The Hamilton brothers have horse racing in their blood, and their sprawling Kentucky farm is the family’s pride and joy. But they’ve got plenty of passion to spare…
Nick Hamilton has always known he’d take the reins of the family business when his father died, but that doesn’t make it any easier when the time comes. Especially with his two siblings tempted by a shrewd offer from a huge corporation to buy Hamilton Industries. Needing advice, Nick turns to his sensible childhood friend, Becca Stark—and finds her suddenly grown-up beauty ignites brand-new confusion, and crystal clear desire…
Becca has loved Nick for as far back as she can remember, but she decided long ago that telling him would be a mistake. Stubborn, strong Nick doesn’t see her as anything but the tomboy she used to be—or does he? As she helps him untangle his feelings about the ranch’s future, the familiar bond between them heats into an explosive attraction—and the kind of love that just might take the lead…
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Becca closed the freezer and then, missing its wonder, she fanned herself with her tank top. “It’s time I reconsider a move up north, but then snow and driving in snow.”
“Yeah, that’d be pretty dangerous with your track record.”
She continued to fan herself. “What? It was one mailbox, not the whole street.”
“All right, fine. Two. But I bought them replacements.” She grabbed a flyer from her stack of mail, folded it in half, and used it as a makeshift fan. “Ahhh.”
“What are you, menopausal or something?”
She pointed at him. “Watch your mouth, boy.” He laughed, the sound so glorious she almost closed her eyes again so she could bask in it, but then that would be all sorts of awkward, and Becca tried to maintain her cool around her best friend. Even if right now she was anything but cool in every sense of the word.
“Now spill it.”
Becca pulled out a bottle of water and leaned a hip against the counter.
“You could at least drink with me.”
“It's five thirty. I like to keep my alcoholic tendencies for nighttime hours.”
“It's P.M. That stands for nighttime.”
“Wow. Is that what that Ivy League education of yours taught you? 'Cause you might want to ask for a refund. At least a partial, right? Because night starts with an N, not a P, and time starts with a T, not an M. And, in fact, P.M. stands for post meridiem, so you can send me that money they give you for the refund.”
“All right.” Nick pulled out his wallet, counted out several bills, and tossed them onto the counter. “Now go turn on the damn A/C. It's hot in here.”
With a loud, long, and drawn-out sigh, Becca pushed the money back toward him. “You know I'm not taking that.”
“Well, I'm not taking it back, so take it or burn it.” He shrugged. “It's nothing to me.”
“See that right there? That's why you can't get a solid date. No girl wants a guy who burns money. I mean seriously. Not only is that six shades of insane, but hello, fire hazard, right?”
He cracked a smile and she grinned back, lost in those amazing blue eyes, crystal clear even through his glasses. Years and years around him and she still couldn't pinpoint the exact shade. They were sky blue with flecks of navy and turquoise. They were perfect...he was perfect.
And now she'd drifted into lala land again.
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