Page 36 of Chasing Home
Some of the light fades from his eyes as his expression morphs into one far more serious than I think I’ve ever seen on him. It’s enough to make me feel guilty, and I hate that. I’ve got no reason to feel guilty about what I’ve said. But damn him for looking like a wounded puppy all the same.
I don’t expect him to swing off his horse with a speed and expertise that startles me. His breath escapes him in a low puff as his feet hit the dirt, and he twists before heading right for me. Each step he takes forward is confident, certain. He’s a man on a mission.
I force my eyes not to linger on his thighs as they rub, the denim worn between them the same way mine do. He’s all muscle, though. Every inch of his body has been carved from long hours spent doing physical labour in the hot sun, and I’m self-aware enough to recognize that reminding myself of that is one of the stupidest things I could have ever done.
Swallowing, I force my eyes upward only to find myself immediately snared in his gaze. No longer wounded, he looks . . . determined. My stomach threatens to fall out of my ass.
“You want more coffee? More than just a quick walk from the house to your car? Say the fuckin’ word, gorgeous. I’ve been waiting weeks for the opportunity to give you more than that,” he declares, or maybe vows. Fuck, each syllable is a promise wrapped in a pretty bow and a tag that reads please let me woo you.
“There are secrets in your eyes, darlin’. Ones that, yeah, I’m damn curious about. But they’re not important right now. What is important is that I’m about one second away from beggin’ you for a chance to tie my horse up and drive you home, knowin’ that I’ve got a long walk back ahead of me, just so I have peace of mind that you got home safe. The extra time with you is just a bonus.”
My cheeks are on fire, exposing how flattered I feel. The slight twitch at the corner of his mouth snags my attention, and I focus on it as it curls just enough to be considered a smirk.
“So? What do you say?” he asks, voice soft yet deep.
I think I black out. Because one moment, I’m preparing to duck back inside to ask Eliza for help, and then next, I’m ignoring my instincts and throwing caution to the wind.
“Get in the car, Johnny.”
12
JOHNNY
The inside of Rory’s car is impeccable. It’s clean and organized, with everything in a designated spot. Tiny pink garbage cans rest inside both front doors, and a thick bottle of hand sanitizer is nestled in the small storage slot below the dash.
It smells like vanilla and the cotton-candy-blue, tree-shaped car freshener swinging from the rear-view mirror. I don’t remember the last time I hung an air freshener in my truck. Too long ago, that’s for sure.
Aurora reaches across her body and clicks her seat belt into place before jamming the key into the ignition. The engine putters slightly before coming to life. I keep quiet and buckle my belt.
Movement at the front window of the house catches my eye, and I see Eliza peeking through the slats of the blinds before she notices I’m looking at her and the blinds slap shut again.
“How are you liking the new job?” I ask, opting out of telling Aurora that her boss was just watching us.
Aurora rolls down her window before shifting the car into reverse, and we move away from the house at a creeping pace. “It’s fine. The Steeles are nice people.”
“They are,” I agree, waving at Joker from where she roams in the open field behind the stable, watching us. She’s pissed that I locked her up outside instead of tucking her into the stable like usual, but she can take one for the team right now. “How long are you planning on working here?”
“As long as I need to.”
“That’s vague.”
“It’s the only answer I’ve got right now.”
Turning onto the gravel road, she drives us through the ranch, past the construction crew packing up for the day, and out the open gate. It’s hot enough that the air ripples above the hood of the car, and the dust kicking up behind the tires remains stagnant in the air, lingering for miles as we drive. The inside of the car isn’t much better.
With a wave of my hand in front of the vents that should be blowing air-conditioned air by now, I feel nothing but heat against my palm.
“Does your AC work?” I ask, my brows knitted together as I start to fiddle with the climate-control knobs, turning it to full blast and down again.
“Sometimes,” she answers gruffly.
My eyes bulge. “Sometimes? In this heat?”
She straightens in her seat. “I don’t need a lecture from you, Johnny.”
“I wasn’t gonna lecture you, darlin’. Just wanna make sure you’re taken care of is all.”
Softening a bit, she rolls her pink lips before saying, “Thank you. I just haven’t had a chance to get it into the shop yet. It blew on the drive down here. Maybe it was a sign from the universe that I should have just turned around and stayed.”