EXCERPT 1:
“Yesterday…I wrecked you?” She gave me a look I remembered. Her green eyes flared. I was about to lose this fight in a way I’d never recover from.

She slowly unzipped her coveralls. My brain immediately abandoned ship. Not helped by the fact that traitorous memory chose this exact moment to replay yesterday’s rainstorm in vivid detail.

Meanwhile, in real time, she peeled the coveralls down and somehow stepped out of them while keeping her socks from touching the ground—a feat of female sorcery I could neither explain nor stop watching.

Underneath was a tight white shirt that clung in ways that should probably require a warning label, a permit, and possibly a pastor on standby.

My eyes briefly closed. Opened. She was still there.

Beside me, Cody made a small choking noise.

I cut him a glare.

He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

Then—because she enjoyed cruelty—she lifted both arms and twisted her hair into a messy bun. Which did things. Terrible, magnificent things to her chest. 

Her mouth curved like she knew exactly what she’d done. She pulled a scrub top out of the duffle and pulled it down over the tight shirt. Without a word, she packed the supplies into her duffel, casually picked up the dart rifle from the ground, and started walking up the hill like she hadn’t just detonated every functioning brain cell in a fifty-yard radius.

Then she tossed over her shoulder—

“I’m back, Timothy Hurst. End of story.” A few steps later she said, “You’re welcome…for dealing with your dangerous llama.”

EXCERPT 2:
Timothy stood there, staring at me and making my body burn for an indefinite period of time. I flushed the wound a few more times and applied the poultice before the bandage.

Finally, I blurted, “For the love of God, say whatever it is you’re dying to say before you burn a hole in my back.”

He remained silent.

I glanced up, wondering if he’d stroked out while I finished the bandage. “I’m not on your land, so you can’t accuse a McClary of poisoning your soil. I’m fully clothed, dry, and wearing a bra this time, so my boobs aren’t going to launch a sneak attack on you.”

His lips twitched upward. Then he drawled, low and rough, “I don’t think they were attacking me.”

My hand stilled on the bandage. I glanced up.

His eyes dropped to my chest, which was fully covered by the coveralls, before lifting back to my eyes.

“I think,” he said, voice dark as midnight, “they were inviting me to attack them.”

Heat slammed through me so hard I nearly dropped the wrap. My mouth went dry. My brain, apparently concussed by lust, offered nothing useful except: Well, he’s not wrong.

I swallowed.

His eyes dropped to the bruises on my wrist. All lightness dropped from his body.

“How’s my cow?” Mr. Almond boomed into the barn.

“She’s good,” I called out, falsely cheerful. “Just finishing up.”

Mr. Almond cuffed Timothy on the shoulder. “So, what do you think? You want to buy her?”

“I’ll take the tractor, Keith, but I can’t pick it up until later in the week.” Timothy’s voice was professional and no longer that dark-as-midnight tone.

“Excellent.” Mr. Almond waved at me. “Have you met Dr. Stevens yet?”

“She works for my brother. So, yes, we’ve met.”

“That’s right. Josh Hurst part owns Vision Veterinary. Well, you should get Gia out to your place. She’s magic with the cows.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

Timothy’s gaze met mine. “Perhaps I will sometime.”

Then he left.

Excerpt #3
A small helpless laugh escaped me. “Do you know where I can find spray whipped cream?”

His eyebrows lifted beneath the bit of hair hanging over his forehead. 

I narrowed my eyes. “Please tell me that your brain did not just put whipped cream on my body.”

He looked almost offended. “Well,” he drawled, “it hadn’t…”

His slow grin spread. “But now that you mention it…” His gaze dipped, wicked amusement flashing in his eyes. “Question is, was your brain generous enough to imagine some on me too, or am I doing all the work here?”

A startled choke-laugh burst out of me as I dragged my eyes down his body, taking in the dark t-shirt tucked into jeans that hung a little low. I’d already checked out the backside and confirmed it still looked just as good as when he walked away the other day after agreeing to buy a tractor.

He leaned casually on his cart. “For the record,” he added, “I’m picturing collarbone. Maybe wrist. Then I’d go…lower…to areas that might enjoy some attention.” His gaze dropped to my chest. “Then it depends on how wild we’re getting.”

That sent me over the edge laughing. The image of him standing in a grocery aisle naked and covered in whipped cream looking deeply inconvenienced by it was the funniest thing I’d thought all week.

“So, what do you really need whipped cream for?” he asked.

I swallowed my last snort of laughter. “Obviously, I need to keep my fridge stocked in case you randomly swing by. You’ll have to bring your own sprinkles, if you can get them away from your dad.”

His mouth twitched. His eyes went bright with trouble.