Page 8 of Dirty-Talking Cowboy
“You are.” His hand slid up from my thigh, back to my waist, fingers splaying wide again, and this time it felt deliberate. Possessive. “And before you start spiraling about whatever insecurity is running through that head of yours, let me make something real clear. I like what I felt. A lot.”
My face went hot. “You don’t have to—”
“I don’t do things I don’t want to do, and I sure as hell don’t say shit I don’t mean.” His thumb stroked along my side, just once, and the casual intimacy of it made me shiver. “You’re softin all the right places, Maggie. That’s not a problem. That’s a feature.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. Didn’t know how to process the way he was looking at me, like my curves were something he appreciated rather than something I should apologize for. I’d spent so many years being overly aware of my body, of taking up more space than I was supposed to, of not fitting into the narrow definition of what men were supposed to want.
But Rhett was looking at me like he wanted exactly what I had to offer.
“I...” I swallowed hard, trying to find words. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he repeated, and his smile was slow, satisfied. “Now, feet in the stirrups. Sit up straight. Reins loose in your hands—the mare knows what she’s doing, you’re just along for the ride.”
My body heated because I knew he was talking about something else entirely.
He spent the next few minutes adjusting my position, his hands impersonal now, professional, showing me how to hold the reins and where to keep my weight. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d touched me before, the way his fingers had felt against my waist—heaven help me, my ass—the rough approval in his voice when he’d said he liked it.
No one had ever said that to me before. No one had ever touched me like they couldn’t get enough, like they wanted more rather than less.
Finally, he swung up onto his own horse with that effortless grace that made me equal parts annoyed and attracted. “Follow me. Stay close. If you feel like you’re losing your balance, don’t panic—just call out and I’ll help.”
The morning air was cool and crisp. And the ranch? It was beautiful. Breathtaking, actually, in a way that made my chest tight.
Rhett led me along the fence line that separated our properties, pointing out places where the wire had come loose or posts had started to rot. He talked about water rights and grazing rotations and a dozen other things that I tried to pay attention to, but I kept getting distracted by the way he sat in that saddle, comfortable and confident, like this was where he belonged.
Which he did, I reminded myself. I was the outsider. For now, I told myself. Only until I learned what the heck I was supposed to do.
After about twenty minutes, he led me to a spot where a tree had fallen across the fence, bringing down a section of wire with it.
“This needs fixing,” he said, dismounting. He walked over to me, holding the reins as I climbed down from the mare. Surprisingly, getting off wasn’t as difficult as getting on.
“Good girl,” he said. “Now tie the reins to the fence.
I did so quickly, trying to figure out why his words had such a strange effect on me.
Good girl. Two little words and my entire body went molten.
Did I want to be his good girl? Apparently, my hormones had already RSVP’d yes, please.
“Can you fix it?” I asked.
“I can. Question is whether you can.” He glanced at me. “This is your property. You need to know how to handle this kind of thing yourself.”
“Then show me.”
Which he did.
Apparently, he’d brought a whole freaking tool box in his saddle bags. Something, he pointed out I needed to start doing, no matter where I rode. He was patient as he walked me through the process and I had to admit my respect for him grew. Yes,he was still a charming asshole for the way he was crowding my space, making me ultra-aware of him.
But he was a good teacher.
He could teach you a lot of things,my inner bad girl whispered as I pulled the wire tight between the fence posts. He stapled it in place and we both stepped back. I looked at the repair with immense satisfaction. “There. Is that okay?”
“Looks good.” He pushed his hat back and grinned down at me. For the first time, I saw the faint threads of silver at his temples. I knew he was older than me. I could tell by the lines around his eyes. The way he carried himself. And for some reason, the thought only made my awareness of him skyrocket.
I moved, knowing I had to get away from him before I did something I’d regret. Or not regret.
Damn, I was so confused.
