Southern Seduction (25 page)

“Hey, cuz.” May’s voice comes from behind me.

“Jesus, May, you startled me.” I take in a deep breath after my unexpected jump.

“Geez ... sorry,” she says quietly.

“Oh, no. It’s fine, really.” I give her a quick hug.

“How do you like it over here?” she asks as we break from our hug.

“It’s not bad. Mrs. Taylor is nice.” I turn back to the bed I was stripping. “I haven’t talked much with Mr. Taylor, but we did meet early this morning. Kip is interesting.”

“How so?” she asks me quickly in an odd, sort-of-jumpy way. I glance back at her over my shoulder. She immediately turns her focus to the ground. Why does she seem so nervous?

“Um ... I don’t know, May. He just seems a bit all over the place,” I say, continuing to watch her body language.

“Well, did he say anything was botherin’ him?” She looks up.

“Uh, no. Is he your boyfriend, May?”

“No!” she gasps. “No. God, no.” She laughs. You know ... that fake kind of laugh.

“I thought ... ” I start, but decide maybe it’s best not to say what I saw.

“What?”

“Nothing. It was probably because he was running late for the group of Scouts.”

“Oh. Yes, probably.” She gives me one of her meek smiles.

“Well, what brings you over here?” It’s time to step out of this strangely awkward moment.

“I was just headin’ into town and wanted to pop in and see how you were doin’. Do you need anythin’?” Raising her hand, she flicks her wrist with her thumb pointing out, as if this was a last thought before she leaves.

“No. I can’t say that I do at the moment.”

“Well, all right. I’m gonna get goin’. I wanna pick up a new dress for tonight.” She starts backing out the door.

“What’s tonight?” I grab the clean bottom sheet to put on the mattress.

“You know,” she whispers before nodding frantically, her eyes bulging.

“Oh, yes. Yes—that’s right!” Secret time with the secret boyfriend.

“Shhh!” May throws her finger up to her lips and shushes me in a way that almost looks like a mad spasm. I release a giggle. I can’t help it—her behavior is ridiculous. A small twinkle hits her eyes and, for some reason, things seem back to normal between us.

I mouth
Go!
to her as I push away the air in front of me with my hands.

“See you later, cuz!” She smiles widely and turns to leave.

“You better have a good story for me later!” I warn her as she heads out of the room. She just raises her hand above her head and waves goodbye to me.
I really like her.

It’s been five hours since I started my new job, and poor Alma (she was adamant that I drop the “miss” before her first name) has run herself ragged trying to find stuff for me to do. Finally, after I suggested it, she is letting me head down to the stables to see if I can help there.

It’s a beautiful sunny day. There’s a little kick to the wind and, if I close my eyes, I can hear the trees dancing with it. It’s one of my favorite sounds in the world.

I take my time and survey the atmosphere of the Taylor Ranch. It’s not overly fancy, but it’s nice. Comfort nice. Cozy-home nice. I remember what that felt like once upon a time.
A cozy home.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had one of those. I miss it—terribly. I pass the empty horse corral on my left and head over to the modest indoor stable.

“Wow!” I breathe. Guess it’s not so modest after all! The maple-colored wood is gorgeous. There’s a dozen extra-large stalls, six per side, and each has a sliding door and a divider with wrought iron bars across the top half. It is so clean, I’d eat off the floor.

As I walk past one of the stalls, I feel a nudge. I turn to find a beautiful caramel-colored horse peeking out. He runs his nose up my arm, sniffing and nibbling at me.
I’m in love.
When it comes to horses, it doesn’t take much.

“What is your name? Handsome or Gorgeous?” I ask as I slowly reach forward to rub his nose. It’s always important to let horses see where your hands are when you are in front of them. Most won’t let you pet or rub their face unless they know you or feel an instant trust. This guy seems to know I am in love with him already—or he could be interested in the apple I brought. I’d like to think it’s the first reason—until he hones in on the shiny fruit and graciously steals it from my hand. I watch as he turns and walks away.
I feel so used.

“I see you’ve met Lucky.”

I jump at the voice behind me.

“Didn’t your mama ever teach you not to sneak up on a person?” I turn and hold my hand to my chest.

“I didn’t realize I was sneakin’ up on you, Red.” Kip swagger-talks me. You know when a guy expects you to hang onto every damn word that comes out of his stupid mouth? Swagger talk.

“How could you not know? I’m turned away from you with no knowledge of your presence.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re pretty,” he blurts out.

“I’m sure Jesus is flattered,” I say straight-faced, then laugh as scrunches his eyebrows like he’s confused.

“This here is Lucky.” He nods toward the horse, ignoring my laughter.

“I gathered that from the first time you mentioned it.” I try to stifle myself. I’m a bit awestruck by him. He’s a good-looking (okay, great-looking—
whatever!
) guy with dirty blond hair and hazel eyes that are almost a light caramel-yellowish. Very unique. He stands, I’d guess, at six feet, which is perfect for me.
Wait…what?!
He’s very toned, like hardworking-toned, and tan, and toned. Oh, I mentioned that already. There’s something about him—about his behavior. One minute, he’s all Rico Suave, and the next, he’s fumbling over his words like a boy talking to a girl for the first time.
Odd.

“You wanna take a picture, Red? It’ll last much longer.” He pulls his bottom lip in and bites back his smile.
Shit. Was I really just standing here, gawking at him?

“Is he your horse?” I turn on my heel and lay my arms on the gate, peering in.

“Yep,” he says softly. I can feel the heat coming off of his body as he stands practically up against my back. My hair moves gently as his nose pushes against it. Instinctively, I close my eyes and hear him taking in a big whiff. He exhales in what seems to be a pleasant sigh. I should be creeped out by this, right? For some strange reason, unbeknownst to me, I am not. I even find myself leaning back against him a little. He slides his hands to my hips and my heart goes off like a ball in a pinball machine. “Jesus ... do you feel that?” he whispers against my ear.

“Yes,” I barely breathe.

“Shel, I—” he starts, but we both turn our heads to look down the corridor when we hear the door open.

“Kip! You in here, son?” Mr. Taylor calls out.

“Yeah, Pop!” Kip yells back, squeezes my hips, and lets go. I try to regain my balance, my sense of all things
me
. I watch as he heads toward his father.
What in the hell was that?

I bring my gaze back to Lucky and notice the stiff gait in his walk.
Hmm.
I slide the door to his stall open and walk up to him. Gliding my hands across his back with the slightest of pressure, I notice him shifting on his hooves when I press certain areas.

I stop when I hear the clearing of a throat behind me. “Red?” Kip asks.

“Why didn’t you take Lucky with you today?” I ignore the racing of my heart.

“He hasn’t been himself the past week. The vet’s comin’ out later today,” he answers. I hear the door slide shut. “Can we talk?”

I take in a deep breath and turn to face him. “Kip, I think Lucky would do well with a massage.”

“A massage?” He jerks his head back like he thinks I’m crazy.

“Yes. Do you not have them done on your horses?” How is that even possible? They run a
ranch
.

“Nope. We don’t do all that fancy shit here, city girl.” He smirks.

“Do you even realize how stupid your implication is right now?” I shake my head.

“Wow, do you even realize you’re speakin’ to your boss like that?” he bites back. My heart stops and my brain kicks into high gear. Yes.
What the hell am I doing?

“Right. Sorry.” I push my hair behind my ears. “Just ... uh ... just ask your vet about massages for Lucky.” I keep my gaze on the floor and turn to leave the stall.

“Wait.” He grabs my arm as I breeze by him. “I want to talk to you about before.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I have to get back to work ... boss.” I offer a fake, closed-lip smile and pull my arm from his grasp.

“Wait!”

“No. This is ... just stay away from me, please.” I look him straight in the eye.

“This is what, Red?” He steps closer to me.

“Not appropriate.” I swallow hard and try not to look at his lips. But then ... he licks them.
Damn it.
“Don’t call me ‘Red,’” I say as I try to keep my focus.

“It suits you.” He reaches up, gently takes a strand of my hair, and runs his fingers down it. “You have beautiful red hair and a hell of a lot of sass. ‘Red’ is the perfect nickname for you,” he says as he leans toward my right ear. “It’s also the color of your cheeks right now.”

“Stop! Just ... stop.” I step back from him and turn on my heel to leave.

“Shelby,” he sighs. I slide the door open and duck out without looking back.
What in the ever-fucking-loving hell?
Oh, I need to stay away from him. This guy is a player—for sure! Who tries to start up some shit on day one of meeting somebody? Nope. I know better than to fall for his type.
Yet ...
no! Don’t go there, Shel!

“Here’s your plate, honey,” Alma says as she sets it down on a place mat.

“Oh, I was going to eat at home.” I glance over my shoulder as I place the biscuit basket down on the table.

“Nonsense! I don’t trust that they’ll even feed you.” She shakes her head.

“They fed me last night,” I offer. Christ, I have avoided Kip for the past several hours—I do not want to sit at the dinner table with him.

As if on cue, Kip walks into the dining room, all dirty and sweaty.
Fuck. Dirty and sweaty looks damn good on Kip.
I try to shake my thoughts away. His eyes meet mine and I quickly shift my focus to grabbing the silverware caddy to bring it back to the kitchen.

After several minutes of trying to stay busy by wiping down counters in the kitchen, I hear someone clear their throat behind me. I can see in the reflection of the window that it’s Alma. I turn to find her leaning up against the doorframe that adjoins the kitchen and dining room.

“Well?” she asks.

“Well, what?”

“What’s with you avoidin’ my son?” She crosses her arms.

“What do you mean?” I ask nervously.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“Did he, um, say something to you?”

“He didn’t need to, darlin’. As soon as he walked in, your body language changed, and you couldn’t get out of there quick enough. Now, tell me what’s goin’ on?” She steps toward me.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t hand me that, Shelby. I’ve raised seven children; I can tell when one of them is lyin’ before they even think to do it. It ain’t no different with you. Now,” she lowers her voice and grasps both of my arms gently, “tell me what’s got you avoidin’ him like the plague.”

“I don’t really know how to answer you, Alma. I have my reasons, but the most important one is that this is my place of employment. I just want to do my job well,” I say. It’s the only information I feel comfortable divulging. She seems to study me for another moment before giving me a nod of understanding, I think.

“C’mon, let’s get some supper in you.” She pats my arms and squeezes before letting go.

“I’m just gonna head home.”

“No. You’re gonna have all three meals, every day, with my family. I don’t want any arguments from you.”

I open my mouth to protest, but then decide against it. Something tells me she’ll shoot down whatever I say. I’m learning quickly that when Alma sets her mind to something, there’s just no changing it. Instead, I follow her out to the dining room.

Quickly, the Taylors file in. There’s Mr. Taylor (Chris), Todd, Seth, Keith, and Kip. I’ve learned they had three girls after Kip—Chelsea, Katie, and Olivia—but they are all married off and in other states. I glance around the table and notice the plate Alma set down for me seats me next to Kip.
Of course
. I sit and make quick work of ignoring him. Certainly we must join hands in prayer, who doesn’t?
Fuck.