Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Rolling my eyes, I shook my head and headed in to grab everything I needed to go for a ride. Clay was far from old. If I had to guess, I’d say he was maybe in his late thirties or early forties. He’d worked on the ranch from the time I could remember, and his wife owned a bakery in town.
After I got Aurora saddled up, I started off from the barn and made my way to the trail that led to Maverick’s place. He was one of the few ranch hands who had his own little cabin here on the property. Most of the single guys lived in the large ranch hand quarters that Uncle Brock had built a number of years ago.
My father had the small cabin built just for Maverick when he realized what a gem he had on his hands. He’d told my mother they couldn’t afford to lose him, and offering him a place of his own was something they hoped would keep Maverick here for the long haul.
I had a feeling it was also because of what I’d learned about him last night. I’d asked my mother just this morning if she’d known about Maverick growing up in foster homes. She told me he’d briefly mentioned it just once. It had broken her heart as well. They truly did think of Maverick as another son. I suspected the cabin was their way of making him feel at home here.
As I rode up the trail, it opened into a large pasture area. I could see two of the horses Maverick had been working with were out to pasture and eating the dew-covered grass. The way the sun hit the drops of water, it looked like jewels had been sprinkled on the ground. I smiled when both animals looked up and watched as Aurora and I made our way closer.
Maverick’s truck, a Ford F-150, was parked in the driveway. For some strange reason, my stomach filled with butterflies. Was I being too forward by stopping at his place unannounced? I’d been here a dozen or more times when I’d come to check on a horse’s progress, but never on a more personal level. Come to think of it, I’d never come alone, either.
I pushed away the sudden nerves and stopped when I got to the gate of the fenced-in pasture. “Want to say hi to the boys?” I asked Aurora. I’d decided not to put a full saddle on her, so it was easy to slip off the riding blanket and toss it over the fence. I slipped off her bridle and placed it over the blanket.
The two horses who’d been grazing were now watching our every move. The gelding flipped his ears back and forth as he watched me unlatch the gate to allow Aurora to walk in. Like a typical mare, she ignored the other horses and started to eat the moist grass. I watched them for a few minutes before I turned and headed to the front porch.
The house was quiet, and I paused. Maybe Maverick was still in bed. It would make sense if he didn’t feel good. Why hadn’t I simply texted him to ask if he needed anything instead of riding over here and possibly bothering him?
Another few steps closer to the door, and I raised my hand to knock—but stopped when another thought hit me.
What if he wasn’t alone? What if he’d hooked up with the bartender from the reception last night, and she was still here, and that’s why he called in?
“Shit,” I whispered. Now that that idea had occurred to me, it was all I could think about.
I went to turn to leave when I heard something on the other side of the door. It sounded like glass breaking. Quickly making my way back, I knocked loudly three times.
“Maverick? It’s Lily,” I called out.
The sound of footsteps approaching the door had me placing my hand over my stomach. What was wrong with me? Why was I so nervous? It was Maverick, for goodness sake. I’d known him for three years.
The door opened—and I sucked in a breath at the sight before me. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
That’s not true; what sounded like a moan slipped from my mouth as I stared at a bare-chested Maverick. A bare-chested, sweatpants-wearing Maverick. My eyes did a slow sweep of his impressively sculpted chest, down to the ripples of ab muscles and lower still, to the bulge that clearly showed the man was sporting a very nice…tool.
I closed my eyes and internally groaned. Tool, Lily?
When I opened my eyes again, I was still staring at his pants, so I shot my gaze up to see his light brown hair was a mess. Then I noticed his handsome face looked pale. Way too pale.