Page 40 of Riding the High

This fucking woman.

“Mmmhmmm. Makes total sense.”

I don’t buy one ounce of the bullshit she’s peddling. And the way she’s looking at me tells me she’s just as confused as I am about the way we are with each another. The way we’ve always been.

“We are the wild cards out of all of them. If nothing else, they probably wouldn’t be surprised if they did find out what we did,” she says, abruptly changing the subject.

“For once, I wish I wasn’t the impulsive one that slept around,” I say. “Or the one that already failed at one shotgun marriage. For once, it would be nice not to be the rogue Ashby sibling.” I sigh as Ginger swallows the last of her bourbon.

“Hell, I hear that. At least we can be wild cards and PICs together.” She grins and stands to go. “Okay, Sheriff, we’ll arrange a dinner this week to tell your family the plan for this summer. I’ve done my obligatory once-a-month dinner with my mom and dad already, so my way of letting my family know will be a text.”

“I’ll tell Mabel in the morning. She should be the first to know.”

“Oh, and I have one more rule …” Ginger looks at me, placing a hand on her hip.

“That is?” I ask.

“I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye …” she starts. “But when it comes to Mabel, don’t pick at everything I do, and don’t undermine me. If you have a problem with how I care for her, talk to me in private. And for the love of GOD, Cole, let us have fun. I teach kids for a living so I sorta have some expertise in this department.”

I sigh. “I promise I will do my best.”

Ginger nods. “Oooh, I’ve got it. You can have a safe word. A veto if you really don’t like what I’m doing.”

The thoughts that run through my mind as I imagine another scenario where we would have a safe word, are as vivid as the memory of my cock sliding into her tight pussy. I let out a low laugh.

“What?” she queries.

I don’t say anything, and instead, just shake my head.

“Get your head out of the gutter, roomie. I’ll expect your safe word by tomorrow.”

She winks at me before sauntering toward the front door. I don’t take my eyes off of her as she goes, even as she bends over to place her purse into the backseat of her white VW Bug.

Eighty-three days. With no sex. Holed up in my house withthatass?

I run a hand through my hair and take a breath. Something tells me I’m going to need to brace myself to live with the sexual storm that is Ginger Lily Danforth Ashby.

My wife.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Cole

81 days to go

“You two are shacking up together? But you’re not knocking boots?” Papa Dean asks two days later. He’s talking in a low tone so Mabel won’t catch the conversation as we sit in the backyard of the big house. “And we’re supposed to believe that?”

His bushy white eyebrows rise up to signal that, no matter what I say, he’s going to think I’m full of shit.

“Jesus, Pop,” I choke out, scrubbing my face. “Can’t there be a time in this family where we don’t say exactly what we’re thinking? And no, we’re not. Purely platonic.”

The rest of my family waits for someone else to speak while Pop’s stare cuts through me. I turn away from him and look out to the massive red barn in the distance decorated with our ranch logo. It’s where we store a lot of equipment. Two ranch hands are hosing off a tractor’s wheels. I’m not interested in what they’re doing but I’m set on watching them to avoid Pop’s gaze. Ginger looks at me and shrugs. I notice the lilac bush behind her. It’s a stunning backdrop for her deep brown curls.

Fucking hell, am I turning into Nash?

“I need some extra cash this summer, and Cole needs help,”she says, breaking my stare and grinning mischievously. “I’m his last resort. Turns out he’s got a little too much history with every other woman in town.”

She just can’t help herself.

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