“He does seem to push your buttons.”
“I don’t know what the hell he was thinking. This isn’t an emergency.”
“No idea.” Sarah shrugged and took a bite of hash browns. She’d stay out of it.
Bruce dove into his plate. “The potatoes are good.”
“That’s because there’s cheddar and onions in them.”
“Smart-ass.” He forked some eggs, but the side of his mouth twitched. “You realize you just made things worse with Greg, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“The kid has a major crush on you. And now you’re not only pretty, but you can cook.”
Bruce thought she was pretty? Heat flushed through her body. “Well, I’m glad my trick to get him here early worked.”
“Judging by the way he enjoyed the food, he’ll be back tomorrow.”
“And judging by how annoyed you are today at getting up early, I imagine you won’t.” She popped a piece of pancake in her mouth and licked the syrup from the fork. She glanced at Bruce, whose gaze fell to her lips.
He muttered under his breath.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He stabbed at his eggs.
For some reason, she brought out the grumpy in him. He sure didn’t pull any punches asking her questions. Maybe she should ask him some. He still owed her an explanation from when he’d walked out without answering her question in the barn. “You never told me what I do that annoys you. I’d like to know.”
He paused, fork halfway to his mouth, and syrup dripped onto his shirt. “What?”
“Hold on.” That would leave a stain. She dipped the edge of her napkin into her water and leaned over to dab at the spot. Resting a hand on his thigh for balance, she rubbed the napkin against his shirt but lost focus as his firm leg muscles contracted. She glanced down at her fingers on his inner thigh, way too close to other parts of his anatomy she dared not touch, and her mouth went dry.
He shifted in the seat, and God help her, her hand slid farther down his thigh. She pressed the napkin against his chest for balance to avoid slipping closer to…well…that…and raised her head.
Heat radiated from his body, and his rib cage rose as he drew in a breath, bringing her face to within a whisper of touching his. Afraid to move, and lost in the sensations, she clung to the space separating them like a life ring and gazed at him.
He stared back with pure, unmasked desire. When he lowered his head a fraction closer, his breath drifted across her lips.
The front screen door slammed.
With a start, she pushed herself off Bruce and settled back in her chair.
“Best breakfast I ever had. Thanks.” Greg rubbed his belly and strode toward them.
“Good.” She inwardly cringed at the high pitch of her voice. “Come back tomorrow.” She shot a glance at Bruce, who wiped a napkin across his mouth and dropped it in his lap. “Bruce probably won’t make it, and I hate to waste food.”
“More for me if he doesn’t. I don’t like to share you.” Greg’s eyes widened, and he clamped his hands over his mouth. His face turned redder than ripe raspberries. “Food! I meant I don’t like to share food.”
She couldn’t help but smile despite his embarrassment. Poor kid.
“I gotta get to work. Bye.” He stumbled down the steps.
Silence followed, which brought her right back to the still-charged energy in the air, and the larger-than-life man beside her. Bruce drove her crazy. She could swear he’d been about to kiss her. And she’d wanted him to. However, the moment had passed, and he had his mannequin-like mask back on, neutral with no expression.
She avoided eye contact, stood, and picked up her plate. “I better take these inside and clean up.”
Bruce grabbed his dish, and his footsteps sounded behind her as she headed to the door. A breeze blew the soap-fresh scent of his recent shower across the porch.
She stopped and inhaled. Her lungs shouldn’t crave the unique, masculine smell of him, but they did. And her body shouldn’t long to experience what it would be like to kiss a man with such passion for her in his eyes, but it did. With her entire life in chaos, it might be nice to feel something besides fear and panic. The strong need overcame common sense. “You know, Joe was wrong about one thing.”
“What’s that?”
Her heart rapped in a staccato. Keeping her back to him, she spoke before she lost her nerve. “You taking a shower? Not stupid. You smell amazing.”
She pushed through the door to the kitchen.
Thump.
She turned.
Bruce grabbed the edge of the door, his mouth slightly agape. He regained his balance, squared his shoulders, and followed her to the sink.
She bent over and dumped her plate in with the other dirty ones. He came up beside her, and she held her breath. Her brain really needed to take more control of what came out of her mouth. If her face got any hotter, she’d combust. She kept her head down as she reached for his plate. “Thanks.”
When he didn’t let go, she glanced up. He hitched an eyebrow and held her gaze for a long moment before he finally released the dish.
Oh God. She had no clue what to make of that look. It could be a challenge, a question, or amusement.
“Ready to work on the trailer?” Joe scraped his chair against the floor as he stood.
“I’ve been ready. Thanks for breakfast, Sarah.”
She nodded and rinsed the plates. When everyone left, she let out a big sigh. Sooner or later, she’d have to face him alone, and then she’d find out if she’d made a complete fool of herself.
Chapter 10
Morgan grabbed the fat-free hazelnut creamer from her fridge and added some to her coffee. With the phone cradled between her face and shoulder, she talked to Bruce about the arrangements to see another stupid horse together. She’d come up with a fucking brilliant plan to spend time alone with him. Her offer to donate a therapy horse to his program meant they had to travel around to check out the candidates. So far, he hadn’t shown the least bit of interest in her romantically, but that would change. No man had ever resisted her. She’d swear he was gay if he hadn’t been married before.
“When’s a good day for you?” She twirled a lock of hair around her finger.
“I’m booked up all week. How about next Friday afternoon?”
“I’ll check with the owner and get back to you.”
She hung up and smiled. Perfect. The mare wouldn’t work out. Morgan had already seen the horse, as usual. This one had the wrong gait for therapy according to her research. She’d never let him see a horse that could be a good match. That would end the need for them to take trips together.
She’d spend the entire afternoon with Bruce and make sure the twit at the farm knew. Time to douse some water on the sparks between Bruce and Sarah. He lost all focus whenever she came within ten feet of him. Morgan’s hand tightened on the mug. Damned if she’d let that bitch mess up her plans. Sarah could have her sloppy seconds when Morgan was good and done. And she might take her time with him. She’d earned it after suffering through two torturous years of marriage to Larry, a man older than her grandfather. At least he hadn’t lasted a month after she switched his cardiac medication with a placebo.
Her phone rang. A California area code. She frowned at the screen. When she answered, the voice on the other end brought a sour taste to her mouth.
“Morgan? It’s Robert. How are you?”
He had some nerve calling her after nine years. “What the hell do you want?”
“Nice way to say hi to an old friend.”
“You aren’t a friend. Answer my question.” She slammed her coffee mug on the counter.
“Calm down. I have a business proposition.”
“Like what?”
“A job for you. We want to run a new storyline in the soap with you coming back as a ghost. The writers think they can make use of a bitter older woman, you know, run a spin on—”
“Are y
ou fucking serious?” She dug her manicured nails into her palms. “You kill me off on the show, replace me with a teenage bimbo, and think I’m going to come back and play the part of a shriveled old bitch? Kiss my ass.”
“I know you, Morgan. Don’t tell me that little shampoo commercial gig is supporting your extravagant lifestyle.”
“Guess what? I might have fucked you to get a spot on the show, but you’re not going to fuck me. I don’t need you or your sappy, grade-B hack show. Don’t call here again.” She hung up and paced the room. Nothing could get her to play an old woman. Screw them. She had enough money to buy the rights to the whole damn show and fire everyone, including Robert, that dick. She shook her head and huffed out a breath. Right now, she had bigger fish to fry.
She drummed her fingers on the counter. Sarah stood in her way. Every guy at the farm had a fucking hard-on for the bitch. Greg kept trying to impress her, and Bruce couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Time to find out more about Sarah and use it against her. The girl spooked easier than the Arabian horses. Oh, she had secrets all right. But Morgan had her own secrets. She’d plotted too long and worked too hard. She wouldn’t let Sarah get in her way.
No one would derail her plans to seduce Bruce.
Chapter 11
Leaning against the arena fence by the parking lot, Bruce glanced at Sarah when she came out of the barn. She had dodged him all week. Every time he came near, she found a task to pull her away. He hadn’t wanted to make her more uncomfortable, so he’d given her space. Figured she probably had blurted out the comment about him smelling good and regretted it. No sense putting her on the spot.
And for that matter, he’d just as soon forget about having to toss a napkin in his lap to hide his hard-on after he’d come within an inch of kissing her. One second they’d been talking about Joe, and the next her hands were on his leg and chest. With maple syrup on her breath, and her sensual lips so close, he’d lost it. Almost took a taste. Thank God Greg had come out and broken up the party.
Sarah had interrupted a long string of Navy-worthy curses running through his head when she’d shot that remark over her shoulder. It came out of nowhere, and with Debbie and Joe in the kitchen, Bruce couldn’t talk to her. Not that he’d needed to. Her bright pink cheeks and still-dilated pupils said it all. The question was what to do about it.
Sarah stopped short and shielded her eyes. Must have seen him. She pivoted, took a step back toward the stables, and stopped again. Her shoulders squared, and she swung back around. She tucked a strand of hair back and strode toward him.
Might be best to clear the air since they had to work around each other. Her dance of avoidance had gone on long enough. He should apologize, but technically, he hadn’t done anything, and it might make her even more uncomfortable.
Damn the way her hips swayed and her pink T-shirt hugged her breasts.
She stopped a couple of feet in front of him and cleared her throat. “Hi. I…uh…haven’t had a chance to talk to you much this week.”
He nodded. “Seems like you’ve been pretty busy.”
“Yeah, well, you know. There’s a lot to do, and I’m still learning the ropes.” She shifted her feet and glanced down.
A blush colored her cheeks. The scent of her fruity shampoo caught in the breeze, and his jeans grew tighter. Christ, he had to stop this shit. They both had work to do, and he wasn’t some eighteen-year-old with a puppy-love crush on her like Greg. “Look, I think we need—”
“I wanted to—”
Bruce held up a hand. “Sorry. You go first.”
“Oh, that’s okay.” She touched his arm and then drew her hand back like it burned. “What did you want to say?”
Not a chance in hell. She had something on her mind and he’d find out what. “Ladies first.”
She caught her lower lip between her teeth.
Heat shot to his groin. He forced his gaze from her mouth to her eyes.
“About the other—”
Morgan’s convertible raced into the lot, top down.
Shit. Bad timing. Sarah would never talk in front of Morgan. Those two mixed like gunpowder and matches.
Morgan hopped out of the driver’s seat and tossed the keys across the car to him. He caught them one-handed. She gave Sarah a cursory nod as she sauntered to the passenger side, lifted a picnic basket off the seat, and set it in the back.
“Ready?” Morgan flashed him a smile and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Just a second.” He stepped away from her toward Sarah. He had to at least try to find out. “What were you about to say?”
Sarah’s gaze flitted to the picnic basket. She rubbed the back of her neck. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter. Don’t let me hold you up.”
Morgan opened the passenger door and slid in. “We should go if we want to be on time.”
Bruce frowned.
A truck with a horse trailer pulled into the lot. Todd sat behind the wheel. He slowed and stared at Sarah as he passed.
She swallowed hard but didn’t look away from him.
Bruce itched to yank the asshole from his truck and tell him a thing or two about gawking at women. “We might need to reschedule, Morgan.”
“Why?”
Debbie came out of the stables with Greg. They headed to Todd’s trailer.
Morgan shifted in the seat. “I know another person is interested in this horse. I’d hate to miss the chance to see her.”
Damn it to hell. Morgan had set this all up, and he owed it to her and the horse owner to follow through. He glanced at Greg and Debbie as they helped unload Todd’s horse. Sarah should be safe with them around.
“I need to get back to work. See you later.” Sarah spun on her heel and strode toward the stables.
“So we’re good to go?” Morgan asked.
Bruce kept his gaze on Sarah until she disappeared into the barn. He lowered himself into the driver’s seat. “Yeah.”
As he drove, he couldn’t get past Todd leering at Sarah. He showed up at the farm dressed like a model for an equestrian outfitters magazine and acted like everyone should wait on him. Bruce knew guys like him. Rich brats who did what they wanted and paid their way out of trouble. He fought the urge to turn the car around.
“Is something wrong?” Morgan asked.
“What?” Bruce glanced in her direction.
“Nothing.” She waved a hand. “Princess nearly beat Batal the last time we were out.”
“Yeah. She really gave him a run for the money.”
“They’re beautiful together, don’t you think?”
“Uh-huh.” Bruce ground his teeth. He’d seen a flicker of fear in Sarah’s eyes before she’d covered it up. Todd clearly unnerved her.
“I think these ex-racehorses miss the competition. As soon as they get next to each other, their instincts click in. Sometimes it’s like that with people too. You know?”
Despite Morgan trying to have a conversation, Bruce couldn’t get the farm out of his head. He hadn’t seen Joe around. Greg would try to help if Sarah got into trouble, but the gangly guy didn’t pose much of a threat.
Morgan rattled off something else and then tapped his arm.
“Sorry, what?” Bruce blinked.
“I didn’t want you to miss the entrance. Right up there.” She pointed.
He pulled into the farm and parked. “Give me a second. I need to make a call.”
“Okay. I’ll go talk to the seller.” Morgan opened the door and got out.
Bruce dialed Joe.
“What’s up, Bruce?”
“Are you at the farm?”
“Yeah, why?”
The tension in his neck eased. “Just checking. Everything okay there?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”
“No reason. I gotta go. Thanks.” He hung up and shook his head. Sarah made him act like an overprotective idiot. Joe had to wonder why he’d called. But knowing Joe, he wouldn’t press the issue.
Bruce found Morgan an
d the man selling the horse, who introduced himself and showed them the mare. She had the right temperament for therapy but not the right gait. Too bad she wouldn’t work out. Bruce thanked the seller for his time and explained why she wasn’t a good fit.
On the way back to her car, Morgan hung her head. “I’m so sorry. I thought this might be the one.”
“No problem. It’s hard to know exactly what type works for therapy. I’m sorry you wasted your day.”
She lifted her head and waved her hands. “Hey. It’s gorgeous. We had a nice drive and saw a horse. What’s better than that?”
“All true.” He opened the car door for her.
“Oh, I almost forgot. I packed some snacks in case we wanted to stop by the lake. Do you have time?”
He needed to talk to Sarah and clear the air. “I’m sorry, but I have to get back.”
“Okay. Maybe another time.” She flipped on the radio.
When Bruce pulled into the arena lot, Morgan glanced around. “Where’s your pickup?”
“At the house.” He drove up and parked next to Sarah’s Honda on the side. No sign of the farm truck. Maybe she had taken it into town.
“Hey, there’s something I wanted to ask you.” Morgan shifted in her seat.
“What?” He shut off the engine.
“Well, Sunday’s gonna kind of be a tough day for me.” She fingered the hem of her shirt. “It’s the anniversary of my husband’s death.”
Never easy to get through those. “I’m sorry.”
She sniffled and nodded. “I was wondering if maybe we could ride. It takes my mind off things.”
He had a packed week, but he’d find time. Connecting with a horse sometimes chased the grief away for a short while, as he could attest. He pulled out his phone and checked his calendar. “Does noon work?”
“Sure.” She gave him a sad smile. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Bruce got out and went up the steps to the house. When he entered, the scent of chicken filled the kitchen, and his mouth watered. A large crockpot sat on the counter with a note posted in front of it. Went shopping. Help yourself. There’s bread in the basket. A hand-drawn arrow pointed to it right next to the pot. He snorted.
Love in Hiding Page 8
