When she reaches into the bag, she stills, eyes darting over to me. In a flash, she’s tugging everything out.
With the chaps free of the bag, she makes this satisfied little sighing sound. “Rhett.”
I sip at my coffee and enjoy watching her, every little drop of excitement that plays across her face. I’ve never gotten off on giving someone a gift quite like I’m enjoying this right now.
“Do you like them?”
“Do I like them? Are you kidding me? I love them. But these are from the first rodeo we went to?”
I shrug.
“Did you order them or something?”
“Nope.”
“You bought them while we were there?”
“Yup.”
Her mouth opens and closes as she holds them up again. They really are beautiful. The craftsmanship is top of the line. So was the price tag. When she surged ahead of me, I purchased them as fast as I could.
But it’s not a completely unselfish gift. I’m dying to see her in them.
“Why?”
“Where else would you find a nice pair of child-sized chaps?”
She rolls her eyes.
“I got them because I saw you staring at them. I saw the look on your face. And then you told me you had to quit riding when you got sick. I thought you’d want to start again at some point. Maybe out here. With me. Then I saw you on my horse—a fucking natural—and I knew I’d made the right call.”
She blinks at me, eyes shinier than they were seconds ago. Her smile is watery as she stares down and runs her dainty fingers over the polished silver studs. “I thought you hated me then.”
I shake my head, a little sheepish over what a growly prick I’d been to her. “The only thing I hated was how badly I wanted you, Princess.”
“Thank you.” She says it so earnestly, it tugs on strings I didn’t know exist. Those big brown soulful eyes—fuck—I’d do anything she wants me to. I’m an absolute goner for this girl, and I never even saw her coming.
“You’re welcome.” My voice is gruff, and I know I need to tell her what this is too. To tell her things I’ve been thinking about. Like that once the season is over, once I’m not a client to her, I’m going to commit my entire off-season to convincing her to give me a shot. A real shot.
A shot to be everything.
But I chicken out, not sure I can handle a rejection, or another person leaving me. Especially not one who’s rapidly become as important to me as Summer is. So instead, I just say, “Put them on, then you can thank me on your knees.”
* * *
Summer grumbles as I lead her up the stairs, her hand wrapped in mine so damn perfectly. Her grumbles are half-hearted and done with a small smile. Something about if the press found out I’m a sex addict, they’d have a field day.
When we get to my room, I shut the door and give her a little push into the sprawling space. Wood beam ceilings boast an antler chandelier hanging over a four-poster pine bed. Big sliding doors open onto a spacious second-floor patio, which holds a small wrought iron bistro set looking out over the range, pointed right at the Rocky Mountains.
“Wow,” she breathes, struck by the view. She stops and stares. “Why the hell do you have your coffee downstairs with a view like that?”
I watch her as she admires the scenery—the slender column of her neck, the sharp angle of her jaw, dainty ear adorned with an understated gold stud. Summer is all class. All shiny and proper and well-educated.
It’s fucking hot. It also makes me want to dirty her up a bit.
“The view downstairs has been better lately.”
She shoots me a playful look, pursing her lips and shaking her head.