I’m giving Jenny another once over with the brush when my phone begins to ring. I take it out of my pocket and frown at it. I know what number. My lips twist as I consider whether or not to answer.

I step out of the stall and smile at Jenny and her little colt as I lock them in. With a quick touch of my thumb, I answer the phone, ready to deal with whatever is eating at Knight now.

“Emma?” It’s Olivia, and it sounds like she’s been crying.

“Hey, what’s up, girlie?” I ask, keeping my tone soothing and gentle as I talk to her. With slow steps, I begin to walk toward the house.

She makes a sound that I can only assume is a sob mixed with a cough and perhaps a hiccup that tells me she’s been crying her eyes out for a while. That’s the kind of stuffed up, icky feeling that comes with hours of uncontrollable crying. “Can I come live with you?” She asks, followed by the muffled sound of blowing her nose.

Oh, the poor thing. She sounds like she’s a mess, and I feel terribly for her. Whatever I have against her father, I can’t help but I do wish I could help his daughter. She’s young, and she needs positive influences in her life. And it looks like she’s turning to me to find one.

“Why would you want to live with me?” I ask kindly, wanting to really understand where this train of thought is coming from. I can’t help her if I don’t understand.

“Because dad hates me and I hate him!” She sounds furious, and I puzzle over what could have happened.

I’d told dad I hated him at one point. Hell, I’d been about her age. He’d refused to let me go out with my friends to see some new movie I can’t even remember the title of now. It seems like a lifetime ago, and I’d give anything to go back to that night again to fix it. To see him again. To hear him parent me. He loved me. He cared. Even when it didn’t seem like it.

But now isn’t the time to try to explain that to this girl.

“I’ll make you a deal,” I tell her, thinking fast. “If you get permission from your dad, you can stay the night.” I hear her gasp in joy and quickly add the caveat. “But I’m going to make you work, hard. You’ll work like you would if you were my daughter. It’s not fun. It’s dirty, difficult, and you’ll be really sore.” Inside the house, I click on the kitchen light.

“Really?” she asks, and I’d swear she’s holding her breath on the other end of the phone.

“Yes,” I say, knowing I’ve got her attention. “Having a farm and horses isn’t easy. It’s a lot of work. It makes you sore and tired. There’s very little time for fun.”

“It seems like fun,” she says, sounding more than a little unsure of her choice now. “I have fun when I’m there.”

“And I have fun when you’re here, but there’s a lot more mucking stalls and cleaning hooves than riding horses,” I tell her, hoping the fresh memory of the work she’s been doing is enough to give her further pause.

“Okay,” she sounds doubtful.

“But,” I say, needing to give her a silver lining. “When you grow up, you can own your own farm. You could hire people to do the work you don’t like, and you could do the fun parts.” It’s a pipe dream, but hell, she’s a smart cookie. I don’t doubt she could find a way.

“Why don’t you do that?” she asks, and I stop, startled by her candor.

Unable to come up with a good reason, I answer honestly. “I’m not sure. Maybe I like working hard. It keeps me from getting bored.”

“Hmmm,” She says, clearly not buying it. So I quickly steer the conversation back to her.

“So are you coming out to stay the night?” I ask, praying I’ve talked her down as I walk up the stairs toward my room.

“I don’t think so,” She says, her voice lower. She sounds tired, and I feel bad for her.

“Why don’t you go get some rest,” I tell her, “I’ll do the same, then we’ll see each other tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.” She sounds happier, and I feel an unexpected warmth rising up within me. We say our goodnights and hang up.

Is that what it would feel like to be a mom? Sure, it was a hurdle, but it wasn’t a bad one. Part of me wonders if I should call Knight and tell him what happened. But I also worry about getting her in trouble. No harm came of this, so there’s no reason to tell him, right? It’s not like she’s really running away.

If I actually thought there was a chance she still would, I’d tell him.

But there’s not.

Still, what would it be like to be a mom? Are there fires like that every day? I doubt it. Olivia seems very well mannered. She’s such a quick study and good girl, I find it hard to believe she’d be any kind of trouble. Something very bad must have happened to set her off tonight. Some silly fight between her and her father, no doubt. These things happen.

Knight seems like the kind of guy who’s quick to temper, anyway. He’s easy to fight with. I wonder if he’s that hot-headed in bed. What would it be like to be his wife? Would he be demanding?

I imagine he’s just a ruthless in bed as he is out. Someone that demanding in every facet of life has to be worse between the sheets. I wonder how he’d touch me. Judging by the glances he’s been throwing my way, the way he stares at me, he’s thought about it. Would he push me against something and just take me? Would he be forceful?

Excitement begins to bubble up within me and I run my hand down my chest. Under the thin shirt and confines of my sports bra, my nipple hardens and I let out a sigh and sink into my bed. With a little smile, I pull my shirt off and peel the bra off.

The warm summer air kisses my skin and I glance down at the delicate pink tips of my nipples. They’re quickly hardening to tight little pebbles. It’s such a sexy feeling to be sitting here, topless and brazen. My curtains are open. If we had any ranch hands, they’d surely be getting an eyeful now.

But I’m here, alone, with the thought of Kieran Knight’s icy blue eyes on me. If he were standing in the doorway right now, what would he do?

My imagination takes over as I swear I see him standing there.

“Take them off,” he’d whisper growl my direction, his blue eyes on my pants. Tucking my thumbs into the hips of my pants, I give into the fantasy. Whisking them down with little ceremony, I drop them beside the bed.

Giving a little spin, I catch sight of myself in my mirror. My cheeks are glowing pink and the tingle of excitement at my nudity rushes through me. Warmth tickles along my skin and I squeeze my eyes closed as a breeze kicks back the curtains and crashes over me. The sensation is almost too much and I drop back on my bed.

My fingers caress the gentle swell of my breasts, and I moan at the sheer pleasure. They feel warm and heavy in my hands, and tight from all the hours bound up in that damned sports bra. My whole body feels like it’s humming - glowing, even - and I enjoy the thought of him walking over to my bedside as he orders me to touch myself.

My fingers obligingly part the soft flesh of my pussy. The gentle graze of my fingertips on my clit brings a sharp moan to my lips. Still, I part the folds to really focus on that button of pleasure. I’m not in the mood to take my time.

I want this.

I need this.

Knight has been dominating my thoughts since he walked into my damn life. Might as well let him dominate this orgasm.

The thought brings every point of pleasure to life in me as I tease my clit. My free hand finds my nipple and I gently pull it, sparking a white-hot beam of pleasure straight to the heart of me. Fuck, this is amazing.

I imagine him parting my legs with his. He’s a powerful guy, I bet he’s fucking gorgeous under those clothes. Imagining him naked sends heat racing through every last inch of me. My heart slams so hard I feel faint as I imagine him covering me, lowering on my body like he fucking owns me. Because that’s the kind of guy he is; the kind who owns his women.

My breaths come quicker as my fingers work my clit harder. There’s no mercy with him. He’d lower his head to sink his teeth into my neck. There’d be pain, but there’d be pleasure. I cry out, the sound hoarse as my hips begin to buck into my hand.

I bet he’d be quick to enter me, too. No slow, gentle, stare into my eyes all loving like bullshit. He’d push home, fill me completely, as if I’m not whole without him, like he’s doing me more of a favor than I’m doing for him.

The thought brings a yelp to my lips and pleasure pushes me forward to that peak I know is coming. It’s too fast. I never come fast. This is a half-hour process on the best of days.

But the thought of him over me, his blue eyes narrowed as he tells me to come all over his cock, brings me to the brink and I hover there, certain I’m facing total destruction.

“This is my pussy,” He’d growl, reminding me he owns me.

And I’d agree, for the moment. If he could finish me, I’d promise him anything. Anything.

“Mine,” he growl, before his teeth scratched my jaw, before they nipped at my lower lip, before he kissed my chin.

The world shatters as my body plunges over the brink. White dots dance behind my eyes as pleasure crashes over me. The pulsing of my body feels odd as the fantasy of him over me, filling me, fades away to the clarity that comes post orgasm.

I push it back, allowing myself the pleasure that continues to lap at me like waves on the beach. But the self-awareness pushes back.

I just brought myself to an all too quick orgasm thinking about Kieran Knight.