Page 14 of The Front Runner
“Nadia, would it kill you to take a few steps and look for me?”
Nadia rolls her eyes and storms off. Stefan offers me a tight smile as he reaches down to slide his feet into a pair of worn work boots. This angle gives me the perfect view of the muscles in his back as they ripple beneath the plain white T-shirt. I figure if I’m going to be forced to go on fake dates with the man, I might as well enjoy the view.
I’m only human.
A human who is currently way overworked and way undersexed.
“Sorry about Nadia. Taking in my little sister is not the cake walk I thought it would be.”
I sigh in relief.Sister.Hallelujah.
He reaches into the closet and pulls out a shearling-lined brown jacket. There’s something decadent about the way Stefan moves, confident and borderline hypnotic. My eyes trail down his body, watching the veins in his hands as his long, deft fingers button the jacket.
“Eyes up here, Dr. Thorne,” he coos with a knowing smile.
I like this more playful version of Stefan Dalca. Not the uptight, almost too-smooth version of him everyone sees down at the track.
I decide to roll with it. “Why?”
“Because you might fall in love withmeif you stare for too long.” Even the light lilting of his accent is more pronounced here on the privacy of his farm. Like he’s not trying as hard to project a certain image. He’s comfortable and teasing.
It’s weird. And what’s worse is I live for this type of banter.
I scoff. “Pfft. Don’t worry. You’re not my type.”
He holds one arm out, gesturing me down the front steps of his house up on the hill. The property is not as expansive as Gold Rush Ranch, but it just might be more picturesque. It overlooks a valley with a small lake at the base. The barn is just up the opposite slope and there’s a huge weeping willow tree right beside the gravel road that joins the two buildings. Everything nestled into the valley gives it an effortless cozy feeling that I like.
Our footsteps fall in time on the gravel road as we walk down to the stables.
“And why am I not your type?”
I sneak a peek over at him, hands slung casually in the pockets of his jeans. The way he carries himself—perfect posture and head held high—gives him an almost regal air. If anyone thinks he’s practically royalty, it’s Stefan Dalca. So why he’s hung up on me saying he’s not my type is beyond me.
“Blond hair.” I laugh, watching my breath blow out in a white cloud before me, unwilling to admit that it’s notthatblond, really. In certain light you see the shimmery gold, and I bet as a child it was much lighter. But now it’s this dirty color. Either way, it’s not my usual dark vibe.
He shrugs. “We can dye it.”
I can’t help the big, stupid grin spreading across my face. I feel like I’m living in the twilight zone.What the hell am I doing? Are we being friendly? Are we flirting?
“Okay. Also...you’re arrogant.”
He gives me a sly look out of the corner of his eye, one side of his sinful mouth tipping up into a cocky smirk. “You’ll get used to it.”
I shake my head. “You’re just proving my point.” He doesn’t respond, but I see his body stiffen slightly as we walk past the fresh grave we dug last night. His eyes fixate forward on the barn. “Okay. What about the mafia ties? Everyone says you have mafia ties.”
Small town gossip is vicious, and I’m not sure how or where this rumor started, but people around here spread it like wildfire. Probably the accent, the murky past, and the boatloads of unexplained cash.
As the daughter of an Indian farmer and his white hippie wife, I’m not oblivious to how judgemental rural towns can be. Having to always work harder to fit in or succeed isn’t new to me.
He stops at my question, turning toward me slowly. The energy in the air shifts from laid back to something more ominous. “And what do you think about that?”
Our eyes clash as I assess him. I swear I can see the humor drain out of them right before me. “I think you’re all bark and no bite.”
He huffs out a quiet laugh and starts walking again with a subtle shake of his head. “You are something else, Dr. Thorne.”
I take a few long strides to catch up with him. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
“You should,” he replies with complete sincerity as we approach the Gold Rush Ranch trailer parked in the lot before us. Before I have time to ruminate on that last comment, he continues, “Okay. What do we do now, Doc?”
