Page 117 of The Americana Playbook

“Fitz,” I whine, knowing he’s going to end this. “Please.”

“There you go begging again,” he tells me wickedly. “I told you, you’ll be sick of it, but I won’t.”

“You’re really going to make me wait?” I pant as he kisses along my jaw and down my neck. “What are we? Teenagers?”

He hums against my skin and begins rolling his hips into me. “Based on how things went that night, I’d say you’ve got me feeling like one.”

My hands fling from the counter and wrap around him, one finding the thick hair at the back of his neck. “I guess I wouldn’t mind it.”

“Mind what?”

I rotate my hips in sync with his. “Pretending… we were doing this years ago.”

Fitz groans softly. “Tell me more.”

Just as I’m about to do that, there’s a hefty knock at the apartment door. Fitz’s head falls against my shoulder as Nick’s voice sounds from the other side.

I pout.

Fitz sighs. “Just be patient with me. I want all the time in the world with you. A bit after camp, we’ve got a long weekend before we’re back full time. Let me take you on a mini honeymoon so we have no distractions.”

“Promise?”

He carries my hand it to his mouth, laying a kiss across my knuckles. “I’d never break one to my wife.”

* * *

“Remind me next month to credit you,” Abby calls out. “Most of our riders don’t hang out to clean stalls.”

Bernard slows his trot, and we round the fence. “I don’t mind. You get what you give back. I’ll help take care of him if he takes care of me. But even if he didn’t, I probably still would.”

Abby smiles like she understands. One might think horses don’t have a lot to give humans, even the ones who train and ride them, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m not sure if, after Honey died, any person on earth gave me more love, more appreciation than a horse.

“My guess is that’s your husband.” Abby points toward the other side of the pen where Fitz approaches.

Gently, I dismount, unclipping my helmet and gathering a hold on Bernard’s reins. “What makes you say that?”

Abby leans against the fence. “Because he only resumed breathing now that you’re on the ground.”

I raise my hand to wave. “I told you I’d be busy cheating on you this morning.” For good measure, I lean against Bernard. “Isn’t he amazing? And such a good boy.”

Fitz narrows his eyes playfully. “Now I’m really hurt. I thought I was the only man you’d ever call a good boy.”

Abby snorts.

“Abby, now you can officially meet Fitz,” I say, rolling my eyes and teasing. “But don’t listen to my husband. He thinks he’s more of a good boy than he really is.”

“So this is the guy, huh?” Fitz leans over the fence, patting Bernard.

“This is.”

Fitz turns to Abby. “And he’s in good shape?”

“The best shape.”

“Comes from a good family?” Fitz asks.

I look between the two of them. “What are you?—”

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