Page 12 of That One Night
Christ.He tossed the ruined tank into the trash and took the panties into the laundry room, adding them to the overflowing basket. He’d wash them, fold them, and return them. Not because he wanted an excuse to see her again. He didn’t. She was off-limits, for more reasons than he could count. But he didn’t want her thinking someone else would find her panties lying in a field. Somewhere under the muscles and rough edges, he still had a sliver of decency.
Popping the top of a soda can, he drained half of it in one gulp. He’d take a shower, find a new t-shirt and get back to working on the cottage.
He’d had barely made it halfway to the living room when he heard the front door creak open. No knock. No shout. Just the sound of an intruder with hooves.
“You have got to be kidding me,” he muttered, heading back toward the hallway.
Frank. Of course.
The damn goat had wandered inside like he owned the place. His chin lifted, his beady eyes scanning the room like he was appraising the decor.
“You can go right back out the way you came in,” Hendrix told him.
Frank let out a short bleat and took a few slow steps, ignoring him completely. Hendrix sighed. He’d agreed to take on Frank when he bought the place, figuring one goat couldn’t be that much trouble. He hadn’t realized the damn thing was Houdini in disguise with a lingerie habit.
Still, Frank made sense in a way most people didn’t. He didn’t talk back, didn’t judge, and didn’t care about Hendrix’s past. And sometimes, Hendrix could relate to a creature who refused to be fenced in.
But stealing women’s underwear? That wasn’t the kind of rebellion Hendrix could get behind.
Not when it gothimin trouble.
“Out. Now,” he said, curling his fingers around Frank’s collar and leading him to the door. Frank resisted for a moment, then let out a long sigh, like this was all beneath him, and allowed himself to be escorted out.
Hendrix walked him to the edge of the yard, giving him a gentle nudge back toward the pasture. Frank turned and pressed his cold nose against Hendrix’s back.
“Don’t give me the sad eyes,” Hendrix said, rubbing his hand over Frank’s fuzzy head. “You can’t go around stealingunderwear and expect to get away with it. Some women are off-limits.”
Frank gave him a look that said he disagreed.
Hendrix let out a breath. “Yeah, I know. She was pretty. But she’s engaged. She’s got her whole life planned out already. She’s not for guys like us.”
Frank flicked his tail, then trotted off without a backward glance, like he didn’t believe a word his owner just told him.
“Oh my God, I wish I’d been there to see that,” Maisie said, laughing down the phone line. Emery groaned, her cheeks still burning from the memory of standing almost naked in the middle of the field.
“Sooo… this Hendrix guy. Is he hot?”
“If you like that kind of thing,” Emery muttered.
Maisie didn’t miss a beat. “It doesn’t matter what I like. I’m asking about you.”
There was the sound of shuffling, like Maisie was getting herself comfortable. It was late at night in Europe, but jet lag had hit her hard. According to her rant when Emery answered her call, her body was still working on eastern US time.
She’d spent the last half hour gushing about how gorgeous English men were and how she’d already landed two tinder dates since arriving on European soil.
Emery felt a pang of envy, listening to her best friend’s escapades. She missed her. She missed having somebody she could talk to and confide in.
Truth was, she’d only just got here and she was already feeling lonely. It was hard to feel that way when she was working. She loved being surrounded by her students. Her dayswere full of teaching and her nights full of grading and lesson planning during the school year.
But now, it was just her, the farm, and her mom. And all the stupid thoughts rushing through her head.
After putting Hendrix’s t-shirt on, she’d managed to sneak back into the house without her mom noticing, thank god. And she’d hidden his t-shirt under her pillow because she was pretty sure her mom would notice an item of man’s clothing in the laundry.
Despite her embarrassment there’d been something else. A feeling harder to define. All she knew was that every time she thought about the way that man had looked at her, it made her body heat up.
When was the last time Trenton had seen her like that, unable to pull his eyes away? She could barely remember.
He certainly hadn’t stared at her with dark eyes, looking like he wanted nothing more than to throw her over his shoulder and carry her to his bed.
