“You know horses can sense fear, right?”
I aim a cutting glare her way, one she doesn’t see from slightly in front of me. My fingers grip the reins for dear life as Pippa leads us up the mountain on horseback. I squeeze the horse’s haunches with my thighs, trying not to fly off as we climb the mountain.
“I’m not scared,” I state, well aware of the hesitant tone in my voice. I’m a man that’s all about control in all aspects of my life. There’s no one who can do things better than I can. So putting my life in the hands of a horse that could throw me off the side of a mountain isn’t exactly my idea of a good time.
It’s not the horse I fear. It’s giving up control.
“We’re almost up to the last part, and then it’ll be smooth sailing, cowboy.” The word cowboy is said sarcastically, so sarcastic that she giggles to herself. I’m sure if she wasn’t right in front of me, I’d see a satisfied smirk on her face.
“I’ll give you a win for the art fair,” I yell, white-knuckling what Pippa told me is a “saddle horn” as the horse jumps over a log in its path. “But being in the middle of nowhere on a fucking horse is not making me fall in love with this town. In fact, it reminds me of all the things I don’t enjoy about small towns.”
Pippa and her midnight horse come to a stop at the beginning of a clearing, the ground underneath us finally flat once again.
“Give me ten more minutes, and you’ll see what I mean about the best view.”
My horse, whose name is Rebel, doesn’t give me ease about putting my life in his hands and leans down to munch on the grass below his hooves. I loosen the reins a fraction, giving him the space to have a snack. It allows my thighs a chance to rest after they just spent forever clutching the sides of him so I didn’t tumble down a mountain.
“You know, I’m second-guessing agreeing to your stupid little deal.”
“I told you I didn’t want to do it. I had to make you miserable if I was going to agree to it.”
All I do is grunt, pressing my heel into Rebel’s underbelly when Pippa guides her horse forward again. I’m definitely miserable for a multitude of reasons.
Giving up control.
Not working when I have a thousand things to do.
Wearing these stupid hand-me-down clothes that make me feel like I’m wearing a cheap-ass cowboy costume.
Watching Pippa’s strong thighs straddle the horse, knowing what she’s hiding underneath her jeans. The image of Pippa in nothing but that skimpy lingerie will forever be burned in my mind. I can’t get rid of it, no matter how hard I try. I’ve thought of countless different ways I could rip that lace from her body so every perfect bare inch of her skin would be on display. I’m not proud of imagining what her ass looked like in the lingerie. I’m sure it left little to the imagination, and I can’t deny how bad I wish I’d seen the view. There’s not a doubt in my mind that seeing the bare curve of her ass would be my undoing. I’d love to see that scrap of fabric settled between her ass cheeks as I put a perfect palm print on them.
My cock stiffens in my jeans. I hate it. It’s just another reminder that I’ve lost control. My body is betraying me by wanting her—but how could I not? She’s beautiful—there’s no way I could ever deny that—but she drives me insane. She’s everything I hate—uncontrollable chaos. Yet, I’m aching to have one little taste of her wild side. She’s so incredibly tempting, and she doesn’t even know it. At least she doesn’t know how tempting she is to me. I’m trying to hide it, but seeing her in lingerie, wondering what other man has laid eyes on a body that deserves to be etched into stone, was where all of my careful control snapped.
I didn’t care if she knew I was jealous.
But with more space between us, I can’t help but hate myself a little for wanting her the way I do—for being so tempted by her. By knowing that if she looks at me with lust instead of anger one more time, I might prove to the both of us that I don’t have to like her to worship every inch of her body.
“Hello!” Pippa yells, catching my attention. She’s turned around in the saddle, staring at me with expectant eyes.
“What?” I snap, hoping she didn’t catch me trying to adjust myself. Having a boner in a saddle is one of the worst things I’ve experienced. Every time the horse moves, even just by an inch, my straining cock hits the saddle horn. It’s safe to say I don’t see the appeal of horseback riding. This is uncomfortable as hell, and so far, the only view I can focus on is Pippa’s round ass in the saddle—something I have no right looking at.
Pippa’s sultry smile about does me in. I wonder if she has any idea how much she’s fucking with my head. “Are you ready to fall in love with Sutten?”
“No,” I bite. I’m ready to get the hell out of Sutten, as a matter of fact. I’m ready to get away from her and all the shit she’s doing to my head. I’m not someone who gets distracted, and I refuse to become one when it comes to her.
Pippa shrugs, guiding her horse forward. “I’m going to show you anyway.”
She’s too far ahead to hear the angry sigh that rips through me. I scowl, training my eyes on the back of her head so I don’t get distracted by her body once again. I’m so focused on keeping my gaze in a safe zone that I miss the fact that both of our horses have come to a stop, and in front of us is a view that makes me pause.
“Holy shit,” I mutter under my breath, looking at the expansive view in front of us. It’s so breathtaking it deserves to be captured in paint forever.
“It’s something else, isn’t it?” Her voice takes me by surprise. She’s no longer ahead of me; instead, she sits on her horse right next to me.
“It’s okay,” I lie. It’s one of the most beautiful views I’ve ever seen. Some of the leaves on the trees have started to change colors. It’s absolutely mesmerizing. I’ve been all around the world. I’ve seen a handful of the seven wonders of the world, but fuck, I hate that she’s right about the view in front of me.
It’s magnificent. A hidden treasure that not many people seem to know about except the people who live here. The trees paint a vibrant picture in hues of red and orange, mixed with a small amount of luscious green from the trees that haven’t quite accepted summer changing into fall. There are even mixes of yellows throughout the rolling hills. If I look far enough, there’s a large body of water nestled in between the trees. The top of the mountaintop behind it reflects in the water, creating a masterpiece.
If I could have some of my most popular artists come up here, they could create magic. The idea pops into my head without welcome. I shouldn’t want to return here. I shouldn’t want to bring talented artists here to capture the breathtaking essence in front of me, but I can’t stop myself from already imagining it. They’d never come close to capturing how perfect the view is, but damn do I know some really talented people who could try their best.
“What’s on your mind?” Pippa’s voice is soft, pulling me from all the different plans flying through my head. Even the kid I just met—Tommy, I believe it was—could create a masterpiece if he had the chance to come up here and paint the views.
“I can’t imagine what this looks like at dawn.” The words spill from my mouth before I can do anything about stopping them. My jaw snaps together as my head catches up with what I just said. It wasn’t at all what I was thinking—or was I? Either way, it wasn’t something I wanted to say out loud to her.
I still feel this immense need to act like the view in front of me is ordinary—even though it’s anything but. The expanse of land in front of us is everything, but I don’t want to let her know that. I don’t want her to know she’s right.
“It’s truly one of a kind.” Her eyes soften at the corners a little. It isn’t with humor. It’s almost as if her features soften with relief. Like she can breathe a little easier knowing I didn’t automatically bash something she loves so much.
We’ve bickered and fought more than I have with any other random stranger in my life. I should have no problem insulting the view she clearly loves—but I can’t do it. I’ve said some shitty things to her, but I can’t do it again. Not at this exact moment.
Because I understand what she means. I’ve seen the incredible craftsmanship in the architecture of Barcelona, the lake at the bottom of the mountains in Hallstatt, Austria, the Amalfi Coast in Italy with water such a vivid turquoise I wondered how it was possible for it to be so vibrant. I’ve vacationed in the French countryside and walked through rows and rows of blooming cherry blossom trees in Japan. My lifestyle has brought me all around the world, allowing me to see so many beautiful places. Little did I know the one I wanted captured in paint the most was one in a little town I’d never heard of in Colorado. And I never would’ve heard of it if my best friend and his wife hadn’t insisted on getting married here and forcing us all to join them.
“Is this where I say I told you so?” There’s sass to her voice as she climbs off her horse.
I roll my eyes at her. She absolutely could say that, but I bite my tongue so I don’t admit it to her. Instead, I look at the ground and anxiously wonder how the hell I’m supposed to get off this horse.
As if she can read my mind, she grabs my horse’s reins and holds him steady. She whispers things to him as I climb off—the whole entire process probably being the least graceful thing I’ve ever done in my life. Sports were never my life like they were some of my friends growing up, but I was good at them, and I did them because it got me away from a house I hated. I was fortunate enough to have been athletic without really having to work at it. But apparently, the years of lacrosse and the swim team at my fancy boarding school did nothing to teach me how to get off a fucking horse.
The moment my feet hit the ground, I almost want to kiss the solid earth beneath the soles of my god-awful boots. I’ve never been more thankful to be on dirt in my entire life.
“Was he so high-maintenance, Rebel Boy?” Pippa coos to the horse, rubbing between his eyes. “Did he just not know how to ride you properly?”
I grunt, taking a step forward only to find myself a little unsteady on my feet. Even with my feet planted, it feels like I’m still bouncing up and down on the horse. My thighs burn, and my cock finally feels relief to not be rammed against a saddle horn.
“What do we do now?”
If she notices my grouchy tone, she doesn’t say anything. Instead, Pippa reaches into a saddlebag on the side of her horse’s saddle. She pulls out what looks to be a handmade quilt.
My mind immediately goes to Gran, to the memories of sitting at her feet watching reruns of The Price is Right as she dozed off while embroidering quilts.
Pippa also pulls out a bag and a thermos from the saddle bag before she nods ahead of us. “Now, Camden Hunter, we appreciate the view.”
