Rein In (Willow Bay Stables #3)(16)

Her body froze—only for a split second—and then melted quickly back into ease. “I had a bath,” she answered my curiosity, and with regret, my hand retreated back to my side.

She was wearing white flip-flops, and for some reason, the fact that her toes were painted surprised me.

It was a peach color that played off the way the sun had kissed her skin.

Something so innocent and private about it stung my soul, and I staggered backward.

My social skills were sorely lacking, and I felt the briefest of panic at the silence between us.

“Well, let’s load this bad boy up then.” She clapped her hands together, moving through the tension like it was natural to her.

I watched her hips sway as she wandered to the back of the truck, undoing the latch to let her tailgate down.

There was no way I could lift a bike that heavy into the back of her truck alone, and it pained me to think of staining that yellow dress of hers with the black grease that covered me.

As though she had rescued men on motorcycles a dozen times, she slid the plank of a two by four out of the bed, resting one end on the back of the truck and the other on the ground below it.

“Did your dad teach you to ride a motorcycle?” she asked as I rolled the bike up the wooden board.

“No,” I grunted, dragging it the rest of the way into the bed.

Her face fell.

“I never had a dad.” The additional words were given in hope of soothing her, but by the small intake of air through her lips, even a man as socially inept as me could see my mistake.

“I’m sorry,” she fumbled, slamming the tailgate back up as I secured the bike.

Running a hand through my hair, I stood looking down at her and shook my head. “Don’t be.”

She nodded quickly, walking back to the driver’s side.

I jumped down from the bed and yanked open the passenger door. She was already buckled in and waited for me to fold my larger frame onto the bench seat before she shifted into drive.

A country station filtered at a low volume around us, and my fists clenched.

She was still. It came easy in her heart, I thought. Just like the way her voice picked up the song on the radio and began to sing off-key as she drove.

There it was again, that burning in my chest as I watched her.

She was the reigning beauty of all the years I missed.

My heart on fire screamed unjustly and yet, somehow, I would never have robbed her of that. I was happy she’d had those years, even if I hadn’t.

“Why are you out so late?” I interrupted her stillness out of selfishness.

She smirked at the gravel in my voice, her eyes dropping to the dash that now read nine twenty.

“Chocolate cupcakes,” was all she said.

The drive back took hardly any time at all. I noted her walking calculations to have been a bit exaggerated but didn’t say anything.

She pulled into the parking lot outside the barn, and we both sat there for a moment as she killed the engine.

Her head turned in my direction, tilting to the side, and she smiled in a way that made the darker parts of me quiver.

“Will you help me carry these bags inside?” she asked.

Looking down at the floorboards, I saw two small grocery bags. I’d seen Aurora lift bags of feed that weighed as much as Glitch on a weekly basis, but I nodded.

We walked in silence up to the main house, but I stopped when I realized I wasn’t sure where to go. She moved around me, taking the lead, and I followed.

It was as if when I ebbed, she flowed.

She stopped just before a set of French doors that looked to lead into a kitchen. Her eyes dropped to the bags in my hands.

“Do you want a cupcake?” Her voice faltered a little, and it felt human. So human that I nodded.

The apples of her cheeks became rounder when she smiled and her smile, tonight, was directed at me.

She didn’t use her keys, the door was unlocked, and I followed her inside. Aurora moved around in the moonlight of the kitchen, the way a firefly does at night, and in a way it felt wrong not to stare.

I wondered how a God, if there was one, would let an angel like that end up so often in the dark with a man like me.

Finally reaching the far wall, she flicked a switch and we were bathed in light.

“Okay, pass me the sugar, please.”

I frowned and she pointed to the bags in my hands.

Setting them on the counter, I opened the plastic to reveal sugar, flour, eggs, and pretty much anything but chocolate cupcakes.

Ducking into a cabinet, she pulled out two large bowls and a tray with holes in it.

“You should never eat store-bought cupcakes,” she murmured into a drawer while she pulled out a measuring cup and a whisk. At least I was pretty sure that’s what it was called.

I pressed my lips together flat in order to fight the smile that pulled at my cheeks.

Setting everything up in a semi-circle around her, she used an elastic around her wrist to pull her long hair up onto her head.

My eyes fell to the way her chest rose and fell with each breath.

She was so alive.

“Rhys, the sugar.” Her voice broke the fight against my lips, and I smiled.

I started to pull items from the bags until my hands closed around a bag of sugar.

Her small frame leaned forward and took it from my outstretched hand but not before her nose scrunched up.