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Sadie’s eyes widened as her mouth dropped open. Was there anything this guy couldn’t do?

She took a wide berth behind Gus to remain out of his kicking range and hurried to the gate. She unlatched it. As she yanked on it, her wet feet slid on the grass. Before she could catch herself, she ended up on her backside. Cold, wet mud oozed over her thighs.

“Gross.” Curling up a lip, she hurried to her feet and opened the gate.

Asher guided Gus toward the stable. Sadie closed and latched the gate. But then she found herself on the Quinn side of the fence instead of on Gran’s property.

She glanced at the cottage where a light shone in the kitchen and living room, then back at the stable that was illuminated in the darkness. Against her better judgment, she hurried toward the open door that beckoned like a beacon in the storm.

Stepping inside, she stopped and watched Asher rub a towel over Gus, then grab a stiff brush and run it down the horse’s gray coat.

Asher didn’t seem to notice her, and the cool night air coupled with her soaked clothes caused her to shiver. Maybe she should go.

She turned and eyed the rain.

“Stay.”

The single word, spoken softly yet deeply, rooted her feet to the dusty floor. Slowly, she turned back and found Asher moving toward her with long, purposeful strides, a towel in hand.

She swallowed. Hard.

Her heart thundered in her ears as he ate up the distance between them.

He stood in front of her, and his gaze roamed over her wet hair plastered to her head. She crossed her arms over the front of her shirt.

Without a word, he turned on his heel, strode to a small room, then returned with a navy hoodie. Then he jerked his head toward the small room. “Go into the tack room and change into this sweatshirt. It will keep you dryer than what you have on right now.”

She took the towel and hoodie and brushed past him, but he caught her arm. “Sadie.”

Again, the single spoken word filled her with a warmth that chased away the cold.

She lifted her eyes to his face. “Yes?”

“Thanks.” Then his mouth curved into the most alluring smile.

Oh, how she wanted nothing more than to close the distance between them, slide her arms around his neck, and press her lips to his.

Get a grip.

Nodding, she gently pulled her arm away from him, immediately missing the feel of his touch on her skin. Pressing the sweatshirt to her chest, she hurried into the tack room and closed the door. She pressed her back against the wood and shook her head.

What was she doing?

Rain or no rain, she needed to return to Gran’s cottage where it was safe. Because the more time she spent in Asher’s presence, the quicker her common sense flew out the window.

She struggled out of the soaked T-shirt and used it to clean the mud off her legs. Then, she dried herself with the towel and pulled the soft hoodie over her head. It smelled of hay, horses, and an essence she could only imagine came from Asher wearing it. She buried her nose deep into the collar and breathed deeply.

Even though she swam in the oversized sweatshirt, she appreciated being dry. She grabbed her filthy T-shirt and opened the door.

Asher used a wide broom and swept hay off the floor, the muscles in his back and arms cording with each movement.

She cleared her throat. “Uh, thanks.”

He straightened and turned, a slow smile curving along his lips. Then he leaned the broom against one of the empty stalls and moved toward her. As he stood in front her, he reached for the collar and straightened out the hood. “You look cute.”

She scoffed. “I look like a drowned rat.”

“Nah, I’ve seen drowned rats. There’s nothing cute about them.” One of his eyebrows lifted. “You, on the other hand…”