I pet the brown and white dog’s ears. “You did such a good job, Ash.” The exhausted dog looks up into my eyes.

“She did, didn’t she?” Jack says. “What are there? Twelve babies there?”

The nursing puppies are all tangled together, wriggling and whining. “I think so.”

A slow rock song blares from the wedding tent. I must have a wistful look on my face when I gaze in the direction of the band, because Jack takes my elbow and gently lifts me to my feet.

“Dance with me.” He pulls me up against his chest, close enough that I can hear the rapid beat of his heart through his cotton button-down shirt. This dance is decidedly not chaste. Burying his face in my neck, he runs fingertips up and down my arms, melting my skin, making my toes curl.

“The wedding was beautiful,” I say. “I liked dancing in the tent with all the candles and sparkling lights.”

“Oh yeah?” Jack murmurs, swaying slowly. “I prefer this. It’s quiet and private. Not to mention puppies are present.”

He lifts my chin with two fingers and softly presses a kiss to my lips, and it feels so right it’s wrong, so wrong it’s right. I pull back, touching my mouth.

“What if someone’s watching?” I say, my eyes darting around.

“Who’s gonna see us?” He looks around the barn. “Charlie the mule? George Washington the duck? Ash the dog? I doubt Ash will notice us. She’s got twelve babies to deal with. And ducks and mules are generally stupid. But you’re right, James the pig will probably say something.”

That makes me laugh.

“I want to show you a secret,” he murmurs, slipping a hand onto my lower back. The heat from his skin burns through my dress.

“Show me,” I demand, and he grabs my hand and pulls me out of the barn toward Cedar Hill. We jog together under the moonlight, laughing. Well, it’s not so much jogging as it is him pulling me across the grass. I stop for a sec to take my strappy heels off.

We end up about a hundred yards from the manor house where Jack approaches an ancient oak tree and shows me the trap door beside it. “Wait till you see where it goes.”

He lifts opens the door, we descend a ladder, and soon I find myself in a long tunnel. Thank God Jack lights a lantern, because otherwise I’d be spooked the hell out.

“My ancestors used this as part of the Underground Railroad.” The pride in his voice is sure.

“And now you’re using it to sneak a girl into the house and into your room?”

“How do you know that’s where I’m taking you?”

“Because if you aren’t, I’ll be really pissed.” My voice comes out squeaky and excited. It’s dark in the tunnel, but there’s enough light that I can see Jack’s lips part slightly. He sets a hand on my waist and yanks me to his chest.

“I wouldn’t want to make you angry,” he says quietly, giving me another kiss. And then another.

“Jack.”

He slowly kisses my neck, teasing a gasp from my lips. “Hmm?”

“Get me out of this tunnel.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I can hear the grin in his voice.

We walk briskly and end up in a cellar with a door that leads to another cellar, which is full of rotting wooden crates. Jack takes my elbow and leads me to a narrow staircase. The paint is peeling off the walls and the stairs need polishing.

When we reach the third floor, a floor I’ve never been to, Jack pushes a door open and I find myself in his bedroom. Jack’s three hounds hop to their feet when they see him, their claws scraping the hardwood floor, but when he snaps and points at their doggie beds along the far wall, they lie back down.

The bay window is wide open, letting fresh September air and moonlight into the spacious room. Jesus Lord, it’s so big, you could probably fit, like, a bowling alley in here. His queen-sized bed is made—the plaid duvet is perfectly pressed. Little horse figurines sit on his shelves and his backpack is slung over the desk chair. A pair of dirty socks is strewn across the hardwood floor, but otherwise the room is spotless. Unlike any other boy’s room ever. The maids do their jobs.

“Does Yvonne know you have dirty laundry on the floor?” I tease, gesturing at his socks.

“Shhh,” he says, placing a finger over my lips. “She’ll hear you and want to clean up. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be disturbed right now.”

A world map covered in red thumbtacks hangs on the wall. Most of the tacks are concentrated in Italy, Switzerland, and Germany. “What’s this?”

His eyes light up when he looks at the map. “Just places I want to visit one day, you know, when I have time.”

I’ve never thought much about traveling—he and I have such different dreams, but seeing the little red thumbtacks makes me want to travel someplace romantic with him.

A pair of glasses, a bottle of Tylenol, and a picture of him and his dad with a horse sit on his nightstand. I suddenly feel really close to him, seeing his personal things.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, as he takes off his watch and sets it on his dresser.

From his shelf I pick up a little black horse figurine. I run my forefinger over its mane, thinking of Moonshadow. “Jack, you’re not gonna sell Star, right?”

He drops his chin onto my shoulder and wraps his arms around my stomach. “Not right now, no.”

“But you do sell horses.”

“All the time. It’s part of the business.”

“Do you check out who you sell them to?”

“Always.” Jack turns me around and stares into my eyes intently. “We do background checks.”

“After my mom died, I started taking care of this mare. Her name was Moonshadow.” I sniffle, remembering how she used to prance when I entered her stall. “We took care of each other.”

He listens as I tell him what awful Mr. Cates did, how he sold Moonshadow to a man who forced her to race, even though her racing days were long gone. At her second race, she stumbled on her way out the gate and broke two legs. They shot her behind the track and left her body, not caring a lick what happened to it. Dad helped me bury her in the woods behind our trailer park.

That’s why I hated rich people so bad. All they cared about was making more money. At least that’s what I thought. Until I met Jack, who cares about family and honor and history.

“I’m sorry about Moonshadow,” Jack says, hugging me. “Sounds like you were a good friend to her. I’m glad Star has you now.”

“Yeah?”

“I was torturing the poor fellow, making him spend time with boys when he hates them. I should’ve known he’s into girls. Just like his owner.”

I give Jack a playful punch on the shoulder, and he hugs me again.

“I can’t thank you enough for helping me with Star. On the way home from Kentucky this afternoon, my father told me how proud he is that I stuck to my guns. Maybe I’ll pass this test after all, thanks to you.”

“We’re a pretty good team, huh?” I reply.

“Yeah we are,” he says in a thick voice, and kisses me deeply, pushing me against the wall. We slowly make out and it hits me how right this feels, how there’s no place I’d rather be.

And suddenly things speed up in a very good way. He cups my face with both hands, watching me unbutton his shirt. He twirls me around and unzips my dress, letting it drop to the floor, leaving me in just a bra and panties. Thank God I wore my matching set today. He brushes my curls out of the way so he can kiss my neck from behind, and I wrap an arm around the back of his head, weaving my fingers in his long hair. His chest presses against my back, his heart pounding hard and wild. His hands are everywhere, softly stroking my stomach, my hips, my breasts.

He yanks his boots off, hopping on one foot to do so, then he’s kissing me again. I pull him to the bed. He falls on top of me. Our lips find each other hungrily. He holds both of my hands above my head as we kiss, trapping me.

“How am I supposed to unbutton your pants if you won’t let my hands go?” I ask with a tiny voice, shaking all over.

“Not until I’m finished with you.” He kisses a trail from my neck down to my stomach. “So that’s where it is,” he says, kissing the horseshoe tattoo on my hip before smiling up at me.

“Are you wearing a belt buckle that says cocky?” I peer down at his waistband.

“Oh, um…”

I roll my eyes, smiling like crazy. “Would you get back to kissing me already?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, diving back in. I kiss the sensitive hollow of his neck. His pulse races beneath my lips. I bite his ear and his neck, as we squirm under the covers, our legs twisting together.

“Not too hard.” He pauses to smile at me. “My parents will kill me if I show up at breakfast with a hickey.”

“Oh.” My face flames devil red.

“I’ll give you one instead,” he says, nipping at my neck. I laugh and try to pull away, but he snuggles me closer beneath the blankets.

We make out for ages, as he presses against me and rocks his hips, slowly at first, then faster and faster, and then he finally pushes past the elastic of my panties, to touch me for real. I love it, and can’t stop murmuring his name over and over. I reach between us and unbutton his pants and tug his boxers down, exploring where he’s hard and silky.

“I think you like me,” he says, grinning.

“You’re okay,” I tease.

“Just okay?” he murmurs, tickling me, making me squirm and laugh. “Just okay?”

“Fine.” I touch his cheek and return his gaze, feeling so many feelings. “I like you so much,” I say quietly, and he reaches over to his nightstand, opens the top drawer, and pulls out a condom.

I’m out of breath, panting—about to tell him I don’t want to do this yet, as he begins to slip my underwear down, when I hear a noise.