I shove the last bit of horse manure into a wheelbarrow and wipe the sweat from my forehead. Amazing how the smell no longer bothers me. In fact, I don’t even notice it anymore, but the relentless heat wipes me out. I go and sit on a bucket beside Thunder’s stall. It’s so much hotter here than it ever was in Chicago, or even Los Angeles. I’m dying for a long, cool drink from the refrigerator, and a shower, but I know Lars is around and I dread going back to the house and risk bumping into him, so I stay in the humid barn in a funk of self-pity and cowardice.

The tension between Lars and me is so thick now you’d have trouble cutting it with a knife. I desperately want to diffuse it, but I don’t know how to handle the situation, which is unusual for me.

I always have a plan.

Maybe there is another solution, but I’m just too tired to think clearly. I hardly slept last night. Tamara called in the early hours and disturbed my sleep again. She was extra friendly, which made me even more wary and distrustful. She asked me a bunch of personal questions about Lars, but she mostly seemed to want to know how I feel about him and if he likes me back.

I’m not stupid, so I didn’t confirm her suspicions. I lied and told her I wasn’t interested and neither was he. I could tell she didn’t believe me, but the weird thing is, I also kind of got the impression that she saw it as a challenge and that she was plotting something.

She ended the call by reminding me that the terms of my contract mean I have to behave in a way that does not tarnish her reputation, so I am not allowed to sleep with anyone. There’s no one here I want to sleep with, I told her.

“Why is this so much harder than a regular job?” I ask Thunder wearily.

Thunder snorts and looks at me as if he’s contemplating my question.

I laugh. “You’re a really good listener, you know.”

Oh, my God, it’s happened. I’ve finally gone mad. I’m talking to a horse as if it’s my best friend. I stand, brush the dirt from my jeans, and stretch my limbs. The action makes me lean back into Misty’s pin. She neighs and presses herself as close to me as possible.

Aww…I do love her. I hug her and plant a noisy kiss on her nose. We’ve become really close. Because she’s so placid and easy going, I’m more relaxed and can learn quickly while riding her. I’ve practiced barrel jumps and a few other training techniques with her that I hope to use on Thunder once I’ve mastered them.

Giving her a last pat, I leisurely make my way toward the entrance. Halfway through, I come to a dead stop. Lars is standing at the entrance of the barn. The light is behind him and I can’t see the expression on his face.

“Finished for the day?” he asks quietly.

Unable to speak, I nod.

He takes a few more steps into the barn and I see the gleam of sweat on his skin. His clothes are dusty and his hands grimy. He has obviously been working on the land. He takes his hat off and runs his hand through his hair. Motes of dirt slide from the dark strands and fly in puffs away from him.

He scowls, looking at the fans that whirl above each of the horse’s stalls. Chance told me that it’s important to keep the horses cool, but even the fans are simply stirring the blistering air.

“Why is it so hot?”

“It’s Montana,” I say with a slight smile.

He returns my smile, which makes me feel better. Maybe it will be all right between us. “Montana’s summers aren’t usually one-hundred and five degrees at dusk.”

“Emma Jean was telling me about a pond beside the cow pasture,” I say, rubbing the sweat from my own forehead.

His eyebrows rise. “You want to swim in there?”

If he is feeling anything like me, he must be looking forward to that refreshing body of water just waiting there. “I’m game if you are.”

“Sure you don’t mind swimming with fish and cow manure?” he asks, watching me to gauge my reaction.

“After these past two weeks, I would be ashamed of myself if a little shit scared me away. As for swimming with fish, I can handle that.” I laugh. “It’s just like swimming in a lake or the ocean, right?” Not that I have ever swum in the ocean, but I took a dip in the Chicago River a few times as a kid.

His lips curve and his eyes dance mischievously. “I’m always game, cupcake.”

He has no right, no goddamn right to be so gorgeous. I put out a hand. “Truce.”

He covers the space between us in three strides and puts his hand into mine. Our grimy hands touch. A thrill runs up my arm and his eyes become hooded. I retract my hand as if burned.

“Let’s go,” he says huskily.

Outside, the sun is beginning to set, but the sky is still lit with an assortment of bright colors. The scenery is beautiful in an innocent, simple way. The field looks recently mowed and hay lays on the ground in stripes. We walk together, not touching, but every nerve in my body is vividly aware of his next to mine. As we near the pond, I see a large oak, branches sticking in every direction, growing beside it. The setting sun makes the surface of the water glimmer. The top layer is probably as hot as the air around us, but the depths will surely be cooler. I bounce a little in between my steps and halt at the water’s edge.

I turn to look up at Lars. “Do we just hop in?”

He gazes into my eyes with an indecipherable expression. Then he shakes his head slowly and steps away from me. Maintaining eye contact, he peels his shirt over his head and hangs it on a branch of the tree. I stare at his abdomen in shock. His abs are toned and his midriff is twice as wide as mine, but he’s all muscle.

He bends down and takes off his boots. While I watch wide-eyed, he unbuttons then unzips his jeans and yanks them down his big thighs. My eyes veer to his boxers. They cover him far more than a bathing suit would, but I feel my temperature rising.

In nothing but his boxers, Lars walks into the water until it covers his stomach. He waits for my move.

“Shit,” I whisper under my breath. Can I do it? I know that if I do this, it will show him how I feel in a way that words can’t.

I take a deep breath. I want to do this. Keeping my eyes on the ground in front of me, I tug my shirt over my head and hang it on the same branch that he hung his. Thanks to Tamara, I’m wearing a lacy pink bra and matching panties. If it weren’t for her undergarment choices, I would be dressed in a sports bra and granny underwear.

I lift my eyes cautiously to find him staring at my chest. Bending from the waist, I peel my sweat drenched jeans from my body as smoothly as possible, but obviously, nowhere near as seductive as his stellar performance. I leave my jeans in the loose dirt and take a step into the pond. As I suspected, the water is warm on the surface, but as I get deeper, it is shockingly cold. Goosebumps spread across my body. I suck in a breath of sweltering air.

Despite the coldness of the water, I continue walking toward Lars until I am standing chest to chest with him. I’m down to my bra and underwear and he’s in his boxers, but I can’t help the need to outdo him. I bend my knees so I am neck deep underwater, reach around my back, and unclasp my bra.

Lars can’t yet see what I’m doing, but his eyes are full of a feral hunger. Once I hold my bra above the water and drop it beside me, our taunting game is over. I know what’s coming before he reaches with both hands for me. Nothing can stop this moment from happening—neither man nor animal. Being close to him is a long overdue necessity,

In one fluid movement, he lifts me out of the water and holds me up higher than his head while he stares at the water sluicing off my naked breasts. With a strangled groan, he presses my freezing body against his. Our lips are centimeters apart and we share the same breath. I want him closer than he is even now, and I can’t help pressing into him as tightly as I can. He feels big; shockingly big, hot, and hard.

My breathing is heavy and his mimics mine. Suddenly, his lips crash into mine, rough and possessive. I follow him blindly, allowing his tongue to penetrate my lips and his hands to massage my breasts. I wrap my legs around his abdomen and my fingers become claws that rake through his hair. A sound emanates from the back of his throat and I tug at his hair, unable to control my reaction to his hot mouth devouring mine.

I don’t know how long we remain in that position; closer than I would have thought it possible for two human beings just greedily eating at each other’s mouths.

I never want to let him go, but he begins pulling away and I allow a small sliver of distance to form between us. My breath comes in shallow, fast pants, and my lips feel swollen and hot. There is a needy pulsing between my legs. The coolness of the water invades the heated space between us, and I realize what we are doing.

In Lars’ silvery eyes, I see nothing but raw emotion, the pupils so enlarged they make his eyes appear almost black. In the space between us, I feel him wiggling around beneath the water. When he holds his boxers above the water, I reach for my panties. Peeling them off effortlessly, I hold them up. I see him take a sharp breath.

With a triumphant smile, I fling the scrap of material away.

Slowly, much slower than before, he reaches for my body. His eyes depict a serious warning that I should take heed, but I don’t. Instead, I lean eagerly toward him. I think he is going to kiss me again, but he avoids my mouth and goes for the base of my throat, peppering barely felt kisses all the way to my ear. When he reaches my ear, he takes the lobe between his teeth and bites down, and I shake like a leaf, almost unable to hold myself on my two feet.

I pull back and whisper. “What now?”

His hands grab my waist and pull me against him—close enough for me to feel all of him press into me. His cock jerks impatiently against my belly. “I’m going to spread you open and make you mine. I’m going to sink so deep inside you, you won’t be able to walk for days,” he whispers thickly into my ear. “Not yet. But soon. Very soon.”

With a growl, he turns away from me and exits the water wearing nothing but his dignity. I watch him dress.

“Come on out. I won’t watch,” he says, turning away from me and giving me the opportunity to come out of the water and dress without being seen.

I can’t decide if I want him to be a gentleman, or if I’d rather he watch as I exit the water. Either way, I leave the water, leaving my bra and underwear at the bottom of the pond, likely never to be seen again. The water laps around my knees when he turns around. I freeze. His chest heaves up and down and his eyes glow with a fierce hunger.

‘You said you wouldn’t watch.”

“Why wouldn’t I look at what’s mine?” he asks.

I take the last few steps to dry land and dress quickly. Then I follow him back to the horse barn, neither of us speaking, as if nothing had happened.

But something did happen, and I can’t help but feel as if this is the turning point of our relationship.