Page 16 of Buckin' Around

Spencer

Iclose the door to Stacey and Riley’s unit and stride down the hallway. My lunch break is all but up.

Hold up. Did she just call me a blithering eejit?

Anidiot?

An unfamiliar sensation tangles with every moment I replay through my head of that one brief interaction. The grin that splits my face is ridiculous.

A woman called me an idiot. A blithering one, for that matter. And all I can do is grin like a goddamn, well...

Eejit.

She was cold.

Standoffish.

Nothing like last night at dinner with her polite conversation and warm gestures toward Stacey and Mom.

It’s almost as if she’s not interested in Spencer Lockwood. My gut dips. Well,that’sa new feeling.

And I don’t . . . hate it?

In fact, my thoughts double down on the five-foot, dark-haired, black-cat type with dark eyes that would drown a man if he looked into them too long.

What Riley lacks in height she more than makes up for with her fiery personality.

I laugh at myself. Listen to thiseejit, spends three minutes in the same space as a woman and thinks he knows her. Down deep to the bone, mind you.

“Yeah, Spence. Great work. Get your head out of the damn clouds,” I mutter with a sigh. Like I need any more problems. Or distractions. Between Mrs. Princeton and my father’s threats to give the old duck what she wants to keep the money flowing in, I’ve all but run out of bandwidth for drama this week.

I cross the parking lot and unlock the truck before sliding into the driver’s seat and firing my precious girl up. I’m across town and heading out toward the curated suburbs that line the city before the landscape gives way to the open fields and the wide silver gates of Silver Elite Stables minutes later.

Pulling into the parking lot in front of the administration building, I kill the engine. If I was a praying man, I’d be asking for the strength to get through another day of Mrs. Princeton’s unwanted advances. Luckily, I only have a half day. I’m leaving for the circuit at twelve. So, that’s barely four hours of avoiding the stables and Mrs. Princeton.

How hard can it be?

Three and a half hours later, I’m seventeen files deep into the budget and staffing rosters when a knock comes at my door.

The second I glance up, I regret it.

Mrs. Princeton leans on the frame of my office door. “Busy little boy, aren’t you.”

Boy.

Like someone she can boss around. Like someone she can get what she wants out of.

Fuck, I hate it here.

“Mrs. Princeton. What can I do for you?”

Members aren’t supposed to be in the staff areas behind the front counter or in the treatment rooms in the back of the stables. It’s staff only—for good reason.

A smile tugs at her thin lips, accentuating the wrinkles that are caked with makeup and far too much eyeshadow for any human to be carrying on their eyelids. How are her eyes even open?

“There’s something of a sensitive nature I wanted to talk to you about. Not in front of all the other staff or members.”

Fuck my luck sideways.