Page 47 of Stitched Up in You
Jumping from the saddle, energy crackling from my palms, I force myself to be stationary as she grins at me from where she sits on Brom, looking very much like a beast tamer of old. The pink of her cheeks makes her pale skin glow almost ethereally in the afternoon light, something I hadn’t noticed before.
A smile spreads across her lips as she raises one dark red brow. “Who isn’t at least a little upset when they don’t get their daily ride in,” she says cheekily.
With no time to react, I catch her when she suddenly throws herself into my arms and wraps her arms around my head, planting my face squarely between her large sweater-covered breasts. My lungs seize at the sweet smell of orange blossoms blazing across my brain, but before I can act on my baser impulses like I want to do, I force myself away from her, thanking my lucky stars when she doesn’t resist my prying her off my person.
I shoot her a glare of reproach when a smug gleam flickers in her gaze where it rests firmly on my slacks, where they’re currently raised as if my dick can burst through the tailored seams by will alone.
“Behave,” I tell her, my words a growl as I grip her soft shoulders and step away.
She gives a shake of her head and twirls in place before moving toward the largest stable building. “What else are you hiding around here Mr. Stein?” she asks, excitement clear in her tone.
I glance back at Brom, who hangs his head to eat at a trough filled just that morning with fresh apples and snow peas and notice how the reins are brushing the ground.
I wave a hand off at him, knowing if the horse were fussed, he could take the damned thing off himself. The mind boggles at what feats the short-statured chit can do in such a short time. I turn and find her missing, the side door to the stable open wide.
“Where are you?” I bellow when I enter the barn, knowing I won’t quickly find her among all of the stacks of hay.
“Here,” she replies, the sound of her voice closer than I imagined her, “I’m not going to wonder off far when I know things like Brom exist.”
“There are more animals, though none quite like him,” I reply, her genuineness twisting my insides and somehow making me want to tell her more.
Filled with both natural and manmade light, the inside of the stable is two stories high, with vaulted ceilings and more than thirty stalls, all for Brom. Built and rebuilt over time, the last stable interior was manufactured and shipped to order by humans and set up by ghouls. So far, this one has been the longest standing, even if it has only been upright a month.
“Where are the other animals kept?” she asks, raising on the tiptoes of her shoes as if this will allow her some great height to see from.
I think back to how she leaned down to pet Brom Bones, a creature so fearsome not even the hardiest of ghouls will try him on, but she rides him like she was born to it. This woman who seemingly hacked into my company for nefarious purposes, something men have been trying to do for decades all for greed, stands here begging to see animals instead of bleeding my accounts dry. A sharp frown creases her brow when she finds nothing in the next small room. She won’t find anything, not here.
I almost want to laugh at the peculiarities of this human. “To see above the stalls, you’d need to find stilts.”
“Was that a joke Frank?” she gasps, putting one hand to her chest in dramatics, walking further into the building. “Seriously, growl all you want, we both know you’re a softy.”
A softy?
I watch as she meanders down the room and pokes her head above every door, hoping to see another creature of Brom’s ilk. “How do you know I keep animals here and not in my evil lab?”
The expression on her face is comical as she prances back, hobbling on one foot, a wide grin spilling into her green gaze. “So, you do have an evil lab.”
“Fix your shoe woman so we can go.”
Chapter 18
BERNADETTE CRENSHAW
Oh Frank, I’ve got you now.
Grandaddy always did say you get more flies with honey than vinegar.
I take a seat on the bare wooden bench in front of an empty horse stall as an idea comes to mind, dangling my feet. I wonder how many sexual fantasies I can play out in a day.
His gaze narrows, and my brows tug together in a wince. “If you’d just get memyshoes, this wouldn’t have happened,” I mutter. Not a lie. Even if the piece of straw has been in there since before we started this whole roller coaster ride of flaming horses to somehow actually coming to like Frank Stein.
What started as a snooping adventure has turned out to be so much better than I could have imagined, obviously not the vacation I thought I’d be having right now, but there are definite perks.
My nose twitches, the scent pleasantly clean with the amount of fresh straw. I glance up at the tall wooden beams of the stable, knowing the place must have cost a fortune as it rivals the polo clubs I would visit as girl.
And the man himself…
He quirks a brow when he catches me looking, and a shiver rolls through me. He lumbers closer and I move to unlace the shoes I borrowed from my room.
