Page 21 of Runaway Hucow

CHAPTER 12

“…meet Miss Tess.”

But Peyton barely heard a word his brother was saying. He barely heard anything at all, or saw anything for that matter. His vision had suddenly tunneled around the female in front of him. Everything else—the valley and sky, the cottage, and even the horse the woman was sitting on—all of it seemed to fade out of existence, until the only thing left was her.

The most beautiful woman Peyton had ever seen.

And she was a hucow.

Peyton was tempted to grab the rag from his back pocket and give his homemade spectacles a quick wipe, just to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. But if the hucow was an illusion, he didn’t want to make it go away. He just wanted to keep looking at her forever.

Peyton had never actually seen a hucow before, but he had no trouble identifying this woman as one. Her flexible ears and tiny horns were a dead giveaway—not to mention those two very large giveaways on her chest. She was wearing a loose-fitting man’s shirt, but Peyton could easily tell she was hiding an ample bust under all that fabric.

Her face was gorgeous, with deeply tanned skin and a pair of big brown eyes that sparkled the way coffee did when you poured it from the kettle and the morning sunlight came shining through. And then there were her lips. The most incredible set of lips Peyton had ever seen in his life. It was impossible to look at those lips and not think all kinds of wicked, wicked thoughts.

It was a few seconds before he found the breath to speak.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma’am.”

Pleased didn’t even begin to cover it, though. His heart was beating so hard and so fast it felt like he had an entire buffalo herd stampeding through his chest, and he could feel the front of his britches getting tighter with each pulse of his blood. Part of him hoped the hucow didn’t see that. Another part of him hoped she did.

But the little hucow wasn’t looking at the front of his pants. Her eyes were locked right on his. Peyton would have given anything to know what was going on inside that pretty little head of hers.

After a second, her sexy lips spread into the sweetest smile imaginable.

“Pleased to meet you too, Peyton.”

God, he loved the way his name just rolled off her tongue. It made him want to test some other parts of himself on her tongue just to see how well they fit. He reckoned they’d fit pretty good. He really needed to stop thinking like that, though. If he didn’t, he was liable to bust right through the front of his britches. He took a deep breath to slow his racing thoughts.

Gradually, the world came back into focus around him, and he suddenly realized how filthy he must look right now. He’d been in the barn working on one of his projects—the big one—and he was soiled from horn to hoof with grease and grime. He pulled the dirty work rag from his pocket and started rubbing it over his hands in a vain attempt to get them clean.

“Roscoe around?” Spike asked way too casually.

Peyton felt his heart climb into his gullet. Oh shit. Roscoe. Their oldest brother was going to shit bricks when he saw what Spike had done. A whole fucking pile of bricks. Enough to build a goddamn three-story mansion.

Peyton just shook his head and jerked a thumb back toward the barn. “Uh, Spike… could I have a word with you in private for a minute?”

“We just got here,” Spike said. “Seems rude to leave our guest sitting out here all by herself.”

“It’s okay,” Tess said, slipping down from the saddle. “I can tend to the horses while you two are catching up.”

Spike thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Okay, you can just hitch ’em to the front porch for the time being. When I’m done talking to my brother, I’ll put them in the corral over yonder.”

“Sounds good.”

The hucow took the reins of the three horses and started leading them toward the house. She was wearing a pair of blue jeans that clung so tightly around her thighs and ass, it looked like she must have used a paint brush to put them on. Peyton gaped as he watched her walk away, hips swaying.

“Try not to drool,” Spike chuckled.

Peyton turned and glared at his brother. The smug bastard was looking awfully pleased with himself. Didn’t he realize what kind of trouble he had caused?

“Barn,” Peyton snarled. “Now.”

He would never have spoken to Roscoe that brusquely, but he considered himself and Spike to be on equal footing, even though Spike was a few years his senior. He stomped off toward the big open door of the barn, and he heard Spike following close on his heels. Once they were inside and partially hidden by the shade, Peyton turned and faced his brother again.

“That’s a hucow,” he hissed.

“You don’t say.”