Page 67 of Home Hearts Hooves

He takes a step towards the edge of the open loft doors and rests his forearm on the header, looking down.

“I do actually, but aren’t we seeing Calamity Jane?”

“Hey, it’s a classic.”

“Sure, it is, in the way that it’s really, really old, but I don’t think it actually fits the true meaning of the word.”

He’s not looking my way, but I don’t mind because the way he’s leaning forward against the header and one leg up on a bale has given me a perfect view of his tight, round ass.

His pants cling to his shape and have me wishing this movie was a private viewing not a whole bloody town affair.

“I’d tell you to take a picture, but I reckon you might,” Preston says, and I avert my gaze from his ass and catch his cheeky smile directed my way.

“I’m not to blame when you go putting it out there, Doc,” I reply, and he chuckles and comes and sits beside me.

“I like that you call me Doc.”

The temperature in the barn grows ten degrees warmer, and if he keeps looking at me with those dreamy eyes, I might burn so hot the whole place goes up.

“It’s… I…”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know. I wouldn’t want you to stop all of a sudden, is what I’m saying,” he says, nudging my leg lightly with his. “Oh, shit, sorry, are you okay?” he asks, suddenly leaning forward as if he would somehow be able to see through the sweats and the boot underneath that he’d hurt me. That is if he’d hurt me.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. How about we both agree to try to relax?”

He lets out a sigh.

“That sounds good to me. I’ll pour us a drink,” Preston says, popping the cork on the wine and quickly grabbing a glass when the bubbles fizz over the top of the mouth. “Wine will help us relax.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ll find it’s non-alcoholic,” I laugh, and he checks the label.

“Oh, you’re right.”

“Yeah. It’s not that I don’t drink. A whiskey after a long day goes down a treat, but with the painkillers they have me on I can’t—”

“No, of course. I should have figured.”

“A whiskey would actually have gone down really well right now.”

“We’ll celebrate your boot coming off with one in a few weeks,” he says, passing me a glass as Preston sits and then shuffles a little closer. Not touching, but close enough that the heat from his body reaches out to mine, begging me to close the distance.

I try to focus on the screen, not wanting my hormones to take over again and embarrass me. My stomach swirls, and I reach for the popcorn, hopeful it might do the trick. But Preston goes to grab some at the same time. His hand brushes against mine, and I look over at him, my gaze moves to his lips, and then his hand closes over mine completely, heat floods under his touch. Children laugh and play below, their voices carried up on the cool breeze.

“I always figured I’d have kids one day,” I say, and he shifts a little to face me.

“Really? How many did you want?”

I shrug. “As many as possible. I figured I’d adopt, you know. Give a home to kids who need it. I have a big family, and this farm was an amazing place to grow up. It could be a place they could really feel they belong, you know?”

“You do that for every person and animal here, so I’m sure it would be the same for any child lucky enough to have you as their dad.”

“You think?”

“I know,” he replies, big, gorgeous eyes moving briefly to my mouth. Does he want me to kiss him?

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