Page 23 of Claimed By the Cowboys
The sound of horses whinnying and shifting in their stalls filled the air, along with the smell of hay and, well, horse, which was distinctive and becoming increasingly familiar. We got out of the sudden rain, still dripping, which left droplet shapes dotting the concrete floor. I stifled a shiver as the air moved through the room, chilling my wet skin.
Without meaning to, I wrinkled my nose at that persistent smell that seemed stronger now that it was raining, sending Zeke into a chain of low chuckles.
“What?” I fixed him with a glare until Zeke opted to explain himself, his hand raised up in surrender as his wet bangs hung in his face.
“Just funny because I can’t even smell it anymore.” He shrugged. “But I get it.”
“Are you really going to try to pretend like horse shit smells good if you aren’t ‘from the city’?” I snorted a laugh, crossing my arms over my chest in an attempt to warm up.
“Course not! Horse shit is still horse shit—but I’m pretty used to it. Like being around anything for a while makes it less of a surprise, I guess.” Zeke snickered, ambling over to the large pen of hay at the end of the stalls, a red and black heavy plaid blanket draped over the top rung of the hay pen. Another thinner one was nearby, and he snagged that, too, throwing it over his shoulder.
“Plus…” He snapped out the large blanket, letting it float down onto the large pile of hay before he made his way back to me. “Right now, I’m mostly smellin’you.”
He dipped his head, bending low so that his nose was nearly in my hair, and goose bumps skittered to life across my body from his proximity, my pulse skyrocketing. Then his hands circled me with the smaller blanket, gifting me warmth that the storm had tried to steal away.
“And you smellrealgood.”
It took every ounce of my willpower not to climb that man like a goddamn tree right then and there. Horse shit be damned. I knew I was a goner, my resolve fading with each passing second.In fact, why was I fighting this?
“You do too,” I murmured dumbly, more than a little embarrassed that I still couldn’t quite place his scent—tangy, fruity, bright.
Out of the corner of my eye, a dark shape skittered across the floor out of the bottom of one stall and into another. I squealed, practically launching myself into Zeke’s arms.
“Whoa, what’s wrong?”
I shakily pointed at the stall where I’d seen the tiny thing disappear. He followed my finger, his brow furrowing now.
“D’you see something?”
“M-mouse!” I jabbed my finger forward again, clutching the blanket for dear life. “Over there!”
Zeke, god love him, did his best to fight back the smile that wanted to break free. He released me, giving me a reassuring pat on the shoulder, and then walked over to the stall. He opened the door, and I squeezed into myself, terrified that he was going to come back with the thing dangling by its tail in his fingers.
I waited. And waited some more.
Then Zeke emerged from the horse stall a few feet away, his hands cupped around something very small and admittedly much fuzzier than I imagined a rat or mouse to be. I was shaking my head no when he reached me, afraid that he was going to pull some mean trick, but then Zeke opened his hand to reveal a tiny kitten.
“Oh!” I crooned, utterly taken by the little fuzzball. “He probably ran in from the storm.”
“So the city girl isn’t afraid of a little kitten, just a mouse. Which is at least three times smaller than this guy,” Zeke teased, nudging me with his elbow.
I frowned, dropping my head as he carried the kitten back to the stall and tucked it into a warm home of hay. I eyed him as he sauntered up to me. He got so close, and my heart leaped into my throat at that tasty scent of his.
“To be fair, city mice are filthy, so I have a reason to be wary.”
“Uh-huh,” he mumbled, nodding as his stare drifted down over my body.
My clothes were clinging to me, emphasizing my curves, and I had to admit that I didn’t mind the way he was looking at me. Zeke’s clothes were plastered to him, too, and my core clenched at the sight of all those muscles.
“Now, I know you’ve never gone horseback riding.” Zeke shot me a dangerous glance, taking my hands in his and gentlyguiding me to the blanket he set out. “But have you ever gone for a roll in the hay?” he asked, a low rumble in his voice.
“No, I have not,” I answered coyly, allowing him to guide me down into the soft, springy makeshift bed he had assembled precisely for this purpose.
The tension between us flared. This was not horseback riding. And if I was picking up what Zeke was putting down, he very much intended for it to be cowboy riding.Jeez, how did I get myself into this?
Still, I could hardly deny the way my fingers itched to touch him. Zeke was so damn beautiful, all muscles and charming smiles. It’d been nearly impossible to keep myself from him all this time, and now he was right here, flirting up a storm and putting on all the moves.
I knew somewhere in the back of my head that I should resist this, but the rest of me didn’t want to.
