Damn if Emma doesn’t look amazing when her body is moving with the horse. The way she lifts her weight looks like she should be straddling my hips, not the horse’s midsection. Past her, I catch sight of Olivia, and instantly the excitement dies. Olivia, a huge grin on her face, is obviously enjoying the freedom of this new riding space.

While the extra land makes me nervous, I see what Emma is doing. She’s showing Olivia she trusts her. That she’s got this. That all her lessons and hard work has paid off.

It’s a shame when the time draws to a close and the woman and girl ride toward the gate side by side. I follow, feeling like a third wheel as they talk barn speak about the horses. But something about it, perhaps Emma’s easy treatment of Olivia, maybe the way Olivia is looking up at Emma like she worships her, something feels so very normal.

But it’s not, I remind myself. I’m here to get Emma’s ranch. I’m here to figure out a way to get her to sell. And I’ve been failing spectacularly. So I’m going to break out the big guns. If I get Emma to fall for me, I could marry her.

If I marry her, I could take control of her ranch.

If I have control, I could move her out and away. I could destroy the old house. I could segment everything into parcels. I could build my subdivision of condos. And Emma could live a lavish life. It’s not a bad thing. Hell, I could enjoy being tied to her, even. And if we wind up unhappy, well, divorce isn’t unheard of.

The only thing stopping me from moving forward is fear.

Fear of hurting Olivia.

If she gets attached, then everything ends in divorce, I’m not the one who’d be hurt. Hell, Even if it hurt Emma, she’s a big girl. She’d move on. But Olivia is my daughter. I need to find a way to handle things delicately. I need to find a way to protect her.

The drive home is silent yet again, despite my attempts to engage.

“You did great today,” I tell her, needing her to know I noticed her progress.

She says nothing, then surprises me. “Do you love Emma?”

Startled, I glance at her. “No, honey.” Her face falls, and I wonder what I’ve missed. “I mean, I like her. She’s nice, but love is…” I struggle to explain. How do I tell her I’ve never loved anyone? Not even her mother. Sure, I love her. I love my brothers. I love my mother, but that kind of love, the kind I feel for my family - my blood - that’s not the same thing she’s asking about. She’s asking about the kind of love between couples.

I’ve never had that. I’ve tolerated women. I’ve put up with their annoying habits. I’ve dealt with the bad to enjoy the tiny bit of good. I’ve lived through head games and mental torture. But love? Hell no. Not ever.

“Love is different,” I finish lamely, feeling like an idiot.

But Olivia seems to understand. “She’s not like mom,” she says softly, her face lit by the dying rays of the sun. I watch her a second as I drive the open, empty highway. She’s growing up. She’s too old for her nine year old self.

“I know,” I say, needing to acknowledge her.

“You can love her,” she says, as if her permission is the only thing stopping those feelings. And suddenly, I realize she is just my daughter. A child. A little girl who doesn’t understand love any more than I do.

I don’t know how to respond, so I don’t. I reach out and touch her knee, feeling an ache in my chest where my heart should be.

* * *

When we get home, Olivia disappears into her room and I take out my phone. “We need to meet up,” I say.

“Fine. When?” She sounds amused.

“Tonight. Let’s talk business.” We won’t be talking business.

Her tone doesn’t change, but I sense a shift in attitude. “Where?”

“Your place?” I ask. She’ll feel safer at home, I’m sure.

“I’ll be here.” She hangs up without saying goodbye, and I stare at the blinking call ended on the screen a moment before hurrying to find Sandy.

“I have to go. Meeting,” I say. She looks at me, unsurprised. It’s not the first time, nor the last, that I’ve had meetings outside normal business hours.

“Drive safe,” she says, and I nod. When I’m in the truck, I back out. Up in her room, Olivia looks down at me and I smile and wave. But she turns away, her expression unreadable. With a pang of guilt, I back out of the drive and head off into the impending darkness.

She’ll be safe. She’s got Sandy and Beau.

At the ranch, Emma opens the door as I pull up and park. My heart is pounding curiously as I walk up the porch, taking in Emma’s stunning beauty. Her golden red-brown hair is free, flowing down to kiss the small of her back. It’s got a bit of natural wave to it, and I want to feel it around my fingers more than anything.

Pushing the odd thought aside, I step before her, noting how her cat-like eyes are on my face. She’s serious. Her face is fresh-scrubbed, free of make-up, and yet somehow still breathtaking. Perhaps this nude look is more intimate than anything else. How many women have I seen totally scrubbed before I’ve taken them to bed?

None.

One.

Her.

“Kieran?” she asks softly and I realize I’m still standing here, staring at her.

But something in me takes over. Something primitive and hungry.

I step in and grab a handful of her hair. Winding it around my fist, I pull her close with my free hand. As my hand pulls on her hair, her head tilts back, her wide eyes meeting mine with a look that’s both sweet and scared.

Good.

She should be scared.

Her lips part and I kiss her. The little moan that escapes her fills my mouth and I trace her lower lip with my tongue. She’s sweet, ripe, like summer peaches and sunshine. My cock pulses, pushing against her with a desperation that’s new. I’m never desperate for a woman.

Then, her tongue meets mine, reserved, frightened, perhaps. But she’s meeting me halfway. Our tongues dance and I feel her body sag a bit as her silken hair tightens around my knuckles.

“Kieran,” she murmurs into my mouth on a sigh. My cock pulses again, painfully this time, and it’s all I can do not to push her down and fuck her right here on her porch. Our lips apart, slowly, clinging together as if held by desperation and need.

Her eyes are closed, her throat long as she gives a swallow and it shifts. She’s vulnerable, perfect, pale, a vision of sexy perfection as she stands here, barely on her feet in my arms.

My lips taste the skin of her neck. She’s still so sweet, like earlier when I’d pinned her to the wall of her house. Trapped between my head knowing I’m playing a stupid game and my cock, which needed to feel her warm, wet depths and the release of it.

Her eyes open slowly, as if she’s stunned. Those green eyes are clouded with lust that sends my heart into overdrive. I have to have her. Fuck control. I need her. I need this. Consequences be damned, I’m going to have her.