She studies me, interest replacing some of the teasing. “It’s six miles round trip, and the last section is steep.”
“I can handle six miles.”
“At altitude?”
“I live in Colorado.”
“You drive around Colorado. That isn’t the same thing.”
“Are you questioning whether I can keep up with you?”
“I’m saying I’ll decide after I see whether you can.”
I tighten my hand at her waist. “Friday. Tell me what time.”
“That sounded like another assumption.”
“Will you take me to the lake on Friday?”
Paige draws my mouth down to hers and gives me one slow kiss.
“I’ll consider it.”
I release her before consideration turns into another hour in her bed. “Lock the door.”
“I survived thirty years without you checking my locks.”
“Do it anyway.”
She rolls her eyes, but I hear the dead bolt slide into place after I reach my truck.
My phone buzzes in the cupholder ten minutes later. I pull into a turnout and pick it up.
Paige: Since you asked what I want, I want your mouth between my thighs again. Seven days is still unreasonable.
By Tuesday, Paige has learned exactly when I cannot answer my phone.
She claims the timing is coincidence. The three messages waiting every time Axel and I finish tensioning another section of fence say otherwise.
A cow snapped two weak posts along the west pasture. We’ve replaced them, but a hundred yards of loose wire needs tension before the herd can go back.
I hook the wire into the come-along, brace one boot against the post, and pull until the line between us straightens. My phone buzzes against my hip.
Paige’s face flashes through my mind, followed by her thighs around my head and the broken sound she made when she stopped teasing long enough to say my name.
“Eyes on the wire,” Axel says.
“I know where my eyes are.”
“That grin says otherwise.”
I secure the wire before I take a hand off the tool. “My grin isn’t saying a thing.”
“That one does. It’s obnoxious.”
Only after I lock the tension do I pull out my phone.
Paige: Have you decided whether Friday includes a repeat performance?