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Riding Hard
Riding Hard

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Riding Hard

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Now it was a problem, especially with him leaning over like that, which showcased his tight buns. She backed away from the truck. “I need to feed the pigs and chickens. When I discovered Dottie leaking, I lost track of everything else.”

“Sure. Go ahead.” Rustling noises indicated he was still gathering supplies. He didn’t turn around. “I’ll take care of things here.”

Then she realized something else. She should offer to feed him—another sticky wicket because logically they’d have to eat the meal together. He might have to spend considerable time within her three-foot limit. Maybe they could sit at opposite ends of Lily and Regan’s dining table as if they were a couple living in a manor house with servants.

Then there was the menu. She doubted it would suit him, but she had to give it a shot. She’d talked him into occupying the premises, and the guy needed nourishment. A small town like Shoshone didn’t have a pizza parlor that delivered.

She screwed up her courage. “After I feed the pigs and chickens, I’ll warm up some dinner for us.”

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