Page 36 of Peaches

I think of the way the gorgeous farrier-in-training looked at him, the way it felt like sheknowshim in ways that I don’t, and I can’t help the question from spilling out of my traitorous mouth. “Do you sleep with the staff around here often?”

Rhett’s eyes widen in utter surprise, his mouth parting and rounding like he wants to rebuke my words. But then his lips press together and his eyes shine with a new wave of curiosity. “Are youjealous, peaches?”

“No.” I shake my head dumbly, like a petulant child.

But then my mind spins, picturing him meeting her later. Giving her the kind ofdatethat I suddenly want to beg for.

He grins as he shifts to lean a shoulder against the stall wall. Champ’s long face pokes over the gate, nose ruffling Rhett’s waves beneath his hat.

“No,” I say again. Firmer.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he orders. Calmly. Like he’s requesting my middle name.

My own stubborn hackles rise to meet his and I decide to push back. “I was considering whether I’d made a mistake.”

“A mistake?”

“In keeping sex off the table.”

Satisfaction swells at the way Rhett’s jaw sinks toward the ground, a fumbled “Jesus” leaving his gaping mouth.

“You wanted to help me, right?”

And there it is: his hunger. The storm of it engulfing the gray of his irises. “Olivia.”

“So I was thinking,” I continue, “that maybe you could.”

His eyes are dark with intent, focused on my lips. “Help you with what?” he asks, urgent, his voice husky and shapeless in the way it moves through my skin and bones.

“Maybe you could teach me,” I whisper, not quite sure of myself or this thing ricocheting between us.

He hangs his head, eyes squeezing shut. I’ve unarmed him. Stunned him, even. It captivates me, makes me feel like I’m floating.

A smile ghosts his lips when he lifts his face again. “Teach you?”

I nod. “Yeah. I mean, you’re a . . . man,” I say, not so expertly. “And you know what men like. So teach me. Teach me how to be what men want.”

A low laugh vibrates out of him, amusement sparking in his eyes. “As profound as that idea might be, I don’t think I should be the one teaching you what men want.”

I narrow my eyes. “What does that mean?”

“I’m just saying. The kind of guy you’d want to have likethat. . . I doubt he’d share my tastes.”

My cheeks areradiatingheat. “The kind of . . . I’m not sure what that means,” I say haughtily. And then I take a breath. “Look, I just . . . I missed most of the fun part of being young. Being reckless and messy and naive and . . . I want to get some of that back before it’s too late. Sex should havealwaysbeen on the table.” It’s not the whole truth, but it’s the first time I’ve let myself admit out loud all the things I’ve been starving for.

Any trace of humor is gone from Rhett’s expression, but he doesn’t say a word as he waits for me to go on. “I want to be messy, Rhett. I don’t want to be careful. I want to have stories to tell someday, because right now, I feel like I have nothing of my own.”

He lets out a slow breath, looking back down at the floor between us. Like I might burn him alive if he keeps looking at me. “I get it.” He nods. “I do. But I’m a whole ’nother level of messy, peaches. And I’m a little worried it’ll be too much for you.”

I scoff, rolling my eyes. “I’m not scared of you.” His eyes flare at my blunt response. “All I’m asking is for you to teach me how to be desirable. How to please a man.”

He rubs the scruff of his chin with the back of his knuckles before he shakes his head. “I can’t teach you how to be desirable,” he says firmly.

“Why not?” I ask, thankfully only vaguely aware of how desperate it makes me sound. But it isn’t desperation I’m feeling.

Something on his face changes, sharpens, as if he’s considering something. And suddenly Iamdesperate—desperate to know what he’s thinking, if there’s a chance he might actually say yes. I’m about to ask again when he takes a step toward me, moving until he’s crowding into my space and pushing me back against the wall.

His broad chest brushes against mine, and my stomach somersaults from the feel of it. Two pale gray eyes move across my face as he leans in closer . . . so close I think he might be about to kiss me. My heart fully stops beating as I brace myself for it, praying to god my breath is still fresh enough from the mint I had hours ago.

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