Willa:OK, FINE. Is it illegal to bang Cade?
Summer:You’d have to ask him. Haven’t seen him with a woman the entire time I’ve known him. Maybe he thinks it’s illegal?
Willa:He *is* a stickler for the rules. Maybe I’ll break them and see if he spanks me.
Summer:Fucking gross.
* * *
Once I hear the door click shut the next morning—so Cade doesn’t have to be scandalized by my nipples—I peek in through Luke’s slightly open door to see him sprawled wide in his bed, looking adorably exhausted.
Smiling to myself, I pad through the quiet house toward the kitchen. The sun is up, but barely, and the light in the house is blue. The birds sound so damn happy, trilling away outside. I can’t wait to sit on the front porch with my book and a hot cup of coffee.
I stop in my tracks when I get far enough into the kitchen to see that there is still a sizeable amount of coffee left in the pot.
As I draw closer, I see a Post-it note on the counter, written in a choppy scrawl.
Red,
The coffee is for you. Starting some two-year-olds today. If you feel like getting your back broken, meet me at the barn and you can sit on one.
- C
I snort. Oh, I feel like getting my back broken alright.
By him.
Not a horse.
He’s also left a mug beside the coffeemaker. I trail my fingers over the rounded handle, remembering the feel of him pressing in behind me as I reached for a cup the other morning. The feel of him pushing his hips into mine as we swayed in the kitchen.
I pour myself a cup, and it tastes better just because he made it. Just because he left everything out, knowing I was waiting for him to leave. Because he listened to what I told him.
Cade is the embodiment of actions speaking louder than words. He wasn’t about to fall all over himself apologizing for not making enough coffee for me. Instead, he just made more and left me a mug, knowing that it would make me feel good.
And a Post-it note addressed to Red.
Maybe I’m an idiot but it feels sweet. Coming from Cade, itissweet.
The morning passes calmly until Lukeasaurus Rex wakes up and makes me run away from him like I’m terrified.
I feed him a suitable dinosaur breakfast, and then we head down to the barn to see what starting a two-year-old horse is like.
Or in my case, to check out Daddy Cowboy.
I park my Jeep near the main barn, and we follow the sounds of hooting and hollering to the other side, walking hand in hand.
“There he is!” Luke shouts, pointing at his dad.
My mouth dries out on the spot. I do show jumping—fancy white pants and horses imported from Europe—so while I know horses, cowboys are still a new ball game for me.
Butgoddamn. What a ballgame it is.
Cade sits on a dark horse, speckled with gray—a beautiful blue roan color with black mane and tail—which perfectly matches his black cowboy hat, signature bicep-hugging black T-shirt, and black leather chaps over worn jeans.
He’s seated comfortably in the saddle. Leather-gloved hands on the horn of his saddle, hip popped comfortably, with a toothpick hanging out the side of his mouth and an amused smirk on his lips.
He’s so fucking hot.