No White Knight

At least he’s easy on the eyes.

Who am I kidding?

He’s divine. I can’t stop drinking in that chiseled face, those wild amber-brown eyes, the way he makes everything look easy with his endless, casual, calm strength.

Holy flipping potatoes.

I might be falling a little bit in love with Holt Silverton.

I wanted to tell myself it was lust.

Just me getting myself all wired up over a pretty face and mistaking that enchantment for love, but now?

I don’t think that’s all it is by a long shot.

Because it’s not just his face making my heart thump so hard.

It’s the gentle, curious, knowing way he’s looking at me.

It’s the fact that he brought me out here. He knew I needed something sweet to take my mind off all the bitterness.

“Libby?” he calls me again.

I smile. “You know what’s up. You brought me out here so I’d get all starry-eyed over the flowers.”

He grins. He’s sitting in the saddle with his hips slouched forward and his thighs spread in a way that just punches my gut.

“Worked, didn’t it?” He looks away, his gaze drifting across the field. “I don’t know how many times I’ve stood on that cliff and thrown flowers over it with some chick.”

“You…what?” My breath stalls, nervous anger licking my ears. “So that’s why you brought me out here? To see the legacy of all your broken hearts?”

“Nah. But you took the bait, hook, line, and sinker.” He smiles that shit-eating grin. “I never did anything here. This place is serious, too sacred for games. I just wanted to see it for myself.” He turns his head back to me. “I’m not coming back here again until I mean it one day.”

Oh, now that ain’t fair.

It ain’t fair that he’s looking at me like he’s thinking all those things that’ve been running through my head since last night.

It ain’t fair that with one hot look, he gets me all flustered, my breaths tight and my face burning.

It definitely ain’t fair that I want him to come here and throw flowers over the edge with me.

I tear my gaze away with a snort. “I think I’ll only come back here when I’m ready to throw you over the cliff.”

He bursts out laughing. “Don’t think the legend said anything about human sacrifice.”

“Maybe I’m not looking for love. Maybe I just want a pact with some devil to solve all my problems.”

He’s quiet then, smiling at my side, though I won’t look to see what his eyes can tell me.

“Not looking for love?” It’s there in his voice.

I can’t answer that. But I can distract us both.

It’s a good thing I trained Frost well. He doesn’t even balk as I edge him over next to Holt.

Then lever myself out of Frost’s saddle and into Plath’s.

There’s a jolt, a bit of a side step, Holt’s soft grunt as I land across his lap, straddling him, facing him.

His hands fall to my hips, steadying me.

Soon we’re just eye to eye, lips to lips, form to form.

A frozen second.

Those hazed, dark eyes of his pour into mine.

God. There’s something sad there I can’t quite make out, but something just as hungry as the wildness in me.

There’s barely another breath that passes before we crush into each other with a scalding heat.

If you’ve never kissed a man on horseback, you haven’t lived.

We spend a good long while kissing each other’s faces off.

Best part is, I get to watch his sinful beauty the whole time.

Holt Silverton, my own fallen angel.

My secret wish, even if nobody chucks any flowers over the cliff today.

18

A Horse In This Race (Holt)

I’m starting to think fate had something in mind when it threw us together.

Maybe that’s just wishful thinking, but I can’t help wanting this to be real as I settle into my days with her.

Weekdays on the site end with coming home to Libby’s cooking. We fall into bed together, pass out, and I wake up in the morning to whip her up some breakfast.

Weekends on the ranch, putting in some hard labor to help her out and getting a feel for the place all my own. I start to get why she’s so attached to it.

Her sweat’s in this land.

Her blood.

Her life.

Her love.

She’d rather die a thousand times than let anybody steal this place away.

Yeah, I know I’m only temporary.

I know I’m just here to keep her safe until we’re sure Declan’s hyenas aren’t coming back.

Still, with every day that passes, I’m starting to feel like a part of me belongs on the Potter ranch, too.

I’m starting to feel like it’s home.

I’m also starting to feel like this place is too damn quiet.

It’d be nice to think a tough-talker like Declan was actually a chickenshit, a coward who ran when he realized his easy mark wasn’t so easy after all.

I’ve got a bad feeling, though.