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tales she’d read about in books, or dreamed about in the dark of night when her guard was down. Her heart was untried, unused, which, in her mind, made her vulnerable to silly romanticism. So, the man knew how to kiss. Really knew how to kiss. Could probably fuck like a damn champion, too. But that didn’t mean her life was about to change.
    Oy.
    She wasn’t a virgin—far from it—but Ainsley was beginning to think she didn’t have what it took to handle a cowboy like Clay Mathis.
    He’d stood up for her. Stood beside her, his resolve absolute. In that moment, she’d felt safe. Protected. Those feelings were bound to go to her head if she weren’t careful.
    She’d have to work extra hard to make sure that didn’t happen.
    Ainsley threw on a pair of cut-off shorts and a military-green tank top. She brushed her teeth and pulled her hair back into its customary ponytail. She didn’t know why she kept her hair long when she rarely wore it down. Texas summers were too hot, and it got in the way when she worked. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to cut the thick mass.
    Ready for chores, Ainsley jogged down the stairs. The physical exertion would do wonders for her raging libido. She went to the kitchen to gulp down her now-cold coffee and put her empty mug in the sink to wash later. She spied Clay’s mug, sitting where he’d left it on the table. She touched her lips, resisting the urge to finish his cup as well, just to put her mouth where his had been. She licked over her bottom lip, still swollen from his kiss.
    Reality had melted away as he tasted her. Her body had come alive in a flash of fire. She’d combust for sure if he ever got inside her. When he got inside her.
    She didn’t doubt his promise to return any more than she doubted what would happen when he did.
    Ainsley shoved her feet into her boots, and then she was out the kitchen door for the quarter-mile walk to the stable. After she cleaned the barn and fed the horses, she planned to spend some time in her garden. There should be enough tomatoes to make the spaghetti sauce she’d been perfecting over the last several years, whenever she could get her hands on the fresh ingredients. The yield from the extensive garden she’d planted had been abundant, providing her a wide array of fresh vegetables—coupled with the herbs she’d grown in pots—with which to experiment.
    Today, she had the notion to add a little fresh, sweet mint to the mix.
    A sleek black quarter horse met her at the paddock gate. Bright, blue eyes followed Ainsley as she climbed up and sat on the fence rail to take the horse’s head into her lap.
    “Good morning, Sapphire. How’s my magnificent girl?”
    Sapphire nudged Ainsley’s waist, almost toppling her over.
    “Hey, now.” Ainsley rubbed between Sapphire’s ears. “You knock me over and I won’t be able to feed you breakfast.”
    She urged Sapphire back and whistled for Timber, the chestnut stallion she’d used to teach herself to ride. The old horse had the patience of a saint. He’d stood still for hours as Ainsley worked and reworked the trappings of the saddle until she could do it without the instruction book. Once she’d gained the nerve to climb on the saddle, Timber rewarded her by being docile and not bucking her ass onto the dirt. There wasn’t a lot of need-for-speed on the ranch, but after a few months, Ainsley could trot with the best of them.
    Sapphire had more spunk than Ainsley could handle, but she longed to get to the point she could let loose and fly with the mare. For now, one of her few remaining ranch hands exercised the horse on a daily basis.
    Ainsley hopped off the fence. She walked to the stable and rolled open the stable door. Walking to the back wall, she flipped on the radio that hung from a hook. The thing only got one station—classic country. The music helped pass the time while she worked. After a month or so, she’d actually learned enough of the songs to sing along.
    With her