Page 42 of Beautiful Distraction

“As far as I see it, we’re adults,” he says, his voiceslightly hoarse. “Consenting, sexually active adults who should have a bit offun.”

Wicked fun sounds about what I’d like to have with him. Ifit just weren’t for the fact that I’m way too into him, and I get easilyinvolved. Too easily, which makes for a dangerous combination.

He laughs at my gloomy expression. “I was talking abouthaving a bit of fun outside. The livestock? Remember?”

Oh.

“Of course.”

He points to my shoes. “You cannot wear those.”

I look down at my boots. “Why not?” Okay, so they have heels,but they’re not stilettos.

“Tell me, Ava, have you ever been on a farm or climbed amountain?”

“No,” I admit. “But they’re way more comfortable than youthink, and I’m willing to learn.”

And I didn’t have time to pack sneakers.

His gaze is quizzical as he regards me and points to thefood on the table. “Dig in. You’ll need the energy.”

“Why? A horse isn’t exactly hard work.”

He cocks his head, and slowly, a grin breaks across hisface. “Who said anything about horses?”

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CHAPTER ELEVEN

Last night’s rain has stopped, but a strong gale is stillblowing. Mud cakes my boots and sticks to my jeans as I trudge after Kellan forwhat feels like miles. The ground is one giant bucket of sludge that seems toslow down my pace and make my usual walks around Central Park seem like anafternoon stroll through the backyard to water the plants.

My legs have never hurt so much in my life. In fact, mythighs are burning, and I consistently feel like I won’t be able to takeanother step. But somehow my groans and huffs keep me going.

Or is it my ego that just doesn’t want to admit defeat?

Or is it the fact that he warned me my boots weren’tsuitable for hiking, yet I wanted to prove him wrong?

Sure as hell, Kellan doesn’t seem to break a sweat. It’sfrigging cold outside, but he’s adamant he doesn’t need a jacket. From behind,his shoulders look magnificent—broad and strong, the muscles barelycontained by his shirt. His thighs are built like tree trunks, and for acareless moment, I imagine myself sitting on his lap, my legs wrapped aroundhis narrow waist, his green gaze piercing mine as he cradles me against him.

But the sexiest thing about him is his tight ass. I wonderif it’s as hard as his biceps. It sure looks like it’s been carved out of stone.

“Ava?” His voice pulls me back to reality. I clear mythroat, thankful that his back’s still turned on me and he can’t see thetelltale heat of a major blush creeping up my face.

“Yeah? What did you say?” I manage to croak.

“I asked whether you’re from NYC, too, or just your friend.”He seems to be having a great time, all cheerful and buoyant as he strikes up aconversation.

“Yep.” My voice sounds so strangled, I might just be on theverge of having an asthma attack.

“What really brings you to this part of the world?” He saysit like Montana’s the Antarctic.

“A road trip,” I say because that’s about all I can squeezeout through my taxed lungs.

Kellan shoots me an amused look over his shoulder. “Justfinished college?”

As if.

I’ve worked my ass off since I turned sixteen.

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