Page 32 of Head Over Spurs

Without another word, he threw his leg back over the ATV and guided it down to the barns. Parking the vehicle back in its spot, he started across the compound to the wash stalls, paincreeping up his spine with each step. And there was that numbness in his legs the doctor asked about.

Fuck.

He tried to focus on the ranch around him instead of the pain. His boots crunching the earth below with each step, a quiet neigh inside the stables, the smell of dirt and grain and of dust and horses.

Reaching the wash stall, he leaned forward, pressing his palms against the wooden wall at the back of the structure. He took a long, steadying breath. Then another. The heat from the water would bring relief, he reasoned.

Carefully, he peeled his shirt off over his head and started undoing his belt buckle as a seductive voice clued him in to the fact that he had company.

“You’re wearing the lightning bolt necklace,” Jules said, satisfaction dripping from her tone.

Still in pain, he turned to face her, leaning on the edge of the stall to support himself. Despite the ache in his back, he was overcome with satisfaction from the way her gaze raked over him. “I was told that I should. Something about how it looked good on me.”

“Mm, especially like this,” she hummed in approval. Taking another step, she came within arms reach, and his hands itched to grab for her.

“What brings you down here, Juliette?”

“I was at the garage today. Apparently, my car was ready in record time. And it’s wild, the special part they needed for it didn’t cost an arm and a leg like I expected. On top of that, they didn’t charge me for the labor. Would you know why that is?”

Pushing off the fence, he closed the remaining distance between them until her billowy tank top brushed against his chest in the gentle breeze. “I’m a man of many talents,” herasped. “But convincing a mechanic to fix your car for free isn’t one of them.”

“I’m familiar with a few of your talents.” Her chin jutted out ever so slightly as she responded, and he seized the opportunity to reach out and take it between his thumb and index finger.

“What made you think it was me?” he asked, keeping her face pointed upwards at him.

“Who else knew my car was there?”

He hesitated, knowing that she could easily confirm with the garage that he had stopped in and talked to them about handling her car with extra care as a personal favor to him. She could also confirm that it was possible for him to do so because the owner of the garage was his cousin. “Anyone who worked there could have simply set their price,” he replied innocently.

“How—”

“Can I askyoua question?” he challenged, suppressing a shiver produced by the flutter of her hair against his bare chest.

“Okay…”

“Why come ask me now instead of at work tomorrow?”

One of her hands came to rest on his abdomen. Her touch warm and gentle. “Honestly, I don’t know. I just had this feeling it was you. And then seeing you today, I watched you leave and before I knew it, I was following you to be sure.”

“And now that you’re here?”

“Now that I’m here, I’m thinking this was a mistake.” She sighed, her bottom lip pouting outward against his thumb. He dragged it along the curve of her lip, noticing the way she seemed to tremble at his movement.

“Juliette, you are making this impossible for me.” Adjusting his hand, he slid his palm up her jaw and tilted his head until his lips skimmed hers. Not enough to consider it a kiss, though it was taking all his self-restraint to keep it that way.

“I know, I know.” She pressed her other palm to his skin,mirroring the first, and turned her head to plant a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll go. But thank you for looking out for my car, it means so much to me.”

Riley closed his eyes as her lips made contact with his skin. And by the time he opened them again, she was gone.

Shedding his jeans, he reached for the cold water and killed two birds with one stone. Juliette Graham was going to be the death of him.

16

JULES

The whine from the coffee machine sounded like it was sighing in commiseration with her. Withdrawing a mug from the mossy-colored cabinet above it, she attempted to tune her attention back into her phone call. The one with her father that started exactly seventeen minutes and thirty-nine seconds ago. But who was counting?

“And thus, our year-to-date variance…”

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