Page 53 of The Front Runner
He hasn’t been since that first day he asked me out, so I guess I don’t know why he’d start now. He’s been jokingly asking me out every opportunity he’s gotten, and I’ve laughed and brushed him off. It’s a running joke at this point. But it didn’t feel like a joke last weekend. It felt like it could be the start of something with the power to knock me right off my track. Right off my wobbly high heels.
It’s better this way, even if I secretly listen for his footsteps in the barn every day, and my eyes dart up to the house every time I go to leave. I should be happy he’s giving me the space I asked for, but I wish he’d go back to being completely relentless.
I think I might miss him.
Which is why the sound of dress shoes clacking against the barn alleyway sets my heart to racing. It doesn’t sound like work boots or sneakers. It sounds almost like my heels sounded. I both dread and long coming face-to-face with him tonight.
My poker face game is strong, though. I just need to keep myself in a professional frame of mind, and I should be able to handle whatever Stefan Dalca makes me feel.
I set to work on checking Loki over, keeping my back toward the stall door so I don’t have to face him when he gets here. I hear the stall door swing open even though the buds of my stethoscope are in my ears.
He doesn’t say anything. I can feel him standing behind me. I can feel his eyes on my body, searing their way over my bare skin. Having him stare at me uninterrupted is unnerving. His presence is heavy. It presses on my chest and threatens to steal my breath.
And my heart.
I somehow count the heartbeats, even with the tall glass of distraction standing behind me. But when I turn to take him in, my mind goes completely blank. He’s leaning against the frame of the stall door, hands shoved in the pockets of his bespoke midnight blue tuxedo, doing that thing he does where his tongue runs across the inside of his cheek. His hair is slicked back perfectly, totally tidy, not a single strand out of place.
But his eyes are chaos. Brambles in the wind. Darker than their usual bright tone.
“You wore the shoes.”
His voice is deep and sure—authoritative. Something I like about him. I don’t have to be tough and independent around Stefan one hundred percent of the time. He doesn’t think less of me for getting tired of being strong all the time. Last weekend in the rain was proof of that. He kissed me senseless and then still treated me like I was perfectly capable and not in need of excessive coddling.
“How could I not? They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
“At least you’re walking through wood shavings and manure in them and showed up here all on your own. I’m not entirely disappointed. I fully expected you to wear a pair of sneakers just to put me in my place. But I still thought you’d maybe wear them one day.”
One side of his lips tip up suggestively.
“Ah, yes. For all the fancy events this small-town veterinarian attends.”
“Who said anything about an event?” He smirks. And then he winks.Is he implying what I think he’s implying?
Loki chooses this moment to shove past me. With a small nicker he approaches Stefan and snuggles his head in-between his body and his arm and rests there.
“Is he… snuggling you?”
Stefan smiles as he pulls his opposite hand out of his pocket and slides it up and down the young colt’s neck. “Horses are an excellent judge of character, didn’t you know?”
Loki nuzzles in farther. It’s fucking adorable. Especially now that Stefan has confided in me about his horse as a child.
“We’ve become buddies over the last several weeks. Sometimes, I sit out by his paddock with my laptop and work. He’s so innocent, you know? My first foray into breeding wasn’t exactly a success. I just want to soak this up with him while he’s still here.”
I swallow audibly. Stefan is so fucking misunderstood. Anger flares in me over how hard on him my friends are. If they could just see this side of him—the one who comes to my defense and snuggles baby horses—I just know they’d see him in a different light. It would be impossible not to.
He looks up just in time to catch me gawking, his eyes glowing in the most captivating way. “You are beautiful, Mira.”
I glance down at myself, feeling like I could almost purr at his compliment. The way he looks at me makes my pulse beat in my throat. The wine-red slip-like dress does me an awful lot of favors. Slim cut silk, it ends mid-calf and the cowl neckline gives me coverage where I need it—over my boobs, since a bra is a no-go in this dress.
I hold my hands over my stomach to still the lurching sensation. “Thank you. You don’t look so shabby yourself.” Which is to say, he looks fucking edible. Mr. Purple is going to get a hell of a workout tonight. “For a fake date.”
His lips thin, and his jaw pops as he steps back from the stall, opening the door to usher me out. With one last pat for mom and baby, I step through the door into the quiet barn. The staff have now cleared out, leaving just the two of us standing facing each other in the stable.
Stefan’s eyes coast down my body and pause at the floor. “Your buckle is undone.”
I look down at the beautiful new shoes, grateful for the excuse he’s just given me to stare at the ground and catch my breath.
“Oh, thanks,” I breathe out. I definitely should not be breathless over a man who spent the night with another woman after kissing me the way he did.
