Page 43 of Puck and Prejudice

Using my legs, I signal Apollo to move again. Now that he’s carrying two people, I keep our pace at a steady trot so as not to strain him.

Izzie shivers again, and this time, I’m certain it’s because she’s cold. I hold the reins in one hand and tighten my other arm around her, pulling her closer to my chest.

Her spine goes rigid. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you don’t turn into a popsicle. Relax.”

“I’m not tense,” she argues, but a second later, she leans into me.

I bring my lips to her ear again and whisper, “You aren’t now. Good girl.”

“Don’t call me that,” she retorts, but her reply has no bite.

“Why not?”

There are many reasons I shouldn’t flirt with Izzie, at least, I thought there were. But I can’t think of a single one right now. I just know she feels good in my arms.

She doesn’t answer right away, so I press. “Why not, Izzie?”

“Because you haven’t earned the right to call me that.”

I smile.

Not yet.

ChapterEighteen

IZZIE

Once I’m back in Jackson’s house, wrapped in a towel because I’m dripping wet, mortification finally hits me. I can’t even look at him right now.

“Both of you need to get out of those wet clothes immediately,” Dione tells us.

“I can’t. I have nothing to wear.”

“You can borrow some of my clothes,” Jackson offers.

My brows pinch together. “I’ll swim in them.”

“Don’t be silly, Jackson,” Dione interjects. “She can wear something of mine. We’re closer in size.”

“Right.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Well, I’m off to get out of my wet clothes. Then we need to hit the road.”

Great. Now I can add guilt to my embarrassment. “I could just wear the PJs, if they’re still in the bedroom. It’ll be faster.”

Dione frowns. “I haven’t taken them yet, but you can’t wear them.”

I start toward the room. “It’s fine. It’s not like I need to go to work in them. Once Jackson drops me at my car, I’m going straight home.”

“But—”

“Let her be, Dione,” Jackson intervenes.

God, he must be late already. I can’t blame the weather for it. I should have never let Mickey convince me to go for a horseback ride. I knew better.

I run to the room, lest I delay him even more. The PJs are neatly folded on the bed where I left them. I peel off my scrubs and use the towel to dry myself, then realize that I’ll have to take my underwear off too, or it will look like I peed my pants. Oh God. I have to go commando and sit in a car with Jackson for an hour like that. The PJ pants aren’t see-through, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll know. There’s nothing I can do about it.

I glance at my reflection in the full-length mirror and wince. I look like a drowned, harassed rat wearing cute PJs and wet sneakers. It’s providential that I wasn’t wearing any mascara, or I’d look like a raccoon instead of a rat, which would be a tad worse.

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