Spur’s heart raced through his chest, much the same way Lucky had galloped around the track together. She’d ran, and Spur was confident he could sell her for a three-quarters of a million dollars. Her mother had won the Preakness three years ago, and her father had qualified for the Derby.
Everyone already knew about Lucky, because it had been a big news event when Here For Good had been brought in to Bluegrass Ranch for the studding. News vans had followed his horse trailer from the ranch where he’d retired, and Spur had turned them away at the gates of Bluegrass.
He got a couple of hours with the horse, and he wanted to make sure his mare got pregnant. No news crews needed for that.
Before he knew it, he stood on Olli’s porch once again. If she knew how hard it was to come to the door and ring that blasted bell, she’d have the door open for him before he got there.
“No!” he heard behind the door, and he instinctively leaned closer to it to hear more. “Witcher, you naughty thing. No!”
Spur pressed the button to ring the bell, and Olli appeared only a few seconds later. She sighed as she pushed her hair off her forehead. “Hey, come in.”
“Don’t sound so happy about it,” he teased.
“My stupid cat ate the fish,” she said, giving him a disgruntled look as she went past him.
“I can call for delivery,” he said easily.
“I promised you dinner,” she said, her voice full of helplessness.
“Animals are unpredictable,” Spur said.
Olli turned back to him. “You’ve told me that before. Last week, when the sheep nearly trampled me.”
Spur looked up from his phone, where he’d been looking up delivery times for his favorite places. He blinked and then started laughing. “They wouldn’t have touched you,” he said. “Sheep are scared of their own shadow.”
Olli smiled, at least. “Why did you ride in on your big horse then?” She practically prowled toward him, and Spur forgot all about delivery and his phone as he drank in her feminine form. She wore a black pencil skirt that fell tastefully to her knees and gave her an hourglass shape in her hips and waist and bust.
The black and white striped blouse was open at the throat, and Spur tried to imagine what she’d taste like in that spot. His mind blanked when he caught the scent of her perfume, because it was so sexy and so perfect for a woman like Olli.
“Huh?” She tiptoed her fingers up the front of his shirt, and Spur could only look at her. He’d forgotten the question and everything.
He hadn’t forgotten what he’d promised himself he’d do that night, and he easily took Olli into his arms, bent his head toward her, and paused.
Her eyes closed, and Spur took that as permission. He still took a moment to remove his hat and ask, “Can I kiss you, Olli?”
“Yes, please,” she whispered, and then Spur didn’t waste another moment. He let his eyes drift closed too, so he could experience Olli with just taste, sound, touch, and smell.
She tasted like butter and garlic, and Spur sure did like that. He heard himself make a little groan, and he felt Olli’s fingers move through his hair. He breathed in through his nose, getting that delicious scent of something floral and something clean and something maybe a little spicy. No matter what, her perfume drove him to deepen the kiss, and he was glad he’d remembered how to kiss a woman without making a complete fool of himself.