I knew it.
She clearly knew it too.
Talented didn’t begin to cover it. But there was a hint of recklessness that chilled me to the core. The kind that made a rider foolish. The kind I had seen before.
But she’d trained hard. I could see it in the lines of her back, the relaxed grip she kept on the reins, and the way her hips rolled gently with every move.
It was best not to spend too much time admiring those hips, though. I was already getting fired up. Her hair and those flashing eyes were enough to do it, without even noticing the insanely feminine package below the neck.
The girl was a certified boner factory. Sex on wheels. Pretty as a ripe peach and twice as juicy.
I was pretty sure she knew that, too.
So yeah, all that talent, training, and natural ability didn't mean she was going to be a pleasure to work with. Spoiled and haughty, and born with a silver spoon in her mouth and custom boots on her cute little feet.
She had swagger alright. And talent. But she was taking needless risks as she experimented with wild variations on standard moves. You were supposed to do that on a pommel horse, not the real deal.
The woman was going to get herself killed! I resisted the urge to spit. I'd given up chaw a couple years before I stopped smoking the hand rolled tobacco that had been my constant companion since high school.
But lord almighty, I could tell already that this woman was going to drive me to drink and to smoke.
Yep, I could already tell that she was going to be a handful.
Never mind the way that her worn-in jeans hugged a perfectly grabbable behind. A behind that would stop high-speed traffic. She had high round tits that bounced deliciously each time she landed on the saddle. And her long legs wrapped around that horse in a way that made my cock twitch and my pulse pound.
That long, silky red hair of hers just added to the already over-the-top feminine package. Her face was classically beautiful. Huge blue eyes, a pert nose, pouty lips that were sexy as hell and a stubborn little chin that somehow didn't detract one bit from her exceptional good looks.
She was a beauty, alright. And she knew it. Born to one of the most prestigious equestrian families in the world, she'd had it easy her whole life.
But she wasn't just a rich girl or a reckless athlete. She wasn't a flirt or a player either, from what I'd heard around. She was something even worse.
Phoenyx Delancey was a star.
And now she was my responsibility. I rubbed my eyes, wondering why the hell I had taken the job. I'd even signed the contract.
I squinted, trying to sort out what I'd been thinking at the time.
Oh right, I'd been drunk.
I was not a hard drinker, but I had my moments with the bottle. It was one of those moments, and her sweet talking manager slash attorney slash old family friend who got me into this mess. I shook my head.
JJ Ross.
I was going whump that old sonofabitch the next time I laid eyes on him. The old bastard was up to something, of that I was certain. He was overly fond of the girl, and saw her as a daughter figure, since her own daddy had passed away young.
I snorted.
Granddaughter was more like it.
At any rate, he'd been paying and I'd been drinking and here we were. Her, red headed and wild on a horse. Me, standing here trying to ignore the way her body moved around the aforementioned horse. JJ, probably sucking on a cigar and selling horses or timeshares or land.
Swamp land.
Phoenyx slid off her horse without using the block and walked it to the stables. She was gentle and respectful with the animal, which was a good sign. The first one I’d seen yet. I watched, transfixed again by the shape of her heart shaped ass. It was criminal to give a redheaded woman curves like that.
It was too much for a mortal man to bear.
I sighed and heaved myself off the fence.
"Guess you better go introduce yourself, Clint. You moron."
I ambled towards the stables in her wake, following the faint smell of her honeysuckle perfume.
Chapter Two