Page 27 of The Runaway and the Rugged
“Hand 'em over.” He reached beneath my elbow and grabbed a hold of the heels before I could protest.
“Thanks,” I whispered, feeling the moment he retreated from behind me, leaving a mess of goosebumps in his wake.
Once I knew Garth was a safe enough distance away from me, I took a long, steady breath before placing my bare foot onto the stirrup.
Jesus, that's high.
The skirt of my dress immediately became a problem. I had no room to move, to swing my other leg over, and in order to do that, I needed to lift it damn near mid-thigh.
“Shit,” I mumbled to myself, desperately trying to steady myself with both palms holding on to the saddle. Everything was wobbling. The stirrup, my feet, Ella. The confidence I had earlier slowly disappeared with each passing second.
I was sure Garth was loving this.
“Need any help there, darlin’?” he teased, obvious enjoyment laced in with his amusement.
“No,” I growled, extending my right hand to reach for the hem of my dress, but ultimately failing. A pathetic groan escaped from the back of my throat, fueling my movements to turn careless. Irritation, embarrassment, I wanted to crawl into a hole and never leave. Then with one wrong shift of my foot, I was slipping.
Falling back.
“Crap!” I shouted, preparing myself for a painful landing, but it never came. Instead, I was grabbed at the waist, saved at the last second by a pair of strong, steady arms. Garth groaned in response as I fell against him and once the initial shock of it faded, he carefully placed me onto my feet.
“You all right?” he asked with his fingers lingering on my forearms, stabilizing me.
Heart hammering, the only thing I could do was nod.
“Good.” He bobbed his head in return. “Tried it your way, Outlaw, now it's my turn.” Without permission, without thinking to ask, he grabbed a hold of my waist and spun me around until I was facing Ella. The whiplash it gave me had me struggling to retaliate.
“Foot in the stirrup,” he demanded from behind me, sending an unwanted chill down my back.
God, that sounded…No. No, I am not going there.
Reluctantly, I followed his instruction, lifting and placing my foot once again in the stirrup.
“Good,” he muttered softly. “Promise I’m not trying to cop a feel, or get a peek.”
Huh?
My head turned to the side, trying to figure out what exactly he meant by that, but when he lowered himself to the ground, it all started to register.
“Uh, excuse me? What the hell are you doing?”
Panic began to set in, but instead of him acknowledging my unease, he did the exact opposite and started to hike up my dress.
Oh my god.
“Garth!” I snapped, throwing a hard, angered glare over my shoulder.
Has he lost his mind?
He’d lifted the fabric just above my knees, not near as high as it certainly felt, but still, I couldn’t believe he had done it. With my head still turned, and my bare legs on full display, I searched for the rancher behind me, and what I captured was something I hadn’t expected.
His head was facing away from me.
Away from my legs while his stare was concentrated elsewhere.
“You’re not looking,” I stated the obvious, mentally kicking myself for repeating what I was thinking.
A mix between a laugh and a scoff rumbled out of Garth. Deep and gravelly, I was wrestling with myself to stay mad at him.
