Good Time Cowboy. Maisey Yates

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СКАЧАТЬ that pale skin. He wondered if she knew that. He wondered if anyone had ever told her that anger made her flush a certain shade of rose, that desire made her flush creep down her neck, intensifying the color.

      He knew.

      He knew, because he had been watching her for the past five years.

      There was no way on earth that didn’t sound creepy as hell, but it was the truth.

      “Sure. I never said I wasn’t.” He kept staring her down, even while he got the second saddle on the other horse, while he bent down to tighten the girth. “And you started it. You were the one who asked me about Grant.”

      “I have a feeling you think there’s something going on here,” she said, her shoulders going even stiffer. “But there isn’t. I wanted to make that clear.”

      “All you had to do was say it,” Wyatt said, except, that was a lie too. Because he knew, whatever she said, that she felt this thing that existed between them.

      “Okay. There’s nothing happening here,” she said, waving a well-manicured hand, her eyes still shielded by the large, dark glasses.

      “All right,” he said. “Saddle up, cowgirl,” he said, gesturing to Trixie, the more placid of the mares.

      “All right,” she said, snippy. She placed her foot in the stirrup and hauled herself up on the back of the horse. She wasn’t an experienced horsewoman, not as far as he could see, but she’d definitely been on the back of one before.

      With ease, he put himself in the saddle, and maneuvered himself so that he was in the lead position. “How long has it been since you’ve ridden?”

      “Oh,” she said, sounding slightly thrown at the change of topic. “I don’t know. Not since I was in high school probably? So...a long time.”

      “It’s like riding a bike,” he said. “I assume. I’ve never gone a significant amount of time without being on the back of a horse. Also, I imagine you’re a hell of a lot more saddle sore than you are when you pick up bike riding after a good number of years.”

      She huffed out a laugh. “Good to know. I look forward to the screaming muscles. And as I limp around the house, I’ll remember that you’re the reason I can barely walk.”

      He thought about letting the moment pass by. But then, he thought no. He was going to take it. “Honey, you are not the first woman to say that to me.”

      He couldn’t see her face, but if stiffness was something you could feel in the air, he was certain he felt it now.

      “You’re disgusting,” she said.

      “That is not the general consensus.”

      “See, this really does make me want to go on a date with Grant,” she commented, keeping her tone light. “Because I doubt he would ever say things like that to a lady.”

      “Grant has barely spoken to a woman in eight years. I’m not sure he knows what he would say to a lady at this point in time.”

      That little bit of unexpected honesty made his chest turn a little bit.

      “So he hasn’t... He hasn’t gone out with anyone since his wife died?”

      “No.”

      “I can understand that,” she said, slowly. “I imagine any experience with marriage makes you think twice about jumping in again.”

      “You don’t want to get married again?”

      “Right now? No. And I can’t imagine ever willingly submitting myself to that ever again.”

      “I don’t think his reasoning is quite the same as yours,” Wyatt pointed out.

      “No. I expect it isn’t. But it’s just... More than even the not trusting someone else, it sounds like a lot of work. I was married. I was married for a long time. It’s like, I’ve done it. I’ve seen what that life is like. I’ve seen what it can give me. I’m not really interested in checking it out again.”

      “Been there, done that?”

      “Yes,” she confirmed.

      Damien had a lot to answer for, and that was the damned truth. No, Wyatt wasn’t any more interested in marriage than Lindy was, but she was the kind of woman who should be. The kind of woman who deserved better. Who should have gotten a hell of a lot better than she had. If she didn’t want marriage, it should be because there was something better and brighter out there for her. Not because she was exhausted emotionally. Not because her heart had been battered, ground into the dust underneath the heel of some jackass’s boot.

      “I’ve always thought marriage seemed pretty overrated myself,” he commented.

      She surprised him by continuing the topic. “Why is that?”

      “One woman for the rest of my life,” he said, the lie slipping out easily. “I don’t think I could handle that.”

      As if it all came down to him being afraid he couldn’t control his dick. As if it didn’t have anything to do with the hard, sharp truths he learned about himself when he was seventeen years old. The hard, sharp truths about what it cost to care for someone. Loss and betrayal and defiance, all mixed up together.

      “Well, I admire you for knowing that about yourself.” She didn’t sound admiring in the least.

      “So, we figured we would take the guests down by the river,” Wyatt said, changing the subject.

      All of this was getting a bit too close to places he kept well guarded for a reason. It was one thing to try to get under her skin a bit. It was another to cut his own skin away from the bone and scrape it raw.

      Anyway, the sun was shining and he was out on a horse, in the middle of a Tuesday. Another thing that drove home the fact that he had made good decisions in his life, in addition to a hell of a lot of bad ones. But, for now, he was going to go ahead and enjoy the ones he’d made that weren’t terrible.

      Working outdoors, being able to spend the day out in the wilderness, with a beautiful woman... Well, it wasn’t all bad.

      He maneuvered his horse down the narrow trail that cut through the thick, green grass and behind a copse of pine trees that shielded the river from the rest of the winery grounds. He knew—because Jamie had given him a map to look at last night—that the trail would take them to where the grapevines grew.

      On the other side of the river was a thicker, denser grove of trees, and back in the distance, shaded beneath the firs, he thought he could see a little cabin.

      “Is that your property too?”

      “What?”

      Clearly, Lindy had been thinking about other things too. “There. Across the river.”

      “Oh,” she said. “Yes. Right now, Bea lives in the little cabin.”

      “Really?” The spread was bigger than he’d initially thought. Which made Lindy’s ownership of the place СКАЧАТЬ