Phoenix Rising

I blanched, realizing I had people coming. People with cameras. I touched my cheek, knowing I was flushed red and splotchy.

The man had me so tied up in knots I'd forgotten a professional obligation. I shook my head. It was a good thing I'd taken to shaving and primping a bit more in the mornings!

"Oh lord— I forgot! My sponsors are coming!”

He grabbed my arm as I ran for the facilities.

"Where are you going, hellcat?"

"I need to freshen up."

"Fine."

"Fine!"

I ran to my car to grab my bag. Thankfully, I'd stashed the outfit they wanted me to wear in the back last week. My sponsors liked me to do little publicity stunts and photo shoots all the time.

This time, it was a clothing line.

Except, I wasn't going to be wearing much clothing. My face heated up at the thought of Clint seeing me like that. But then I tilted my head to the side. Maybe… this wasn’t an entirely bad thing, after all.

When I came out, they were already there. Clint was watching them set up with a frown. And then he saw me.

My stomach did a little back flip when I saw the look on his face.

He went from shock, to looking like he was drooling in about a heartbeat. The man's mouth was open. His eyes blazed fire across the stable yard.

I ignored him, savoring the look of pure male appreciation on his face. I put a little extra strut in my step as I walked across the yard. Of course, by the time I got closer he was frowning again.

I sighed. At least he looked handsome with a frown. He looked handsome no matter what he did. He did smile now and then. I wondered if I'd ever see him smile in real happiness, instead of looking like a damn shark about to eat a mackerel.

"What the hell are you wearing?"

I looked down at myself and back up at him.

"A bikini, silly."

"You are not getting on that horse in that getup."

I cocked my head, smiling at him.

"You're right, I’m not. I'm going to wash the horse."

His jaw dropped. Literally dropped. Clint looked as shocked as a Sunday School teacher in a brothel. Good. The blasted man was too calm by half. I tossed my hair as I walked away. I realized how much I liked making him uncomfortable.

“No time for that,” he protested. “We have to train."

I shook my head.

"No Clint. Today, for just a few hours, I have to work."

Chapter Seven

Clint

Turns out my Grannie was right. There was a hell, after all. And I was in it.

The damned woman was going to turn me to stone, or more accurately, melted hot lava. Lord knows, certain parts of me were already there hard as a rock. It was bad enough that I had to watch her bouncing around on a horse all day, wondering what she looked like in the altogether. But now— by God— now I didn't have to wonder anymore.

The woman was wearing a Goddamn itsy-bitsy teeny weeny bikini on that insane body of hers. Her toned flesh, supple skin and glorious curves made me feel like I was about to catch fire. I didn't know where to look. I tried to keep my eyes on her boots, but they kept traveling up those long toned legs of hers…

To make it even worse, the damn bikini was red.

It was like waving a red flag at a bull. An extremely frustrated bull who'd had just about enough temptation. This was more than I could take.

Course, I couldn't exactly run off and jump in a cold shower either. I was stuck here, waiting to resume training for the rest of the afternoon.

I sat there in my lawn chair, trying not to stare at the show. Lord knows every man in the entire stable was outside, tongues hanging out. I didn't blame them, but I hoped I didn't look quite so foolish.

Phoenyx looked like pornography in motion. Worse. She was a piece of literal art. That girl’s picture deserved to be hanging in a museum. I tried closing my eyes but the image was branded there, all tawny skin and lush curves.

I literally could not shake it.

I couldn’t shake her.

I moaned, adjusting myself. The woman was going to kill me. But I had a strange feeling I'd be smiling if she did.

Smiling, with a big ole hard on to boot.

She was chatting with the marketing people. Apparently, they liked to do guerrilla style shoots a couple times a month for their social media and other viral marketing.

Having an authentic cowgirl in a bikini was a pretty brilliant idea actually. Especially one that looked like Phoenyx.

Who was I kidding?

No one looked like Phoenyx.

She looked better than those air brushed swimsuit models in a magazine! I shook my head, resting it in my hands. I gave into temptation, pulling my brim low so she didn't catch my eye.