Page 39 of Fool Me

“Mhmmm.” There’s laughter in her voice as she rubs both her hands over the fur on the traitor’s neck. “Such a mean donkey,” she openly mocks me with her sugary sweet tone.

Whatever. I’d be pleased too if Harlowe’s hands were all over me. Realizing that I envy my reluctant pet, I shake my head,pushing off the fence and brushing past the pretty blonde I have no business being all tied up over. With a glance over my shoulder, I see her talking to both animals, no doubt continuing to praise my mule behind my back.

Fresh from my shower, with a towel around my waist, I spot Harlowe and Echo out of my bedroom window. She’s tossing a ball to Echo, he chases it along the fence, and Muley chases him from the other side of the barrier in a bizarre game of fetch.

Harlowe’s lips part in a silent laugh, her hands braced on her knees as she encourages the two of them. Echo drops the ball at her feet, his fluffy tail stirring up dust as it wags impatiently. She bends and picks up the ball, her shorts riding up and giving me a glimpse at the rounded swell of her ass. It’s not until my cock tents my towel that I realize what a creep I’m being, watching her like this.

How the hell would I explain myself if she turned around and caught me watching her? I turn away, rubbing my palm over my hard length and groaning. Of all the people to have this kind of effect on me, it has to be her. What the hell is the matter with me? I could not have picked someone more complicated to develop . . . whatever the hell this is. A crush? An infatuation?

Five years with my ex and I couldn’t tell you the last time the need to be with her was this strong. Not that we hadn’t had sex toward the end, but it was lacking passion.

It’s even hard to pinpoint where it all went wrong—when the love and passion faded. When we became so complacent. All I know is that Harlowe in my yard, laughing over that stupid donkey, is stirring something in me I haven’t felt in a while.

Dragging myself from the window, I dress, willing my erection away. Walking around Summit Square with a boner in the summer heat sounds uncomfortable as hell. And it won’t do me any favors with the people in town that are already doubting me.

I slip a baseball hat over my damp hair, not wanting to make Harlowe wait longer. When I walk outside, she’s still playing the same game with Echo and Muley, looking pleased as pie.

“If you can charm Muley, we’re going to need to make these visits a regular thing. Cleaning out her stall has gotten me bitten more than once in the past three weeks.” I rub the most recent spot subconsciously.

Her lips part on a dramatic gasp. “My sweet angel baby would never.”

“Want to see the bruises on my ass?”

Her gaze drops, slowly tracking back up until she’s giving me those blue eyes again, and I swear there’s something there, like maybe she wouldn’t mind taking a peek.

“I’ll believe it when I see it . . . her acting out, that is.”

“So . . you don’t want me to drop my pants . . . just to be clear.”

She tries to hide her smile, tucking her chin to her shoulder to look at the equine in question. “You promised me ice cream.”

“That I did.”

“Are you hiding ice cream in your pants, Doc?”

“Definitely not.”

“Then I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.”

Her dry tone has me choking out a laugh.

“Echo, come,” Harlowe calls with authority, and the dog comes running over, skidding to a stop at her feet, ball pinching between his teeth. “Leave it.”

He drops the ball, and she bends, grabbing it and praising a proud-looking Echo. I get an up-close look at the view that had me sprung earlier, only this time, I divert my eyes to the sky, because I’m no saint and I won’t be able to fight off another erection so soon.

She straightens, and I fall in step beside her. “Are we walking into town?”

“I thought we’d drive so we could take it to the overlook to eat.”

She looks up at me. “Really?”

“Yeah, why not? It’s a beautiful night.”

“Oh.” Harlowe sounds surprised by my suggestion. “We can take my car if you don’t want dog hair in your truck.”

“Clover,” I tut. “I come home covered in fur and feathers every day. A few more dog hairs won’t hurt.”

“Feathers? So, Betty is still a regular.”

---