Page 47 of Pretend To Be My Cowboy
The sound of footsteps approaching had her looking up with a start. Nash. He was close enough that she could see the muscles in his forearm where he’d rolled up his sleeves.
She let out a shaky breath. No one should have sexy forearms. It just wasn’t fair.
She tore her gaze away, but it was impossible not to be distracted.
From the faded denim jeans to the impossibly perfect way his buttoned-down shirt fitted his sculpted muscles, the man just reeked of masculinity and an old school allure that made her think of classic, movie-star cowboys like John Wayne.
He stopped in front of her. “You ready for your lesson?”
She gazed up at him, trying not to notice how good he smelled—like leather and sweat and everything manly in the whole wide world.
Fake-dating. Fake-dating. Fake-dating! This can never be real, and don’t you dare forget it.
She gave him what she hoped was a serene smile and nodded. “I’m ready.”
He reached a hand down to help her to her feet and her heart tripped over itself when she slipped her fingers into his grip.
Oh heck. Two weeks of pretending with this cowboy, followed by at least four months of not knowing if she had a home here in Aspire or not. It was going to do her head in.
She stopped short, so suddenly that Nash looked down at her in concern. “You all right?”
She nodded, but her mouth was dry.
Home.Funny how she’d never thought about it like that until now. They weren’t just talking about selling a property and some empty house. They were signing off on a home. Her home. Nash’s home. The O’Sullivan sisters’ home.
She caught Nash’s gaze narrowing on her with concern and forced a smile. “I’m fine,” she said, letting go of his hand and starting for the stables. “Nothing a little fresh air won’t cure.”
His chuckle was low and lovely. “Spoken like a true cowgirl. You haven’t even gone for your first ride yet, but I’d say you’ve already got the right spirit.”
She laughed. “Me? A cowgirl?”
I wish.
The thought nearly brought her to a halt again, but she swallowed down her surprise and kept walking, managing just a soft rasp. “Hardly.”
15
There was something wrong with Emma.
Nash had been able to sense it from the moment he’d spotted her on the porch, curled up on the seat like a kitten. She’d been frowning down at her phone, and then when she’d caught sight of him, she’d gotten all tense, like a cat about to spring.
But this was Emma, not some feline he could fix with a treat and a scratch behind the ears, so he was forced to pick his way gently through an emotional minefield.
“You sure nothing’s bothering you?” he asked as they walked.
Her fingers balled into a quick fist, but then released and she tipped sideways, nudging him playfully with her shoulder.
“I’m fine,” she said. She added a smile as if that would convince him.
He might not know much about women, but he could read this one.
She was not fine.
She smelled like heaven, but she was not fine. He shook off the thought. He wasn’t supposed to be noticing her scent, dang it. But he’d never smelled whatever it was she was wearing. Not a perfume, he didn’t think. Maybe shampoo? Or soap?
All he knew was, it smelled like citrus and vanilla, and somehow made him feel like he’d just come home after a long trip away.
He looked down to see her tipping her face back, like she was soaking up the sun. Kinda like a cat. The thought made him snicker and she peered over at him. “What’s so funny?”
