I place my hand on the small of her back.
Her breath hitches.
My dick twitches.
“Let’s do this,” I say, and lead her to my truck. I don’t want to give her the opportunity to back out. Fuck that. I’m a lucky bastard that she’s willing to spend the day with me, and I’m holding her to that. No backing out.
I load her camera in the backseat and start the truck. It only takes me ten minutes to load up a couple of bales of hay, the feed, and the show saddle, and we are on the road.
“Why photography?” I ask, hoping that our easy banter will be in full swing today.
“When I was nine, my grandmother gave me a camera. I took pictures of everything. I fell in love with capturing everything.” She laughs. “I remember Mom had to have a tooth extracted and she had a lot of swelling and bruising in her cheeks. I took a ton of pictures. She was not impressed.”
I can hear the sadness in her voice, but also the fondness. “I’m sure she was bribing you like crazy to not print those.”
“She did. She actually offered to buy me a newer camera. I turned her down, of course. Those pictures were gold. Even Grandma thought so. What about you? Never wanted anything other than the family business?”
“Never. I love it. I love working outdoors and with the horses. I love the fact that I don’t have a regular nine-to-five. Sure, I work a hell of a lot more hours, but it doesn’t really feel like work.”
“Do what you love and it will never feel like a job.”
“Exactly. It helps that my best friend, who is now my brother-in-law, is in the same business and we partner on a lot of things. Midnight Rain, for example.”
“He’s not coming?”
“Nah, Walker is still a little young to bring to an all-day show like this. Lex tends to get bored after the first hour or so too. This is hopefully the first of many for this particular horse. I told him not to worry about it and stay home with his family.”
“You’re a good guy, Aaron Mills.”
“Shhh!” I say animatedly. “Don’t blow my cover.” My voice is a loud whisper.
Whitney throws her head back in laughter, and I have the urge to pull the truck to the side of the road so that I can watch her and take in this beauty who is sitting next to me.
Her phone rings and she fishes it out of her purse. “Go ahead,” I say, turning the radio down.
“Jamie, hey.”
Jamie? It’s a dick move, but I listen a little closer, not that I have a ton of options in the truck cab.
“Good. Yeah, today I’m headed to a horse show to take pictures.” She pauses. “Real-life cowboys?” She looks over at me. “Yeah, there are a few.” She grins.
I switch lanes and signal to turn into the local feed and supply store. She raises her eyebrows in question; I ignore it and park the truck.
“Listen, we’re stopping, so I need to go, but I’ll call you later. Yeah, I’ll send a few pictures when we get home tonight, as long as Aaron doesn’t mind.”
I want to puff out my chest that she mentioned me.
“Great, I’ll talk to you later.”
“Friend from back home?”
“Best friend,” she corrects me. “She and I met in kindergarten and have been inseparable since.”
Jamie is a girl. Good to know.
“What are we doing here?”
“You need boots.”
“What? You told me I was fine.” She glares at me.
“You are, but I don’t want you to risk getting a smashed toe. Besides that, you need boots. You are going to be doing shoots on the farm and more than likely tagging along to a few more shows when McKinley can’t.”
“Aaron. . . .”
“Not listening, Whit. I’m buying you boots.” I climb out of the truck. I hear her door slam and I know she’s following me.
“I don’t need them. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m not budging on this.”
“Stubborn. I’ll buy my own damn boots. I’ve been wanting a pair anyway.” She stomps ahead of me into the store.
Cute.
I bite my lip to keep the laugh from forming and follow her inside.
“How in the hell do you choose?” she asks, staring at the rows and rows of women’s boots.
“Comfort. That’s the most important thing. You need to make sure that they don’t rub or hurt your feet, because there is nothing worse.”
“I want them to look good too,” she says, picking up a brown pair with pink stitching.
“Grab a sock from the shelf and start trying them on. I would suggest you try both feet, not just one, to make sure. Walk around the store to make sure they are a good fit.”
“I’ve bought shoes before, Aaron.”
I keep my mouth shut and nod. I take a seat on the bench and watch her as she finds her size, grabs a couple of socks, and sits next to me. She tries them on, then stands.
“How do they feel?”
“A little tight around the ankle.” She walks up and down the aisle, stopping to look at other styles as she does. She comes back carrying another box. “I’m going to try these.”
The second box holds another pair of brown boots, but these are covered in intricate black threaded designs. She slides her feet into them, and I can already tell that they go on easier than the first pair. Standing, she takes a couple of trips up and down the aisle.
“These feel so much better.” She bounces a little on the balls of her feet, getting a good feel for them before turning and walking to the end of the aisle and back again.
I stay rooted in my spot on the bench, my eyes glued to her legs that look fan-fucking-tastic in cowboy boots. What is it about a woman in shorts and boots that’s so hot?
“These,” she says with a huge-ass grin on her face. “They are actually really comfortable.”
“Good.” I stand and grab the box. She doesn’t even notice until I am halfway to the register.
“Aaron!” she scolds me. I ignore her and keep walking, only pausing slightly to grab a pair of wicking socks to keep her feet dry in the heat.
I’ve just finished swiping my card when she makes it back to me. “You don’t play fair.”
“Nope.” I wink at her. “I told you these were on me. I asked you to come last-minute, and that’s the least I can do for you agreeing to do this for me today.”