I didn’t belong to anyone except my horse and my club.
At least he has her, I thought to myself, feeling a little bit jealous of my horse. Melissa had always taken such good care of him. Lucky dog, I thought, giving my horse the stink eye. I wouldn’t mind having her gorgeous hands rub me down after a brisk run, or feed me apples . . . and I would be more than happy to eat just about anything out of her palm.
Fuck, man, my horse really did have it made.
I clicked my tongue and he followed me out of his stall. It was hard not to notice that his once sure footing was more tentative and strained. My heart twisted, just like it did every time I noticed that he was declining.
"It sucks getting old, doesn't it, buddy?"
“You're not old,” I heard a teasing voice joke from the doorway behind me. I turned and stared. There she was, lugging a bale of hay, looking cute as a button with a thin sheen of sweat on her skin. How the hell did she do that, look cute and sexy at the same time?
Honestly, Melissa was a walking pinup girl. With hay in her hair, that turned up little nose, and pouty lips . . . never mind that the way those tight jeans fit her was pretty much illegal. She had a plaid shirt tied at her waist, accentuating her curves and hourglass figure. She even had a pitchfork.
Down, boy.
I said something barely audible and forced myself to keep walking.
What the hell was I going to do? I couldn't keep my hands off her forever if I kept coming around. I knew in my gut that I wasn’t going to be able to stay away even if I tried to move Hendrix somewhere else. But . . . if I avoided her as much as humanly possible, would this crazy feeling go away?
Nope. Don’t even bother, dumbass. You’re hooked.
I closed my eyes and I saw her indescribably pretty face with all those little golden strands dangling around it. Oh, my fucking God, it was cute. I’d never fucking noticed a woman's hairstyle before. And now I was noticing her lack of some contrived hairstyle and how fucking adorable it was.
I walked Hendrix briskly out into the fields, fighting the urge to run like hell. I went as far as I could go. Then I sat down on a log and contemplated my current situation.
Not situation. I had a predicament.
Hendrix contentedly munched on some tall grass nearby, totally oblivious to the absolute cluster fuck going on in my head.
I was stunned. Thunderstruck. I could not believe what had just happened to me.
I had to go back to the stables eventually. I couldn’t hide out here all day. That was ridiculous. What kind of man hid from a cute little girl? Cute was the wrong word. She was gorgeous from head to toe. But still, she was a little girl. She was more than half a foot shorter than me.
This man did, I realized. Me. One hundred percent me.
I couldn’t stay out here and try to get my emotions under control. That could take hours. Days, even. I had to get to work. But I was terrified of what might happen. I didn't know what to say or do around her. Something inappropriate, I was sure. What if I grabbed her and kissed her against her will? Saying or doing something flat-out obscene was a definite possibility.
I’d never felt like this before. I'd never been unsure of myself before. Not even for a fucking second. It wasn’t fun. It was excruciating.
And yet . . . my whole body was thrumming with excitement. Something warm and expansive was happening in my chest. The world felt alive with possibility.
Man up, Nick. The girl won’t bite. Not unless you’re very fucking lucky.
I grabbed Hendrix's reins and started back. I’d gone further than I thought. I was almost at the edge of the property.
Nice, Nick. You really are a pussy.
There was no sign of Melissa as I took Hendrix back to his stall. I couldn't help it. I was disappointed. I'd been fighting the relentless urge to get another good look at her. Maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe she wasn’t everything I’d dreamt about and more. Maybe seeing her wouldn't be like a shot to the gut. I was probably overreacting because I hadn't been attracted to anyone in so long. That was it. It was just a fresh crush when I didn’t usually get them.
They called me ‘Nick the Nun’ for a reason.
Working two jobs, visiting Hendrix, and my duties at the club took up a lot of time. And trying to save up to save the farm was taking up so much energy. I didn't have time for more than a couple of beers with the guys on a weekend between my two jobs and Hendrix. I’d go over to Jack’s woodworking studio every chance I got to work on learning as much as I could. I was learning to make furniture, but it would all come in handy when I got the family farm back. Lord knows, the place was starting to fall down after being left empty for so long.