Page 123
He takes one step toward me. Then another. The sunglasses come off, revealing eyes that burn with something I haven’t seen before.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” I hold my ground. “You talk a big game, Lukas. All thatI’ll ruin youbullshit. But when it comes time to put your money where your mouth is, you hide in your room like a scared little boy.”
His nostrils flare. “Careful, Rae.”
“Or what? You’ll threaten me again? Add it to the list of shit you’ve promised and then been too chickenshit to follow up on.” I laugh right in his face. “Can’t even take a girl on a damnhorse ride.”
Lukas’s face is roiling with tension. Even with his thick beard, I can see all the anger twitching under the surface of his skin.
“Fine,” he says at last. “You want your fucking pony ride? Let’s get it over with.”
He pulls out his phone and fires off a text, then shoves it back in his pocket.
“The pilot will wait.” He turns and starts striding toward the back of the house, toward the path that leads to the stables. “Move your ass, Rae.”
I scramble after him, my sandals slapping against the flagstones as I struggle to keep pace with his long, furious steps. Themorning sun is far hotter than it was yesterday, baking the vineyard into a shimmering haze of ash and brown.
The stables are tucked behind a grove of olive trees. It’s a beautiful structure. Weathered stone walls, a terracotta roof, the whole rustic French countryside fantasy.
By the time I step inside, Lukas is halfway through preparing the biggest horse in there. He’s pulling straps, adjusting stirrups, some other horse stuff I don’t know the first thing about.
What Idoknow is that the horse he picked looks like the one the Grim Reaper would ride around on. The thing is black, scary, and massive. I can almost see my reflection in his shiny, obsidian coat. He stamps and snorts as Lukas works, looking every bit as irritated as his master is.
Within minutes, our stallion is ready.
“Just, uh…” I look around, suddenly overcome with nerves. “Just one? Isn’t there, like, a cute little pony for me?”
“You said you’ve never ridden before, right?” Lukas asks in a clipped, impatient tone.
I shake my head.
“Then you’re with me. I don’t have time to teach you. Nor do I have time to explain to the local police how you ended up with a broken neck.”
“Because your French isn’t that good?” I ask hopefully.
He snorts. “Because they’d ask too many irritating questions.”
Again with the reassurance.
Before I can formulate another snarky comeback, Lukas’s hands close around my waist.
He lifts me like I’m freaking Thumbelina. Just hoists me straight up and deposits me sideways onto the saddle. I only have time to grab a fistful of mane before he’s swinging up behind me.
Then his arm wraps around my middle and pulls me back against his chest.
Oh, this was a serious mistake.
His body is a wall of heat behind me, solid and broad. I can feel every breath he takes and every twitch of muscle as he gathers the reins in his free hand. The horse tosses impatiently beneath us. I’d have fallen to the ground immediately if it weren’t for Lukas’s thighs bracketing mine.
“Hold on,” he says against my ear. The advice is a little unnecessary, all things considered, but points for the chivalry, I guess.
Then he kicks his heels, and we’removing.
The stallion explodes out of the stable like a bullet from a gun. After the gloom of the stable, the sunlight blinds me for a split second. When I blink it clear, I see that we’re thundering down a dirt path between the vines. The wind is whipping my hair into a frenzy and Lukas’s arm is an iron band across my stomach.
It’s kind of exhilarating at first. The speed, the power. Lukas rides like he does everything else—with total, terrifying control.
