by Nikky Kaye
“Max?” She paled underneath the remnants of her summer tan, her eyes widening. “Max?”
He stretched out an arm in what he hoped was a gallant gesture and attempted a bow from his seat on Pansy. “My lady.”
She gaped at him. “What on earth are you doing?”
Pansy rocked to the left and Max jerked on the reins. “Whoa. Wooing you,” he called. “Or trying, at least.”
“Have you completely lost your mind?”
Max gave up trying to convince Pansy that the front lawn was not a grazing pasture and loosened his grip on the reins. She grunted her thanks, heading for the hydrangea bushes at the side of the building.
“Max?”
He tilted his head back. “Yes, I’ve completely lost my mind. I’m head over heels in love with you. Now are you coming out here or not?”
* * *
Sophy’s jaw went slack and she closed her eyes briefly. Head over heels in love? He was insane. She jerked her head out of the window and dropped to a cross-legged position on the carpet.
“Sophy!” Max’s tone was forceful with an underlying note of panic. She wondered if perhaps the overweight horse had thrown him. Lucky horse, she thought. “Did you hear me?” he shouted. “I said I love you!”
She yelled in the direction of the open window, “The whole neighborhood heard you, Max!”
Sighing, she rose to her feet and headed for the door. That man.
He was still frowning at her window when she sidled up to him. The horse raised her head in curiosity, then turned its attention to the closest window box.
He swore under his breath, then jumped as she touched his leg. His head jerked down and he saw her. His expression softened as he smiled down at her.
“What are you doing to that poor horse, Max?”
He snorted and waved a hand at the beheaded geraniums. “That poor horse has stripped every shrub in the last two blocks. It looks like winter’s already here!”
Sophy stroked the horse’s warm flank gently. “What’s his name? Midnight? Mephistopheles?”
“Her name is Pansy.”
Sophy stifled her laughter. “What do you want, Max?” She tried to make her voice sound strong and disapproving, but it wavered.
“You,” he said simply. “Passion. True love.”
“You don’t believe in true love,” she reminded him.
His eyes darkened as he gazed down at her. “I don’t know what I believe anymore. And I’m starting to get that it’s pretty common where I work. But I do know that I love the way you remind me to tip my soup bowl away from me and my salad bowl towards me when I eat. And the way you actually get disappointed when you don’t win the lottery. And the taste of your skin.”
Sophy’s face burned as she stared at the nearly defoliated hydrangea bush.
Max continued, “I love the way you make me feel ten feet tall when you look at me. And I love your stubborn belief in the sanctity of marriage. And the way you yell at other drivers on the highway who can’t possibly hear you. And the talent you have for creating ridiculous situations.”
He pulled a limp piece of cream-colored silk from around his neck and handed it to her.
“And the way,” he added softly, “my heart breaks when you cry.”
She took the cravat and scrubbed her cheeks with it. “You have lost your mind,” she whispered brokenly, salty tears pooling in the corners of her mouth. But she was very afraid she had as well. “Is this one of those ridiculous situations you were talking about?”
Max rolled his eyes disdainfully towards the horse. “What do you think?”
She sniffed, her response slow in coming. “I think... that you must love me, if you’re willing to make a fool out of yourself like this.”
This was the man she fell in love with, not the mythical earl. This man who, deep down, was willing to take chances and fall flat on his face; who made her laugh and made her crazy with anticipation.
The corners of his mouth turned down and he let out an exaggerated sigh. “And here I thought I was being heroic.”
Sophy’s gaze wandered up his leg. “Oh, I don’t know. From this angle you look very heroic.”
He leered at her. “Come up here and say that.”
“Later. You still have some groveling to do, Dr. Wright. What you did at that wedding was appalling. Unforgivable.”
“Mr. Right.” He grinned. “And you started it.”
“I know.”
“I already apologized to the bride and groom, their respective irate parents and the priest. But I think we’ll still have to find somewhere else to get married.”
“I was banned from that church for that little shoe-throwing incident.” She decided not to mention that the owner of the traumatized doves was thinking about suing her as well. His words slowly filtered into her brain and she stopped dead. “What did you say?”
Max jerked on the reins as his mount finished eating her second planter. “Maybe the university chapel? I think it’s non-denominational,” he added.
Her heart jerked in her chest, then finally started thumping again. “Married?” she squeaked.
He frowned at her. “Sure. Isn’t that the way it always ends in your books?”
“Max, you’re doing it again.”
“What?”
“Being arrogant and presumptuous. I haven’t said I’ll marry you. I haven’t even said I love you!”
She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to find it in herself to be angry with him and failing miserably. Hell, she couldn’t even work up a decent scowl right now.
The breath whooshed out of her chest as he reached down awkwardly and hauled her up on the saddle facing him. He had a surprisingly strong upper body for a professor.
He looked her straight in the eye with strength and promise.
“Do you love me?”
Pansy lurched to the left, unused to two people atop her at once.
Max’s arms reached around Sophy to tug on the reins and mutter a soft threat to the horse, then whispered close to her ear, “Do you love me?”
She shivered at his closeness but he did not move away. His warmth and the mingled odors of starched linen and horse pellets surrounded her.
“I am passionate about you,” she said slowly, raising an eyebrow.
Heat crawled up her cheeks as he muttered something about passion in her ear.
“I... uh... lust after you, I think.”
Her eyes widened as he whispered his academic opinion of lust. She was through teasing him.
“I suppose I love you,” she sighed dramatically and he pulled back to look in her eyes.
“Damn straight you do.”
His fingers curled around the reins, he rested his hands on Sophy’s spread thighs.
“I love you,” he said quietly.
“I love you too.” Her arms snaked around his waist as he leaned forward in the saddle.
“And hey,” she murmured against his lips, “if it doesn’t work out, I know a really good marriage counselor.”
THE END
About the Author
Nikky Kaye would love to go skydiving naked. The woman behind Nikky Kaye would like to spend an evening in bed reading her Kindle and eating M&Ms. Imagination is important for a writer. She also publishes non-fiction under NJS Kaye, which is almost entirely not made up.
Want to hear about Nikky’s next book?
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