Page 30 of Second Chance with the Rancher

Asher shook his head. “Not sure. That doesn’t usually happen until weaning if it’s going to. He might just not be drinking enough. I’ll give Jacob a call now and see if he can pop by in the morning.”

Nate nodded as Asher ascended the stairs, pulling his cell phone out of his back pocket as he disappeared.

“You should get some sleep, Minx,” Nate said, setting her laptop on the coffee table and standing up to stretch. “You’ll be sore tomorrow after sitting in that saddle for so long.”

“We’ll see,” she said cheekily. “I was a dancer not too long ago. With a rigorous practice and show schedule. Not to mention I got up and ran on the treadmill in the gym everyday. I’m sure a little sitting won’t make me stiff.”

His mouth curled into a smirk. “We’ll see about that.” He headed to the entryway while she grabbed her laptop, then followed him. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to go check on Chance and Callie.”

Fear shot through her. “But Asher didn’t seem too concerned. He was just out there.”

He shrugged. “And he’s probably right. But I’m going to go double-check. No harm.”

She opened her mouth, about to ask him if he wanted company, but thought better of it and pinched her lips shut, choosing to just follow him to the foyer and watch him slide into his work boots. Why did even that action make the butterflies in her belly go berserk?

Because he’s big, sexy and the way the flannel shirt stretches across his broad shoulders as he leans down and tugs on his boots is hot.

Standing back up, he shot her another panty-shredding grin. “See you in the morning, Minx.” The wink he gave her had those butterflies swooning, and the horny hornets in her belly flying around like they were drunk. Then he was out the door.

Mieka stood there and stared at the closed door for an inordinately long time. Too long, but she was simply stuck in place, her brain, heart, and vagina at war. Leaving her feet full of concrete and unable to function.

Her brain told her that she should go to bed. Her heart told her to go check on the horses, too. And her vagina told her to climb up on the cowboy and ride him off into the sunset.

Her vagina didn’t know that Nate wasn’t a cowboy, but rather a rancher and that the sun had already set. Her vagina was an idiot.

People joked about men having a one-track mind and thinking with their “little head.” Well, women had the same problem. Her “big head” was struggling to keep up in the argument, while her vagina, or her “little head?” … “little tunnel?” … “love tunnel?” GAG! No! Not “love tunnel” … she’d have to workshop it. Either way, her brain was losing while her vagina’s argument was gaining momentum.

Clenching her fingers at her sides until her nails dug trenches into her palm, she let the pain snap her out of her horny stupor and she shook her head. “Argh!” she growled, spinning on her heel and stalking off down the hall to her bedroom.

Why did Nate have to be so freaking charming? Why did he have to be single, sexy, smart, handsome and a plethora of other appealing qualities that Mieka hadn’t found in a partner in years? Why did the air have to smell so fresh here? Why did all the horses have to be so sweet?

This wasn’t fair.

Life isn’t fair, sweetheart.

With another growl, she undressed—albeit not with the vigor she started out with given her cast—then she put on the cast cover, wrapped a big fleecy towel around her body, and ducked across the hall to the bathroom.

She probably spent too long in the shower, given how the water was turning cool by the time she got out, but masturbating when you only had one good hand and the pipes squealed like a tortured pig wasn’t the easiest or quickest of tasks.

But it was necessary.

She needed to clear her head and rid that sexual tension inside of her that was strung tighter than a bow string.

As much as she wanted to jump Nate’s bones and have a good old-fashioned roll in the hay, she knew it was a bad idea. A terrible idea, no matter how much Nate and now Triss supported the notion.

She was back in her room and dressed in a black tank top and flannel pajama pants, keeping her ears peeled for the open and close of the front door.

But she heard nothing.

Did he already come back inside while she was in the shower?

Probably.

Curiosity niggled at the nape of her neck like an irritating mosquito, so she flung open her bedroom door and quietly padded down the hallway to check to see if Nate’s boots were in the entryway.

They weren’t.

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