“Yes.”
“You shouldn’t be in here. This place is completely off limits. To everyone,” he growled.
The woman glanced around nervously and Riley told himself this was what he had to do. His mind was back in control. “What were you doing in here?”
She let out a quick breath, her eyes downcast. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips and his chest responded with a pang of longing that he quickly tamped down. He wanted her gone, not to give her encouragement.
“I’m a florist and the opportunity to see the greenhouse was too much for me to wait until tomorrow.”
He folded his arms across his chest and glared at her to shield his unwanted physical response, the clothing hanging by his side. He didn’t believe her for one minute. More likely she was doing what women do—finding the best way to manipulate men.
“Look, I just want my sweater.”
He tossed it at her. “Go, then. Go home.”
She frowned at the material, then at him, and a slow burn sizzled in his belly when their eyes met. She traded awareness with him, a soft pink rising to color her cheeks before she broke the contact and cleared her throat. She lifted the material in a salute and turned away. “Thanks. I won’t bother you again.”
“Does that mean you’re leaving tomorrow?”
She stopped mid-stride, then paused a moment before turning around. Her eyes, downcast and pensive a moment ago, now sparked with internal light and she dipped her chin, gazing up at him through her dark lashes. “No, not yet. I came all the way out here to meet a clean and fresh, handsome and charming cowboy. Know where I can find one?”
He almost grinned at that, but caught himself. He didn’t want her to be amusing. He wanted her to be irritating. “Sometimes you can find one advertised on the Internet.”
Her lips pressed together but not before twitching, and she gathered a lock of hair and twirled it around a finger. If they had met on the range or at a bar, her soft lips alone would have given him reason to do something about the aching pull in his groin. But here on the ranch with one of his sisters’ hand-picked wannabe brides was out of the question. Probably.
“Yeah, but you can’t always rely on truth in advertising.”
“So very true. No wonder my family has to raffle me off.”
Now she laughed, a light, musical sound that replaced an edge of the sadness in the greenhouse with life and his throat thickened, almost enough to make him gasp for air. He stepped away from her and became still, ignoring the flash of confusion that darkened her eyes. Enjoying himself in his father’s greenhouse. Flirting with a woman he had just met. He closed his eyes, suddenly tired, his treacherous body still aching with need.
The whoosh of the door sounded behind them. He grasped the woman’s hand and pushed her behind some of the larger potted plants and crouched beside her. “Down here.” His thigh pressed against hers, her body heat searing his leg through her pajamas
“What the…” The woman trailed off when Riley placed a hand on her arm, his fingers accidentally skimming the side of her breast.
Son of a bitch. A heady longing shot through him at the contact and he clenched his lips into a thin, straight line. “Stay here and stay quiet,” he whispered, but the command was clear. “When I leave, I want you out of here. Got that?” He slipped between the plants without waiting for an answer, leaving her behind, and approached the figure who had entered the building. “Cookie? You need something?”
“I saw the light on in here and wanted to make sure everything was okay.” The older man’s gaze softened when he studied Riley. “I don’t remember seeing you in here since you come home.”
Riley walked around him, a hand twisting the inside his chest. “I’m heading to the house now.”
Cookie turned with him. “I’m taking the truck to town tomorrow. One of your ladies wants to go to some girly craft store.”
Riley’s
“You shouldn’t be in here. This place is completely off limits. To everyone,” he growled.
The woman glanced around nervously and Riley told himself this was what he had to do. His mind was back in control. “What were you doing in here?”
She let out a quick breath, her eyes downcast. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips and his chest responded with a pang of longing that he quickly tamped down. He wanted her gone, not to give her encouragement.
“I’m a florist and the opportunity to see the greenhouse was too much for me to wait until tomorrow.”
He folded his arms across his chest and glared at her to shield his unwanted physical response, the clothing hanging by his side. He didn’t believe her for one minute. More likely she was doing what women do—finding the best way to manipulate men.
“Look, I just want my sweater.”
He tossed it at her. “Go, then. Go home.”
She frowned at the material, then at him, and a slow burn sizzled in his belly when their eyes met. She traded awareness with him, a soft pink rising to color her cheeks before she broke the contact and cleared her throat. She lifted the material in a salute and turned away. “Thanks. I won’t bother you again.”
“Does that mean you’re leaving tomorrow?”
She stopped mid-stride, then paused a moment before turning around. Her eyes, downcast and pensive a moment ago, now sparked with internal light and she dipped her chin, gazing up at him through her dark lashes. “No, not yet. I came all the way out here to meet a clean and fresh, handsome and charming cowboy. Know where I can find one?”
He almost grinned at that, but caught himself. He didn’t want her to be amusing. He wanted her to be irritating. “Sometimes you can find one advertised on the Internet.”
Her lips pressed together but not before twitching, and she gathered a lock of hair and twirled it around a finger. If they had met on the range or at a bar, her soft lips alone would have given him reason to do something about the aching pull in his groin. But here on the ranch with one of his sisters’ hand-picked wannabe brides was out of the question. Probably.
“Yeah, but you can’t always rely on truth in advertising.”
“So very true. No wonder my family has to raffle me off.”
Now she laughed, a light, musical sound that replaced an edge of the sadness in the greenhouse with life and his throat thickened, almost enough to make him gasp for air. He stepped away from her and became still, ignoring the flash of confusion that darkened her eyes. Enjoying himself in his father’s greenhouse. Flirting with a woman he had just met. He closed his eyes, suddenly tired, his treacherous body still aching with need.
The whoosh of the door sounded behind them. He grasped the woman’s hand and pushed her behind some of the larger potted plants and crouched beside her. “Down here.” His thigh pressed against hers, her body heat searing his leg through her pajamas
“What the…” The woman trailed off when Riley placed a hand on her arm, his fingers accidentally skimming the side of her breast.
Son of a bitch. A heady longing shot through him at the contact and he clenched his lips into a thin, straight line. “Stay here and stay quiet,” he whispered, but the command was clear. “When I leave, I want you out of here. Got that?” He slipped between the plants without waiting for an answer, leaving her behind, and approached the figure who had entered the building. “Cookie? You need something?”
“I saw the light on in here and wanted to make sure everything was okay.” The older man’s gaze softened when he studied Riley. “I don’t remember seeing you in here since you come home.”
Riley walked around him, a hand twisting the inside his chest. “I’m heading to the house now.”
Cookie turned with him. “I’m taking the truck to town tomorrow. One of your ladies wants to go to some girly craft store.”
Riley’s
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