The guilt she felt for lying to him evaporated at the words “big mistake.” A whole lot of hurt took its place and made her temper flare. “Sure. Although friends don’t usually sleep together . . . unless they’re friends with benefits.”
His smile faded, and he opened his mouth to say something and then snapped it closed again. Finally he just laughed awkwardly like it was a huge joke. “Yeah . . . uhh . . . well . . . sorry.”
As she watched him disappear into the house, Maisy felt pretty darn sorry herself.
Sorry she hadn’t gotten a taste of Sawyer when she’d had the chance.
Chapter Five
“It looks like you’re feeling as ornery as ever this morning,” Chester said as soon as Sawyer stepped into the barn.
“Yes, sir,” Sawyer replied with a smile.
While his head still hurt like hell, a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He wasn’t going to be a daddy. He felt like he could breathe again. Although he’d still broken his word to Lincoln. He couldn’t forget that. Nor could he seem to forget the feel of Maisy’s firm butt cheeks in his hands. Or her sweet, hot center pressed against his stomach as she’d straddled him. And he wished like hell his concussion had lost those particular memories.
“You looked a little like a whupped pup when you got here last night.” Chester picked up a hay bale and hefted it into a nearby wheel barrel.
Sawyer hurried over. “Let me get that, Chester. You shouldn’t be lifting bales of hay.”
Chester stopped him with one look. “I’ve been hauling hay all my life. I’m not going to stop now. And you’re not lifting anything. You shouldn’t even be out of bed with that busted-up head.”
“I’m fine.” Besides a major headache and blurred vision. He grabbed another hay bale and tossed it into the wheel barrel. “I just needed a good night’s sleep.”
“You need more than one night’s sleep. And so does that little gal. She looked plumb exhausted this morning.”
Now that he thought about it, Maisy had looked tired. She hadn’t been nearly as feisty as she usually was. “She took a hard fall. She’s probably pretty banged up.”
“Which is why you need to talk her into staying here a few more days where she has folks to watch out for her.”
That was the last thing Sawyer wanted. Dealing with the memories of her was bad enough. Dealing with the real life woman was pure torture. Especially in a thin t-shirt that didn’t disguise the fact she was braless. He hadn’t been able to keep his gaze from the boob that wasn’t covered by the sling and the nipple poking through the cotton. He didn’t want to look at it every morning.
“She has friends in town who will watch out for her,” he said.
Chester glanced at him. “And you’re not her friend?”
Maisy’s words came back to haunt him. Friends with benefits. Heat speared through him—just as it had when she’d said the words. It pissed him off that his body was so eager to get back in bed with her after the scare he’d had.
A loud bang had both Sawyer and Chester looking at the stalls.
“That would be the horse you found,” Chester said. “He seems to be feeling much better now that he’s had food and rest. He wouldn’t even let me go in the stall this morning. Of course, he has reason to be fearful and a little ticked off after what he’s been through.” He shook his head. “If I ever meet his owner, I’m going to fill his butt full of buckshot.”
Sawyer understood how Chester felt. He was still upset over the condition of the horse. But the horse wasn’t theirs. “If the owner does show up, you need to keep your thoughts to yourself and your gun in the safe.”
“You aren’t going to let that horse go back to its owner, are you? I thought better of you, boy.”
“I’m not going to be arrested for being a horse thief. I’ll give Lincoln a call and let him know what’s going on. He’ll know how to handle this. And we probably should call the vet and see if he can come out and take a look at the horse.”
Chester snorted. “It won’t do no good to call that incompetent fool of a vet. He doesn’t know a horse’s ass from a hole in the ground.”
“I thought you liked the old guy that used to come out here to check on the livestock.”
“I did like Roy Miles. But he up and retired and some city slicker took his place who acts terrified of anything bigger than a herding dog.”
Sawyer laughed. “I’m sure he’ll get better with time. But for now, I’ll see if I can’t sweet talk Angel into letting me tend his wounds.”
Chester was right. The horse was feeling his oats this morning. As soon as Sawyer approached the stall, the stallion whinnied a warning and kicked the back wall. Sawyer kept his distance and spoke softly.
“Good mornin’, Angel. I hear you’re being ornery today.” The horse snorted as if answering in the affirmative. Sawyer grinned. “That’s okay. I understand ornery. Sometimes you just have to get out your frustrations.” He scooped up a handful of oats out of a bag and moved a step closer. “And I figure you have a lot to be frustrated about, don’t you, boy? You probably don’t understand why life has treated you so badly. But life is like that.” He slid up the latch on the gate. “Some folks seem to have all the luck while others don’t seem to have any.”
He continued to talk in a soothing voice as he opened the gate and slipped into the stall. “The only thing I can tell you is that luck changes. And yours just did. Yesterday you were in hell, but today, you’re pretty much in heaven.” He held out the handful of oats. But Angel wanted nothing to do with the peace offering. He snorted and looked about ready to beat Sawyer to death with his hooves. “Angel, my ass.” Sawyer said. “Demon is more like it.”
“Demons are just fallen angels who deserve a second chance.”
Sawyer glanced over his shoulder at Maisy. When he’d left the house to head to the barn, she hadn’t been sitting on the porch and he’d figured she’d gone back to bed. But it looked like she’d taken a shower. Her hair was damp and she’d changed her clothes. Damned if an image of her wet, naked body in the hotel shower didn’t flash into his head and cause his dick to beg for attention. It didn’t help that she still wasn’t wearing a bra. Through her t-shirt, he could see the outline of the perky nipple that wasn’t covered by the sling. He knew the woman owned a bra. A black lacy one. Why in the hell didn’t she wear it? How could he keep his libido in check when she kept flaunting her body?
Angel must’ve felt his agitation because the horse tossed his head and bared his teeth. Before he could take a bite of Sawyer’s outstretched hand, Maisy started singing.
“’Rock me, granny, in your rocking chair. Rock me, granny, like a big bay mare. Oh-h-h, won’t you rock me.’”
The words to the popular country song were all wrong and sung in an off-key voice, but Angel didn’t seem to mind. He calmed immediately, as if someone had shot him with a tranquilizer. After only a few verses, the horse moved to eat the oats out of Sawyer’s hand.