Page 19 of Saddled in Secrets (Cloverleaf Meadows #2)

M y bare feet slap against the floor as I pace the length of the kitchen again. The wood is going to groove at this rate. I can’t be bothered to care, not when the clock is mocking me.

It’s almost ten o’clock in the morning and there’s still no sign of Bianca.

Force of habit had me checking on her once or twice, just to make sure she wasn’t tying her bedsheets together or anything.

Her bubble of chaos was activated on the last peek to give proof of normalcy.

The shower turned on an hour ago, but she stayed upstairs.

Panic gnaws at me while I wait for her appearance.

Yesterday changed our status, which was very much on purpose.

Last night, on the other hand… Fuck, that was an unexpected twist. Sweat instantly slicks my palms while I recall the sultry grind of Bianca’s naked hips.

She wanted me to soothe that desperate ache and I rejected her like some sort of lovesick saint. I hang my head, cursing my own name.

The uncertainty of where we stand now is a toxic puddle I’m stuck in.

Bianca is probably fuming. I can withstand almost anything except her silence.

That’s a torture I can’t endure again. She can poke fun at my one-sided feelings.

Tease me for protecting her. Force us to remain platonic.

Ridicule me for abstaining from sex regardless.

It doesn’t matter what she says. She just can’t ignore my existence.

Silence surrounds me in response. The knot in my gut grows until I’m forced to stop pacing. Rather than break down her door and demand she speak to me, I grab my phone to text Brody.

Me: What’s the latest?

Brody: The wife demanded we stop by for a visit. Bianca put it in her head.

My stomach drops. Not the update I was looking for.

Me: Whenever you want. There’s plenty of space.

Brody: I’ll keep you posted. Too much shit to do around here.

Me: Any trouble?

Brody: Nah, town is quiet.

Which is good, but suspicious. I scrub at the thick stubble on my jaw.

Me: Any rumors?

There’s a long pause. Probably pissed him off right along with his sister. It’s not like he gives a shit about gossip. But thanks to me, his family is involved too.

Brody: Paisley just told me a woman was asking about you at the farmer’s market.

Me: What woman?

Brody: How the fuck should I know?

The creak of hinges followed by footsteps distracts me.

Bianca descends the stairs in a skip that I feel in my chest. The energy instantly lifts with her chipper approach.

Her lilac scent is fresh, wafting over to me like a peace offering.

When she smiles at me, every worry washes away and I can breathe.

“Rise and shine,” she chirps.

I sag into the oversized kitchen island. “Hi.”

“Holy shit.” Bianca slams to a halt near the fridge. “Are we expecting company?”

My mouth slides into a frown. “Brody didn’t say when they’re coming.”

Her forehead creases before she waves at the large surface currently keeping me upright. “That’s a feast for a whole family.”

It’s only then I remember there’s an assortment of food cluttering the counter. “Thought you’d be hungry.”

She creeps forward to inspect the options. That gives me a moment to openly study her. A thick braid hangs over one shoulder, still damp from the shower. Another burst of lilac greets my deep inhale and I’m intoxicated all over again.

After a pleased rumble, my hooded gaze sweeps over her face.

She doesn’t have a stitch of makeup on. I stare at her flawless skin, itching to feel the satin on my calloused palm.

Her tight jeans and pink shirt are last for me to admire, but definitely not least. The standard riding outfit tells me that we’ll be headed to the barn after breakfast.

“Hello?” Bianca waves a hand between us.

I’m slapped back to reality as if I snapped the elastic on my wrist. “Huh?”

“Did you get all this delivered somehow? Or did you leave me unguarded”—she gasps dramatically on that word—“to grab takeout?”

“I cooked.”

“No way,” she blurts.

The urge to grin twitches my lips. “Want to check the dishwasher? I can pause the cycle.”

“You know how to make”—her gaze scours over the brunch items—“Eggs Benedict?”

My shoulders straighten at the awe in her voice. “There are fluffy biscuits with extra creamy gravy too.”

Her jaw drops. “Who are you?”

“Yours,” I answer automatically.

Bianca studies me for several seconds. “Quite impressive, Stalker. I’ll need to confirm it’s edible before making a final judgment on this grand gesture.”

“Can I fix you a plate?”

“I can do it.”

“So can I,” I insist.

“Okayyyy.” She gives me a strange look as if I’m not making sense.

“Take a seat.” I lift my chin at the table surrounded by six chairs.

When she chooses to sit next to the window, I almost smile again. I arranged it this way very specifically and she just rewarded my efforts. Bianca loves a spot with a view. The seat she picked offers an unobstructed shot of the daisy gardens I planted for her.

Instead of getting caught gawking, I get busy piling all of her favorite breakfast foods onto one plate.

It’s complete chaos—just the way she loves it.

The dish is almost overflowing when I set it down in front of her.

Bianca breathes in the unmistakable aroma of bacon and savory satisfaction.

I retrace my steps to fill a mug with hazelnut coffee, grabbing a glass of sparkling orange juice in the other hand.

She blinks at the full picture. “This might be the most delicious sight I’ve ever seen.”

I scoff. “No need to lie.”

It’s not a secret she was raised in luxury. She probably has a list of personal chefs on speed dial. I can’t even imagine the gourmet meals she’s had.

But Bianca huffs right back at me. “I can smell the care that went into every morsel. That makes all the difference.”

There’s a clench in my heart and I spin around before saying something sappy. After grabbing myself a cup of coffee, I sit a few chairs away from her. It’s where I get my favorite view.

“Why are you so distant, Stalker?” Her stare targets me like heat-seeking missile.

“Wasn’t sure I’d be welcomed closer.”

When she smiles, her eyes twinkle. “Why wouldn’t you be? I’m surprised you aren’t parading around like a proud peacock.”

“Not my style.”

“Should be,” she argues. “You’re somewhat responsible for the multiple orgasms I gave myself.”

“Fuck,” I grunt through clenched teeth.

She preens after getting the desired reaction from me. “And if that’s not enough, you’re definitely responsible for this spread about to fill my belly.”

“You haven’t tried it yet.” My tone is slightly perturbed.

She glares at my absent plate. “Did you eat already?”

“This isn’t about me.”

“You’re just going to sit there?”

My heart beats wildly, desperate to connect with hers. “And watch you.”

“Mhmm, sounds familiar. If you’re trying to butter me up, this is the way to do it.” Which could stroke my ego to distraction, but then her stomach grumbles.

“Eat,” I command.

“Yes, sir.”

And just like that, my cock raises to half mast. The throb pulses stronger when she spears a piece of French Toast. I’m transfixed by the simple motion of her lifting the fork to her mouth. When her lips part, I have the irrational instinct to snatch the utensil from her grip and feed her myself.

“Ohhhhhhh.” Her lashes flutter and she slumps deeper into the chair. “Yummmm.”

I relax in my own seat. “You like it?”

She chews slowly as if savoring the bite. “Gosh, yes. Passes the inspection with flying colors.”

“Thank fuck for that.”

Her giggle tapers off into snort. “What would you do if I hated it?”

“Start from scratch.”

A forkful of eggs hovers in midair. “You wouldn’t.”

“Don’t underestimate my desire to please you.”

A muffled moan slips free when she shoves the bite into her mouth. “Keep this up and I might marry you by the end of the year.”

I freeze, not even daring to breathe. “Don’t say shit like that unless you mean it.”

She huffs and rolls her eyes. “I wouldn’t say shit like that unless I meant it.”

“Careful what you say next, Princess.” My body is tense and ready to launch across the space between us.

“Unless I flash a green light, you’re not going to maul me. Unfortunately,” she grumbles.

“Don’t tempt me.” After a warning rumble, I force myself to stay seated.

Bianca winks like a sassy brat. “Do you know your love language?”

“Not a damn clue.”

“I’m not sure which one this covers, but I think it checks all the boxes.” She hovers her fork over the plate before settling on more hash browns.

“Would’ve cooked for you a lot sooner,” I rasp.

“It’s not just the food. You’re very…” She purses her lips while searching for the right word.

Meanwhile, I scoot to the edge of my chair. A silent plea moves my lips as she finds it.

“Convincing.”

“Is that all?” I’m desperate for more.

“No, I’m beginning to realize you’re very complex. Much like my developing feelings for you.”

My dick is ready to punch through my zipper to reach her. “Gonna give me a chance, Princess?”

“Close to considering it.” She tips her head sideways. “What’s your favorite thing to eat for breakfast?”

“I’m not picky.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

My eyes lower to the mug in my grasp. “Toast and coffee.”

She laughs. “Easy enough. You can have tomorrow morning off.”

“You’re going to cook for me?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Toast is very basic and requires zero skill.”

“Might burn the bread,” I mumble.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Bianca squirms, but abruptly stops. A wince pinches her features.

I’m on my feet in the next second. “What’s wrong?”

She startles at my extreme reaction. “It’s just my back. Nothing major.”

My gaze scours over her, looking for visible injuries. “You’re sore?”

Her hip rotates in circles on the chair. “I’ll be fine.”

“Did you sleep okay?”