Taste of Commitment (Whisky and Risky #2)

15. Taylor

Taylor

The fresh hint of herbs and the sweet smell of bread fill the kitchen that Isla and I have been working in for the last two hours. I offered to help her in the kitchen mostly because she needed it, but I think I needed it as well. Creating in the kitchen has always been my little anchor—the one thing that brings me joy and a surprising sense of purpose. As I shucked husks of corn, peeled potatoes, and finely diced herbs though, I wondered if Isla needs more help here than she’s letting on.

“We’ll let that sit for about an hour before stirring,” she says, as I move the Dutch oven over the open flame. “I’m going to head down to the barn and see if I can find Ryder. He’s supposed to be helping me with the plans to build a new spice rack.”

She leaves the room, slightly shimmying her shoulders as she goes. I smile at her retreating back as she exits through the Dutch doors in the back.

The door on the opposite side of the kitchen swings open. I do a double take as Knox enters the room with one hand on the door, and the other adjusting the hat on his head .

I bite down on the insides of my cheeks, trying my best to hide the grin I so desperately want to give him.

But not before I mess with him a little.

I pull the apron over my head, loose strands of my hair lifting and falling with it, and I place it on the counter before I glide across the kitchen to where he stands.

“Hey.” I tilt my head up to him. “You look different.”

“Yeah?” His eyebrows draw together, but his smirk tells me he’s playing the same game as I am.

“Did you get a haircut?”

“No.”

“New shirt?”

“Same shirt.”

“Maybe you grew overnight.” I scan his body, pausing briefly where he appears to be straining against his zipper, before bringing my eyes back to his. “Are men your age still growing?”

He drops his head an inch closer, his eyes boring into mine. “Define growing.”

I pull my bottom lip in, having to bite down harder now.

“I know.” I tap my finger on his chest. “You got a manzillian.”

He blinks. “A what?”

“You know.” I rip my hand through the air making a whipping sound. “Balls to ass.” I hold his stare for half a second longer before my smile betrays me and I drop my head back, clutching my chest as laughter erupts from me. “I’m kidding, you got your sling off.”

I grab hold of his bicep and he cups my elbow. The touch is so simple, likely not causing a second thought in his head, but it makes my heart skip a beat.

“Mhmm. ”

“You look good.” I arch an eyebrow and lean into his touch.

“You got a minute? I want to show you something.”

I twist, checking the timer on the oven, and slide my hands into the back pocket of my jeans. “I’ve got fifty-four of them actually.”

Knox reaches behind me and my breath catches when the warmth of his hand slides down my backside, finding one of my pocketed hands. “Then let’s ride.”

“Oh my God!” I stop dead in my tracks, creating a small dust storm around me. “What did you do?”

“You said you wanted to ride a horse,” he explains, extending his hand to me. “I got you a horse.”

I’m left standing dumbfounded at the giant animals in front of me, beside the man who got them for me because of one throw-away comment I made.

“What’s wrong?”

“I guess I just didn’t realize how… big they are.”

Knox’s fingers intertwine with mine, his thumb rubbing a comforting pass along my wrist and I loosen a breath, taking a tentative step forward with him.

“This is Pinto Bean.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope.” He reaches into a bucket, pulls out an apple, and feeds it to the brown horse before petting his mane, all while never letting go of my hand. “This guy has been with me since my first year of secondary school—hence the name.”

A pinched expression forms on Knox’s face as he drops his right arm, and I feel like an asshole. He’s just gotten his cast off and was probably told to take it easy, but instead, he’s out here wrangling a horse because of my lie .

I settle my nerves and step closer to him, gently rubbing his shoulder. “Does it hurt?”

“Nah, it’s just a little stiff.”

“Mmm.” My lips pull tight as I fight back my slightly inappropriate response but he reads me like a book. His head drops back and he laughs a deep laugh that soaks through my chest and vibrates all the way down between my legs.

“Go ahead. Make your dirty joke, Nova girl.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I shake my head. “Who’s that?”

I point behind Knox to the white-haired horse.

“That’s Dolly.” He flicks his head in her direction before wrapping his arm around my waist like a seatbelt. I walk alongside him. “Do you want to pet her?”

I look in her big black eyes and my heart hammers toward unsafe territory. I feel Knox’s hand tighten on my waist and I inhale his comforting presence. Lifting a shaky hand, my fingers brush against her coarse hair, and when she doesn’t turn and snap my hand off, a whoosh falls from my lips. Knox covers his hand over my own and my trembles subside.

“What do you think?” Knox whispers against the side of my head.

“She’s a little intimidating but… I think I like her.”

“Funny, that’s what I think about you.” A snort escapes me, but I continue to pet her. “You ready to get up? She’s very sweet. She has a gentle temper and can hardly be bothered to run, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

“Now that sounds more like me.” Knox smiles beside me and I give Dolly another look over, nodding my head. He moves to stand behind me with both of his large hands bracketing my sides.

“Go ahead and put your foot in and I’ll help you up and over. ”

I lift one foot to the stirrup and push the other off the ground at the same time that Knox lifts me. It’s a cool sixty degrees—the perfect fall day, but when my waffle henley lifts and Knox’s hands graze my lower back, my entire body overheats. I settle myself into the saddle, and his hand drags down my jean-covered legs. His touch burns, even through the fabric of my jeans. I look down at where he stands, teeth digging into his bottom lip, and my mouth is suddenly bone dry. His fingers flex against me, his golden brown eyes darkening faster than the setting sun. I smile to myself, knowing that I’m not the only one affected here.

He clears his throat, rapidly blinking before stepping back. “Alright, you good?”

“Are you?”

“There’s my cheeky girl.” He smiles, handing me the reins, and moves swiftly, hopping up onto Pinto Bean. “Let’s ride, Nova.”

“Alright, horseback riding, check. What else do you want to get out of your trip?”

“Oh, I see. This was all just a big ruse to get me to tell you the rest of my plans.”

“I’m a curious guy. What can I say?”

I laugh at his sweet boy-next-door words that are a direct contradiction to the absolute sex on a stick—or in this case horse—that this man is. I can hardly stand to look at him now, with the way his hips rock back and forth from his horse’s slow movements. I can’t stop myself from thinking what it would feel like if that were me under his rolling hips. His annoyingly perfect lips lift into a smirk like he knows exactly what I’m thinking about. Of course, he does. I’m practically drowning in my own saliva over here .

“Okay, I want to try real Irish beer.”

“You didn’t get enough the other night?”

“That was Irish Whisky.”

His laugh is warm, wrapping around me. “Alright, fair. So Irish beer and flirting with retired rugby players. Got it.”

My head whips toward him. “I’m not flirting with you.”

“No?”

“No.” I knew I wasn’t being slick but I didn’t realize I had a goddamn neon sign on my forehead.

“That’s alright, Nova. I’ll flirt with you enough for the both of us.” His all-knowing smirk lifts to the sky and he lets out a full-on belly laugh.

And I’m left staring at him, absolutely gobsmacked.

After another twenty minutes spent wandering around the grounds with Knox showing me his parent’s house, the four different barns, and the wedding gazebo, we start making our way back down the hill. My heartbeat is sluggish and I find myself pulling back on Dolly’s reins as the inn comes into view.

I’m not ready for this to end.

Knox guides his horse over to the fence, the muscles in his back flexing and pulling tightly beneath his shirt as he lowers himself from the saddle. He makes no effort to hide his smile as he approaches me and places those large hands around my waist. Once again, my heart rate picks up and my breath gets lodged in my throat. His dark, wavy hair sticks out from under his hat, his jaw is set as his bourbon eyes bore into mine. His grip on my body tightens when I swing my leg over the saddle and climb down. I keep my eyes trained on Dolly in front of me as I try to regulate my breathing.

His head dips to the crook of my neck, and my eyelids flutter closed. His lips are a warm whisper against my skin. “You did good.”

I melt into his strong body. For one second, I let myself imagine what it would be like to have someone like Knox have my back like this, both physically and emotionally. I let myself imagine a world where someone wants to be with me and I’m not emotionally closed off, but instead, I’m open to it and thriving in it. A world where people want to stay. As quick as the moment comes, I shut it down even faster. Because as nice as it sounds, it’s not reality. People always leave. I’m aware of how cynical that sounds, but it’s the truth. I’ll never put myself in a position to rely on someone only for them to leave me.

I smile against the feel of him behind me. Not only his broad chest at my back and his powerful arms around my body, but the idea of him. It’s almost painful tasting this little piece of cake that I know I’m going to refuse myself. I thought I could just flirt with him, treat him like a vacation fling, but imagining a world where we could be something more wasn’t part of the plan. I need to pull back before I do something or feel something that I can’t come back from.

I turn in his hands and his eyes search mine. Questioning.

“Where’d you go just now?” he asks, brushing away a strand of hair from my face. I feel a thick layer of emotion mixing in my throat. It’s unbelievable how he’s reading me and I have to fight like hell not to close my eyes, admit defeat, and drop my head into his hand.

“I’ve got to get back,” I whisper. “I told Camila I’d call her and I want to check on your mom, I feel bad leaving the kitchen longer than I intended.”

The crease between his brows is deep and I want nothing more than to run my thumb over it, soothing the concern away, but I don’t .

I step back and his lips purse slightly, but he dips his chin. I want to tell him that it’s not him. I want him to know that this afternoon was perfect, and if I were anyone else, I would be throwing myself at him and the opportunity to spend more time with him. I open my mouth, but the only thing that could possibly be worse than saying nothing is saying, ‘It’s not you, it’s me,’ so I close my mouth and begrudgingly move past him.

He doesn’t make it easy. He keeps his eyes on me, like he’s waiting for me to change my mind. I don’t. Instead, I drag my body back to the house like I’m moving through cement and choke down the unfamiliar desire I have to stay with him.