Page 42 of Stables

The last thing I see is the dark blue of his taut ass before he’s gone.

I’m not sure what to think. I’ve never had someone treat me like this before.

Figuring out if I’m an inconvenience or some sort of charity work is frustrating.

His touch was so tender, it almost felt like he genuinely cared that I had been hurt. I guess he has empathy under that gruff exterior.

I just wish I knew what his final motives are. It can’t all be just for some past atonement, can it?

Lying here snuggling Paisley, the crazy thought of him wrapping himself around me flickers through.

What would it be like to be so secure against him?

He saved me. Is that why I have this insane urge to cling to him?

To see what kind of monster he barely kept contained in those thin cotton boxer-briefs.

My belly tightens and my breath rushes.

Until my rib twinges, reminding me of how fucking broken I really am.

I’m not fooling anyone. I’m a disaster leading a train of misery.

Dixon would be stupid to get tangled up with me.

But I want so badly to thank him. I’d offer myself, if he’d want damaged goods.

That’s all I am. Used and abused. No, I’ll save myself the embarrassment of his rejection.

I don’t know if I could handle that.

There has to be some other way I can at least show my gratitude.

Cooking? The irony is that all of the real food I have belongs to him.

I can’t afford it, but I’d give him one of my best horses.

Is that all I have?

It keeps me awake until the sun begins to fade in through the curtains.

With the morning light, I can see where the glass is. I think he left already. Guilt pushes me out of bed to tuck pillows around Paisley where she sleeps.

The least I can do is clean up the kitchen before he gets back.

I’m halfway down the hall when I hear soft snoring coming from the living room.

He’s sprawled on the couch with a checkered flannel blanket he must have brought in. Except it’s barely covering his legs.

The blue of his snug underwear is a hard contrast to the pale skin of his thick thighs. His flat abs show more tan than his legs. I bet he worked at his ranch with his shirt off a few times this summer.

Imagining him riding a horse bare chested beneath a blazing sun makes my belly quiver and my thighs clench.

That trail of dark curls that fans from the elastic up to his belly button would sit just above the saddle horn…

Oh my.

I have to stop staring.

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