Page 49 of Dark Horse

“Hold on.” I hold up my hand as I put my boots back on. I duck around the corner and grab one of the beers out of the cooler that sits on the deck, thankful when it’s a twist top because I don’t have a bottle opener, and we don’t have time to waste. When I round back to the other side of the house, he’s already standing, and I toss the beer at him. It splatters across his shirt and pants in wild fashion, creating a Pollock-like stain down his front and making him reek of hops.

“Fuck me!” He shakes his hand and looks up at me like I’ve lost my mind for a moment before he recognizes my plan for what it is. “Smart ass.”

“So you keep saying.” I grin at him. “Just blame it on me. Tell them I was clumsy when we were both trying to get in the door. My hands were full, I wouldn’t take help, and you got the short end of the stick.”

“You’re too clever for your own good sometimes.” His lashes lift, and he studies me like he’s amused. But there’s something else there too, something I can’t quite read in the way he takes me in now.

“Only when required.”

“I know,” he answers without missing a beat, smiling at me. “All right. Let’s make a commotion on the way back in. It won’t be hard for any of them to believe you dropped beer on me.”

EIGHTEEN

DAKOTA

When I stumbleinto the kitchen in the morning, the pale light of the sun is just streaming in and casting long shadows. So long, in fact, that I miss the man sitting at the kitchen counter before it’s too late. Hayden.

“Morning, sunshine.” He grins at me.

“Morning,” I say softly, edging my way around the counter. This time of day might as well be the dead of night for how often I see it. But I couldn’t sleep. Not after last night with Grant. I just keep replaying it over and over in my head. So it’s coffee and an early call time this morning. I might be able to whip up something for everyone for breakfast.

I wince as the sunlight hits my eyes. Or maybe just some freshly squeezed orange juice. We’ll start small and see if Hazelmade any plans with Kit, the inn’s chef, for breakfast. I need coffee first if I’m going to be functional though.

“I got the espresso fired up if you want one.” He nods toward the fancy machine Hazel has tucked away on one side of the kitchen.

“I wouldn’t even know where to start. I leave the fancy stuff to my friend at her shop when I want it.”

“Let me make you one then. You look like you need it.” His eyes drift over me with concern but his smile doesn’t fade.

“Ouch.” I laugh, but I nod when he picks a big mug off the shelf and holds it up for me.

“Rough night?” he asks as he starts his ministrations on the machine.

“You could call it that. What are you doing up so early?” I raise my brow as I watch him move so deftly you’d think he worked part-time as a barista when he wasn’t playing football.

“Stayed up with the guys playing a couple of rounds of poker. Had more drinks than I’m used to, especially at this altitude. So after about a gallon of water, I decided to have a little Irish hangover cure.” He taps the bottle of Irish cream on the counter.

“Ah. Sensible.” I nod as I pull out the oranges and a knife so I can start slicing them open.

“Do you want some in yours?”

“I think I’m okay. Just some juice and coffee, a little toast. I’ll be good as new.” I offer up a small smile, and he studies me.

“So this…” His fingers slip gently over the side of my neck. “Was obtained while you were sober?”

Panic wells in my gut, and I turn toward the glass where I can see my reflection. It’s not as clear as a mirror, but I don’t need it to be because the bruise is a bright purple. I instinctively cover it with my hand, and I feel the heat flush all the way down to my chest. Grant haunts me that way nomatter where I am. His eyes follow the trail of bright red, and he smirks.

“Now IknowI wasn’t drunk enough to give you that and forget.” His brow quirks up, and his eyes slip over me in question.

“I…” I stop no sooner than I start, staring at the floor.

I don’t even know how to explain it. My fingers drift over it again, and I feel the echo of Grant’s lips on my skin. When I look up, I expect judgment and an accusation in Hayden’s eyes, but he’s just grinning as he takes another sip of his coffee.

“You?” His other brow joins the first as he tilts his head to the side in patient expectation.

“It’s complicated.”

“Ah. I know complicated.” He takes another slow draw off the drink and then looks up at me again. “Let me guess, he saw me with my hands all over you yesterday and didn’t like that very much.”

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