Page 38 of Rope Me In

“That,” he says, handing the pen back to me, “is the weirdest shit I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

I huff a tense laugh, wanting to shake the feelings coursing through my body. “Something tells me you’ve had weirder.”

He quirks one dark-blond eyebrow at me. “What do you think I’ve had in my mouth, Lemon?”

“I don’t know. Rocky Mountain oysters?”

Kade barks a laugh that vibrates down to my toes. “See, I knew you were funny. I told Jake you were just hiding your personality from us.”

His comment makes me anxious, and that flip in my stomach turns to rocks tumbling around. I suppose it’s not hard for the people around me to notice that I haven’t exactly been forthcoming about myself. I’ve done that intentionally. But even with that, I’m not the type of person who shares or relaxes until I feel comfortable. And nothing about my spontaneous move to Randall is comfortable. Nothing about my life right now is.

I bring the pen to my lips and inhale to tamp down some of the anxiety. Kade goes silent as he watches me take a drag of my “hippie pen.” Gooseflesh breaks out over my arms as I observe the way he licks his lips, his gaze trained on my mouth as I inhale. Maybe it’s his comment that makes me do it, but I hollow my cheeks a little more than necessary. When I exhale the minty cloud, I put the pen back into my pocket and face Kade.

“Does it work?” he asks, making me blink. I would’ve thought something sexual would come out of his mouth after my blatant tease.

“What do you mean?”

“Did it actually help you quit smoking?”

More surprise fills me, and I don’t answer right away. Instead, I try to figure him out. Everything about the question—the way he said it, the curiosity in his hazel eyes—tells me he genuinely wants to know the answer. Which I find curious.

“It helped, but it was a process,” I say truthfully. “I did the patches and even tried hypnotherapy, but I still needed something to do with my hands, and the inhaler helped. Probably still bad for my lungs, but I don’t use it that much anymore unless I get too—I mean, at least it’s not nicotine, right?”

“Unless you get too what?” he digs.

I should’ve known he’d never let me get away with that. “It helps me with my anxiety attacks.” I tell the truth because—well, honestly, I don’t know why. But he seems to really want to know. And maybe I told him because this is the first serious question he’s asked me all morning.

Kade stares at me thoughtfully, his usual grin a pensive line and shoulders relaxed. It’s a far cry from flirty Kade, and the intensity of him has me wanting to know what he’s thinking.

“Kade?” I ask after another moment of him staring. He blinks, and I watch his body go from relaxed to tense. Was I too honest?

But before I can think much on it, he cracks one of his dimpled smiles and points behind me. “You missed a spot, Lemon.”

Right. I guess serious Kade is gone now. With an internal sigh, I turn to the spot and see there’s nothing there.Fucking Kade.

His laughter sounds behind me, and I don’t satisfy him by looking back. Instead, I try to ignore my hungry stomach and the sweat now trickling down my back then get to sifting.

Chapter 13

Kade

This morning hasn’t beenhalf bad. So far, Presley has proved me wrong, impressing me with her gumption. I would’ve thought she’d give up by now. I knew she could work, but this kind of work is different—not everyone can handle it. I’ve seen grown men complain and give up after a week, especially when they get a whiff of the pig pen. But Presley hasn’t quit, hasn’t complained once. Sure, she’s rolled her eyes at me, but that’s because I’m annoying her.

At first, it started off as a way to have a little fun after last night’s “talk” with Gavin and a way to loosen her up a bit—she’s been so quiet and uptight. I’d say she even rivals Gavin in that department. But despite that, I’m learning that I like Presley. She may be sour, but once I got through that first layer, I found she’s more interesting than anyone I’ve met in recent years.

That makes me hate that she found me hungover and passed out on the couch this morning even more. I didn’t plan for her to see me like that, sprawled out in my day-old clothes and boots, but I drank a bit too much with Jake. Not a bit too much. A lot too much. I honestly don’t remember much about last night besides asking Jake to drop me off at the hands’ quarters rather than the main house so I could avoid my family. The woman must sleep like the dead, because I don’t think I was very quiet when I stumbled in after two in the morning.

Speak of the devil, or should I say Lemon, Presley stops shoveling dirt and wipes a bit of sweat from her forehead withthe collar of her T-shirt. The action lifts the hem of the fabric just enough that a small sliver of skin peeks out.

We’ve moved on to clearing some debris from the construction of an indoor/outdoor lounge area behind the barns, a place Blake wanted to build for guests to sit, watch the horses graze, and have bonfires. It’ll be a great spot to get out of the sun.

Presley wipes more sweat away with her shirt, and I bite the inside of my cheek when I see the skin of her stomach again. I wonder if it’s as soft as it looks. When she notices where my eyes are trained, she tugs at the hem so she’s covered again. Her cheeks turn red, redder than they are from the heat and physical strain, and she shoots me a sour look.

“Do you always stare at people for prolonged periods of time?” she asks, leaning on her shovel. Her words are funny considering I’ve caught her staring plenty of times. Just this morning, I could feel her eyes on me while we mucked stalls.

“Do you?”

She purses her lips together as another bead of sweat rolls down her forehead. I watch it travel down the side of her face and over the smooth column of her neck before falling against her shirt. I’d like to say that my thoughts don’t go to the gutter, but they do. Hell, who am I kidding? They’ve been in the gutter since the moment I met her. And now, working with her all morning, hearing her soft grunts and moans while she’s exerting herself, has only made the images I’ve been dreaming up of her more vivid.

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