I turn to her and give her a raise of my brows, coercing her to squeak out a nod of agreement.
“We need to experience some real men out on the range. Observe real life cowboy in action.”
“I'm not gonna be responsible for princesses when I got work to do,” Shea gruffs.
Man he's a tough one.
“You don't have to be. We'll take care of ourselves. You coming, Modesty?”
Shea has already barged out of the room with Rafe on his heels. Modesty jumps up from the table to trail behind me. I can tell she couldn’t decide between coming out on a wild ride with me or staying behind with a room full of virility all alone. I won that toss.
Luckily we're both already dressed for riding and I happened to notice Shea checking my ass out on two separate occasion while I was standing at the buffet. He may have thought he was being surreptitious beneath the brim of his hat but he was wrong.
I still huddle close with the image of him standing in front of me wearing nothing but a cowboy hat with his birthday suit. It kept me awake with steamy thoughts half the night and when I came to at dawn, I was soaked between my legs and craving a real man to pull me into his arms and give me a good morning wake up call.
Not only is he powerful and well-endowed, I can just bet a man with his vintage pedigree knows exactly how to handle a woman. I'm more interested in learning how to be a great lover to a man, than in how to rope skittish cows. But anything that will keep me close to Shea Butler is worth trying.
He's still muttering to himself about looking after girls, as we follow him to the stables.
“Get these ladies a mount,” he calls out to one of the hands.
He himself goes into a stall and strokes his huge hand across the neck of an enormous horse. An absolutely beautiful beast, almost jet black and glossy with a long mane she tosses around in pleasure when Shea comes in. I almost feel jealous at the obvious bond between them even though I'm aware that a cowboy and his ride are inseparable. I only wish he'd trail his large fingers across the side of my neck that tenderly. I'd be tossing my hair and withing skittishly if he ever laid his hands on me.
The stable lad brings out a dappled white that he leads to Modesty. Rafe steps in to lift her up into the saddle and she clasps at his shoulder, laughing happily as he looks up at her. I've never seen Modesty so relaxed with a man. Maybe she feels safe with an older guy like Rafe, who must be somewhere around thirty, I'm guessing.
Then another boy comes out with my horse. He leans in and threads his fingers into a stirrup to give me a leg up. Shea appears like a force of nature and moves him to one side.
“I checked the buckles, she's all secure,” the guy tells him, almost affronted that Shea doesn't trust him and is checking the bridle.
“Never hurts to double check,” Shea grunts.
I wait behind him as he goes over every connection and watch his back muscles flex and ripple beneath his well-fitting shirt. He's wearing leather chaps, worn in with long time use and I'm once again mesmerized by his nice taut denim-covered ass, cupped by the hide. It's a standard protective item of clothing but I'm reminded of last night and his stunning hard buttocks strutting toward the stairs. I can't help picturing him standing here now minus the jeans, naked again but for the chaps and boots. Needless to say delicious shivers run up my legs.
“Ready?” Shea is looking at me strangely as I jolt out of my daydream.
The color flies to my face before I can get control of myself. Thank god he can't detect what I was thinking. I move over and place my hand on his shoulder, the other on the saddle and my boot in his palms. He lifts me like I weigh nothing, with barely an exertion in his huge arms and I throw my thigh around the animal.
As I settle my seat and let her get used to her mount, Shea stands beside me, one heavy palm on the horses neck, while the other lies casually on my thigh. The weight of his hand sends electricity rocketing up my leg straight to my core and I shudder as a series of sparking throbs run through me.
Chapter FIVE
Shea
I virtually knock young Giddings to the ground in my desperation to take care of Dallyce. I'm so possessive of her that even the idea some kid would get to feel the sole of her shod foot has me in a tailspin. It's crazy. She's not even mine and I don't dare take her as such. Totally off limits.
Then it hits me - the stable hand I'm calling a kid is around the same age as Dallyce. No wonder he's gawking at her like a wolf. He probably thinks he has a chance. And he may have. She ought to be with a guy like Giddings, a guy her age that can share the stuff she'll be into.
Hell, I don't even know what that is aside from horses and the land. And we're both into that. I know absolutely nothing else about her and boy do I want to. More than just how her hair smells and how soft her skin is in my rough old hands. More than whether she gasps or screams when my dick pushes into her sweetness. I wanna know what Dallyce dreams about when she sits in a rocker on the porch and watches the sun drop on the horizon. I wish to god it was me.