Take the Chance (Top Shelf Romance #9) - Brittainy Cherry Page 0,237

away from her and started grabbing the remaining eggs, angry with myself.

This was a bad idea.

It was a long day.

As I’d suspected, Margot was clueless about everything and had a thousand ridiculous questions.

“So you don’t milk a male cow?”

“Why do you need an electric fence?”

“How big is an acre?”

“Are those goats?”

“What’s a CSA?”

“Why do you have to rotate crops?”

“Isn’t it weird to butcher an animal you spent all that time raising? Do you ever want to keep the cute ones?”

“So chickens lay eggs from their butts?”

I did my best to answer her questions, figuring the more she realized she didn’t know, the more likely it would be that she might decide she couldn’t help. But she learned fast, and by late afternoon, her questions grew more thoughtful, her hands steadier, her pace quicker. I found myself admiring her curiosity about the farm, her willingness to tackle any job I gave her, and the fact that she never once complained about the sun or the heat or the smell or the dirt lodged under her fingernails and caked on her fancy boots.

But the worst thing was the way I kept wanting to touch her. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d done in the chicken coop, and I stopped myself a dozen times from doing it again. What the hell was my problem?

Finally, I had to admit that for the first time since Steph died, I was seriously attracted to a woman.

It was almost a relief.

I wasn’t happy about it, but logically, I knew it was just a biological urge and I shouldn’t be too hard on myself, especially since her presence here was temporary. And who wouldn’t be attracted to Margot? She was beautiful, smart, and kind. And aside from her ignorance about life outside the bubble she lived in, she was nice to be around. She could laugh at herself, tried again if she failed at something the first time, and was actually really good with the horses. I wondered if she’d had experience with them.

“Do you ride?” I asked her when we were in the barn at the end of the day.

“I had a horse growing up,” she said, stroking the neck of the mare I’d been concerned about yesterday.

“Of course you did. Rich girl.” I couldn’t resist giving that braid a tug. What I really wanted to do was wrap it around my fist. Yank her head back. Kiss her neck.

Fuck. Stop it.

“Hey,” she said, pouting. “None of that. I did everything you asked today, didn’t I?” She looked so hopeful, a smudge of dirt on her sweaty forehead, I didn’t have the heart to shoot her down.

“You did fine,” I told her, giving the horse’s nose a little rub, trying to keep my hands busy. But my dick was swelling in my pants, as if owning up to my attraction for her had woken a sleeping beast. And the voice in my head would not stay quiet. I’d like to give you a little rub—right between the legs with my tongue.

“Thank you. And thank you for taking me around today. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.” How’d you like to appreciate my big hard cock in your pussy?

“And look!” She laughed. “I got my hands dirty!”

“Oh yeah? Let’s see.” I grabbed her wrists and turned up her palms between us, examining them. “Well, look at that. They’re filthy.”

She giggled. “All of me is filthy. I can’t wait to take a hot…” Her voice trailed off as she stared at my fingers circling her wrists. Then she looked up at me. Those blue eyes wide. Those pink lips open. That pale white throat beckoning.

I knew what I was going to do before I did it.

I knew it was a bad idea. I knew I’d regret it.

And I still did it.

Heart pounding in my chest, I pulled her forward by the wrists until her mouth was so close I felt her breath on my lips.

And I kissed her—lightly at first, my lips barely resting on hers, and then harder, my mouth opening, my hands sliding around her back, over her ass. I pulled her in tight against my hips, my erection trapped between us.

She looped her arms around my waist and rose up on tiptoe, pressing her chest to mine. Our tongues met and I tasted her hungrily, like I’d never get enough. It actually reminded me of the time Pete and I ate all the vanilla ice cream our mom had bought for Brad’s tenth birthday the day