Page 55 of The Inquirer

I wasn’t under any illusions that last night’s encounter had obliterated all the negatives, and it’d be smooth sailing from here on out, but it had brought us closer together, and not just in a physical sense. Connecting on an emotional level was important, but Nyx needed to see that what we had between us wasn’t limited to her coming to me when she was upset and me providing her with a physical distraction. I was determined to make this work, and after last night, I had hope that Nyx was too.

She made a sound and rolled over onto her stomach. I let her go, not wanting to scare her by holding on tight, even though that’s what I wanted to do. The sheet slipped down to just above her ass, giving me a view of her entire tattoo, and I took advantage of the moment to really study the work.

Kaimi was a true artist. That much was obvious, even to me, and I’d never been anything close to an art connoisseur. No one in my family was. Every piece of art in my family’s home had been selected by the most expensive interior designer in Savannah. She’d given my parents information on each piece, letting them sound as if they had worked with her on finding every item. Since I’d never seen Ashley show an interest in art, I assumed she’d done the same thing.

As my eyes traced the lines up her back, my hands itched to follow. Hell, my tongue wanted to join the parade, but Nyx was sleeping, and no matter how appealing the idea of waking her up with something sensual, I wouldn’t do it. We didn’t know each other well enough for me to make assumptions about what was okay or not okay to do when she didn’t have the ability to use a safe word.

While that option of waking her wasn’t an option right now, there was something else I could do for her. Something that I hoped would make her feel like this morning could become a normal occurrence.

Breakfast.

I carefully got out of bed, not wanting to disturb her, and headed to the kitchen. I was no chef, but I could handle scrambled eggs and bacon. I worked on autopilot, keeping one ear out for Nyx even as I reminded myself not to overwhelm her. Our conversation last night had gone well, but it had shown that she needed me not to push.

“That smells good.”

I looked over my shoulder and was struck with an almost painfully intense bolt of lust that made me wish I was wearing something a little more substantial than just the boxer-briefs I’d slept in. They didn’t do anything to hide how I got immediately and completely hard at the sight of her in one of my t-shirts. It had less to do with those long, bare legs of hers and more to do with the sudden possessiveness I felt at seeing her wearing something of mine.

“Thanks.” I turned back to the stove on the pretense of needing to stir the eggs. “Grab a plate.”

“How about I get two?” She didn’t quite pull off completely casual with the question, but I went with it.

“That’d be great. Thanks.”

As I split the eggs between the two plates, I had a flash of what my future could possibly look like, waking up next to Nyx, having breakfast with her, starting our day with the same routine.

“Have you been up long?” She broke the silence as she put her plate on the table.

“Just enough to get the food and coffee ready.”

“How do you take yours?” she asked as she walked over to the pot.

I would’ve told her that I’d get it for both of us, but I had a feeling that she wouldn’t be comfortable just sitting and waiting. Besides, I was still trying to get my rebellious dick under control.

“Just a splash of the creamer in the fridge.”

“The big, tough cowboy doesn’t drink it black?”

I grinned at the teasing tone, a different warmth settling in my stomach. I liked the idea of this easy banter with her.

“Cowboys are more out West than in the South,” I informed her. “Besides, we don’t have cows on the ranch.”

“Then what are you?” she asked, carrying two mugs of coffee over to the table. “A horseboy?”

I laughed. “You make a fair point.” I sat down across from her. “I suppose ranch hand would be the most accurate job title.”

As we ate, our conversation stayed on my work, but I didn’t mind. When we were finished, I planned on showing Nyx what I’d discovered before she’d come over yesterday. I intended to use it in my film, but if it could help the Huxleys and Nyx’s clients, I wanted them to have it too.

“I have to know.” Nyx stabbed a section of egg with her fork. “How did a rich politician’s son on track to be a documentary filmmaker learn how to give riding lessons?”

I was impressed by the question and let it be heard in my words. “Most people just want to know how I ended working here, not how I was qualified to do the work.”

She shrugged, a pleased smile curving her lips at the compliment. “It just seems like a weird thing for you to know how to do.”

“After I found out about my dad and my ex, I needed to get out of Savannah,” I broke off a piece of bacon but didn’t lift it to my mouth, “so I went to Statesboro to stay with a cousin of mine, Perenelle. She volunteers at a stable that teaches special needs kids how to ride. That’s where I learned the basics. When Brew hired me, he said I had a natural talent with horses, so he taught me the rest of what I needed to know.”

“Brew and Shadae are great people,” she said, nothing but sincerity in her voice.

“Some of the best I’ve ever known,” I agreed.

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