’s just from being out of the loop, outside of daily phone calls. My sisters included me in their lives as much as possible, but it’s nothing like being here, living it with them.
“I do,” he tells me. “It would have been pretty damn hard to make you fall in love with me while you were living in New York with him.”
I can’t help it. I toss my head back in laughter. It’s part disbelief and part nervousness, because while he’s smirking, there’s still a seriousness to his tone that I’ve never heard before. “I think I’m all set on relationships for a while,” I tell him, once my laughter subsides.
“That’s fine,” he says, his hand sliding around to my hip, pulling me into his chest. “As long as I’m the one who gets the first shot once you’re ready,” he replies huskily.
“Come on now,” I say, laughing and stepping out of his hold. I’m well aware that he let me get away because his grip was firm.
Macklin holds his hand out to me, as if asking me to shake on it. “Do we have a deal, Baylor?”
I freeze. “You can’t be serious.”
“Trust me, beautiful, this is very serious.”
I shake my head, reaching down to pinch my thigh. “Ouch,” I yelp at the pain.
“Don’t do that.” Macklin once again steps in close, invading my space and all my senses. “Why would you hurt yourself?” he asks, moving his hand to my thigh to massage the area I just pinched.
“To wake up from this dream.”
“Aw, do you dream about me, sweet Baylor?” he coos.
“Stop.” I laugh again, because what else can I do? This is not at all what I was expecting when I came out to visit the stables this morning.
“You have to promise me,” he says, his hand still lightly massaging my thigh.
“W-What? What am I promising?”
His grin grows. “That I get the first shot.”
“First shot, right.” I nod, but I’m having trouble keeping up with his hands on me. “First shot,” I say again.
“First shot at making this mine,” he says, placing his free hand over my heart. There are layers of clothing between us, but I swear, my heart is pounding so hard, he can surely feel it.
“You want my heart?”
“It’s only fair, since you have mine,” he counters.
“Macklin, what’s going on?” I ask, because this conversation is turning my world on its axis. There’s a thirteen-year-old girl inside me who used to make him and the guys friendship bracelets. The same girl who used to write Mrs. Macklin McBride in her diary wants this to be real.
Then, there’s the thirty-year-old woman, who knows that this is not really happening. But this dream feels so real. The pain in my thigh feels real. His touch feels real.
“You told me you’re not ready, and I respect that. However, I’ve missed my chance before, and I’m not willing to let that happen again, so we shake on it. When you’re ready, I’m the man who gets the chance to steal your heart. Just me, Baylor.”