Speaking of lips . . . I watched, transfixed, as he drank directly from the thermos. His Adam’s apple bobbed in the sexiest way. I wondered what it would be like to kiss it. He handed it back to me, and I turned it surreptitiously to put my lips in the same place. I couldn't help it.
I was giving a whole new meaning to the word ‘thirsty’.
Wait . . . is he looking at my mouth? He is. Nick Henderson is actually looking at me. This is a first.
“I was about to take Hendrix for a walk,” I said stupidly.
Stop trying to impress him. It won't work. It will never work. You tried a thousand times back in high school, remember? You're just a girl and he is a man. A man who could have any woman he wanted and probably does with revolting frequency.
"I didn't know you were still doing that."
"Of course. Hendrix and I are old buddies."
"I'll go back to paying you. Unless . . . are you going back to school?"
Did he sound almost . . . hopeful? Worried?
I shook my head and shrugged.
“I’m halfway through my junior year, but I probably won't be going back anytime soon.”
“Junior?” he asked suspiciously. “How old are you?”
"Twenty," I answered, tilting my head to the side. What was he getting at? “I’ll be twenty-one soon."
He shook his head and backed away looking somewhat terrified. I glanced behind me to see if there was an axe murderer or something. I halfway expected to see a guy wearing a hockey mask. But there was nothing there.
"That's cool,” he practically stammered. “Good to see you. I got to . . ."
I watched him go and shrugged. It was early in the morning for most people. And Nick had always been a man of few words.
"Right. Okay. I need to get back to work too," I said to the empty hallway. I highly doubted he heard me, but whatever. Either way, I knew I'd spend the rest of the day daydreaming about Nick.
Chapter Three
Nick
"Hey, buddy," I murmured, brushing Hendrix's silky coat. Even though he got a daily grooming, I knew he liked the extra attention. I liked it, too. Hendrix was a giant kitty cat in a lot of ways. He was looking good. Excited to see me. But my mind was elsewhere.
The truth was, my mind was fucking blown.
What the hell just happened to me? Had I really just seen that? Had I just seen her?
All those years. Every single time I’d tried to imagine the girl I would end up with someday. And she’d been there all along.
Melissa. It was Melissa. It had always been Melissa.
Fuck. Double fuck. Triple fuckity-fuck.
Goddammit. Why did it have to be her? She was too fucking young for me, even at twenty years old. And I still thought of her as a kid, even though she clearly wasn’t. I couldn’t betray my friendship with her folks by creeping on their way-too-fucking-gorgeous-for-her-own-good, not-to-mention-far-too-young-for-me daughter. But there was no mistaking the way my body reacted to her. Not just my body, either.
My brain was craving her, too.
I’d wanted to listen to her talk. Stare at her. Get to know all about her. Never mind wanting to pounce on her, toss her over my shoulder, and carry her away with me. Not just wanted, either. That was too soft of a word. I’d needed to get closer to her.
It had taken an act of extreme willpower for me to walk away from her instead of running toward her like I’d wanted to. Now the air felt empty. Like there had been an electrical charge in the very atoms. But without her there, it was gone.
I knew it sounded crazy, but there it was. The fucking planet shifted when I saw Melissa. Gravity disappeared. The sky could have been the freaking ground beneath my feet for all I knew.
Hell, my whole world has been rocked.
"Let's just take an easy walk," I offered Hendrix, deciding not to saddle him. I didn't ride him very often anymore. Mostly, we just went for slow strolls around the grounds. Honeycutt Stables wasn’t fancy—hell, I couldn’t have afforded it if it was—but it did have a gorgeous plot of land for the horses to roam and it was really well managed. I knew Hendrix got lots of exercise in the afternoons out in the fields with the other horses that were stabled here, along with the ‘lesson ponies’ that kids learned to ride on. But it was different when I took him out. It was our time together. I knew that if I didn't come every couple of days, he got lonely, but I tried to come five days a week if I could. He needed the one on one time.
Hell, I needed the one on one time too. Maybe more than he did. I had my fellow Devil’s Riders, but that was it. And most of them had families to go home to at night. I’d been more or less on my own since I was barely a teen, and in a lot of ways, I still was.