Page 3 of Hitch Me

I tilt my head, feigning innocence. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He smirks, slow and sexy as hell. “Just saying, you’ve got to be the only person in this world with a habit of dragging me into situations where I end up sweaty and slightly humiliated. I haven’t forgotten you making me audition for that play or the matching denim dress and tux you had us wearing to prom.”

“Please. You volunteered to wear that. You knew Justin and Brittany were setting trends.” I shake my head as the memories flood back to me. “And just so you know, I had no idea you’d be the one helping get this going. I didn’t exactly lure you here with promises of wine and foot rubs.”

He steps closer, the space between us crackling. “If you had, I might’ve shown up earlier. But there’s something in it for me too. So I ain’t mad.”

I swallow hard, my pulse tripping over itself. “What’s that?”

He leans in, voice dropping. “A chance to watch you bend in ways that are going to haunt me tonight.”

Heat flares in my cheeks and rushes lower into my stomach. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe.” His gaze lingers on my mouth. “But I’m not wrong. Let’s do this then, girl.”

The way he says it has me backing up a step like I forgot what air tastes like. I have to force myself to turn away.

“Right,” I murmur. “Let me just grab a few things from my car... before I start agreeing to things I definitely shouldn’t.”

"What do you need?" His eyebrows furrow as he glances toward my SUV.

"Props, mats, signage, you know, just the essentials. Oh, and a speaker so we can listen to some music while we set up. Don’t worry, I won’t force you to listen to any pop. You can choose.” I start toward the car and Geoffrey keeps pace with me.

"As long as it isn't that damned podcast, I'm fine with anything you want to hear.”

I stop. My blood runs cold as I turn to look up at him. "What?"

"Oh, don't act like you haven't heard that damn thing. Some asshole coming after my family with a robot voice and insider knowledge that's way too accurate for comfort. I’m done with it. Before I was put on this goat yoga project all I was doing was finding the face behind the voice.”

"Boots and Bitching?" The words taste like ash in my mouth. “Come on, it’s just fun right. No one takes it seriously.”

"I do. Thanks to whoever's behind that piece of trash, the whole world knows I got cheated on." His jaw tightens. Fora split second, Geoffrey’s easy charm drops away to reveal something raw and hurt underneath.

My stomach twists into knots. "I was sorry to hear that happened to you."

"Yeah, well, it's what I get for thinking I needed to settle down just because my brothers have." He shrugs off the conversation as he moves toward my car. "Pop the trunk."

Guilt threatens to eat me alive. As Geoffrey starts unloading my supplies, I can't stop my heart from racing. But now it's for a totally different reason.

CHAPTER 4

GEOFFREY

It’s beenthree days of working alongside Brynn Rose in this goat pen and I think I might be losing my damn mind. I can't take my eyes off her. Hell, I never could.

"Hand me that rope, would you?" She calls out, stretched up on her tiptoes trying to secure a banner to the top rail of the fence. Her shirt rides up just enough to show a sliver of smooth skin on her round curves. The sight has me forgetting what the hell I'm supposed to be doing with my hands.

"Got it." I move behind her. I’m close enough to catch the scent of her shampoo. It’s something sweet and familiar that makes me want to bury my face in that cascade of long hair.

When I reach over her to tie off the rope, my chest brushes against her back. I swear I feel her shiver and I know that this electricity between us isn’t just me. My hands work the knot while my mind wanders to other uses for rope.

I settle on an image of myself binding those delicate wrists above her head while I explore every inch of skin she's been hiding under her clothes. The thought sends blood rushing south and my manhood pulsates in response. I have to shift my stance to hide the evidence of exactly what direction my thoughts have taken. I might be desperate for her, but I’m not a fucking creep.

"You're good with knots," she breathes, her voice a little husky.

"I'm good with my hands in general," I murmur against her ear, letting the double meaning hang between us. "Lots of practice working with... difficult things that need a gentle but firm touch."

She turns in my arms. We're face to face with barely an inch between us for what feels like the millionth time in our lives. Her pupils dilate. Her lips part slightly. When her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip, I nearly groan out loud. Brynn Rose has been torturing me since we were in high school.

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