Page 70 of Only Mine
“Papa, why are you hugging Miss Wrenley?” Ivy’s voice carries clear across the water.
We spring apart, and I nearly trip over a rock. Saint steadies me again, cursing under his breath.
“Just helping her down,” he calls back.
Rome coughs something that sounds suspiciously like, “Bullshit.”
If I thought my face was red before, it’s probably a nicepuce color now as I put distance between us, pretending to be fascinated by the creek. The water babbles over smooth stones, and I focus on that instead of the way my body aches to be touched by Saint without the annoyance of clothes.
Needing something to do with my hands, I pluck my phone from Penny’s saddle. Through the screen, I frame a shot of Ivy on Scribbles and Rome holding the reins as the horse drinks. The afternoon light filters through the leaves, creating a dappled pattern across the water.
“She adores you.”
I jump. Saint’s moved beside me, close enough that I catch the scent of leather and that cologne that’s been driving me crazy ever since I met him.
“I adore her too,” I admit.
“That’s the problem.”
The words are so quiet, I almost miss them.
“Saint…”
“I hired someone else because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” The confession comes out scalded, like it’s been burned out of him. “Thought distance would fix it.”
My heart stops. “Did it?”
He turns to look at me, and the open hunger in his eyes makes my knees weak. “What do you think?”
“Papa! My legs are tired!” Ivy’s voice breaks through the moment. “Can we go back now?”
Saint blinks. Then he steps away, taking the warmth with him.
“Oui,mon trésor. We can head back.”
During the return journey, Saint and I listen to Ivy chattering about horses while deliberately avoiding talking to each other, but she’s clearly wearing down, her voice getting drowsier. By the time we reach the barn, she’s slumped in the saddle.
“Someone had too much excitement,” Rome observes, helping her down.
“I’m not tired,” Ivy protests, then yawns so wide we can see her molars.
Saint dismounts and reaches for her, but she’s already winding her arms around my legs.
“Can Miss Wrenley put me to bed tonight?” she mumbles against my pants.
The question gives us all pause. We all know what tonight means. What tomorrow brings.
“I—” I start.
“Please?” Ivy looks up with those eyes that are so like her father’s. “You can read me the unicorn book.”
Saint’s face is inscrutable. “If Miss Wrenley wants to.”
“Of course I want to,” I say softly.
Rome coughs. “I’ll take care of the horses. You guys get the little one home.”
Saint nods, scooping up Ivy, who immediately burrows into his shoulder. I follow them to the SUV, my legs unsteady from more than the riding.
