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Brooks started and tore his gaze away from Jo, his eyes meeting Cheyenne’s curious—and slightly giddy—expression. “What?”
“Jo.” She smiled up at him. “You really like her.”
It wasn’t a question so much as it was a statement of fact.
“Cheyenne—”
“Don’t even try to deny it,” she said. “I’ve seen the way you look at her.”
Despite the uncomfortable heat snaking up his neck, Brooks grinned. “And what way is that?”
“You know.” Shrugging, Cheyenne jerked her chin toward Jo in the pasture below. “All moony-like.” A mischievous expression appeared on her face as she adopted a teasing tone. “Like your heart is melting. Like a fire is raging inside you. Like you can’t stand the thought of living another moment without—”
“All right, kid,” Brooks said, laughing. “I can do without your sarcasm this morning. We’ve got a race coming up in a few days. A very important one, I might add, that deserves all of my attention.”
Cheyenne smirked. “You’re trying to change the subject.”
“Heck, yes, I am. No way am I having that conversation with you.”
Cheyenne rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why. It’s not like it’s a secret or anything.” She stared out at Jo again, then said softly, “It’d be nice, you know.”
Brooks studied her face again, noting the bashful but yearning light in her eyes. “What would?”
“You two getting together. You and her being here every day . . .” She looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “With me, Frankie, and Earl. It’d be like . . . you know, a family.”
Brooks fell silent, surprised by a deep-seated yearning of his own that unfurled deep within him, filling him with pleasure at the prospect. The thought was enticing, mesmerizing even. But guilt rushed in soon after, flooding him with a sense of regret and remorse at having forgotten, however briefly, the family he used to have before Spencer had ripped it all away.
“I suppose it might,” Brooks said quietly.
Cheyenne brightened, searching his eyes. “So, you agree? That it really would feel like a family?”
Brooks hesitated, then reached out and gently ruffled her hair again. “I’m saying it’s okay to dream, Cheyenne. It’s okay to imagine a different life from what you have, to pursue an ideal of what you hope your life will be.”
The hopeful light in her eyes vanished as she stared up at him, a wounded expression on her face. “So, it’s okay for me to dream just as long as I don’t expect it to come true?”
Brooks turned away, unable to face the pain lacing her words and unable to answer.
* * *
“He’s looking at you again.”
Jo, standing by the white fence of the pasture, looked away as Another Round galloped past and glanced at Frankie, who stood beside her. “Who? Another Round?”
Laughing, Frankie elbowed her gently, then motioned toward the back deck of the main house. “Our benefactor.”
Jo glanced over at the main house, her eyes searching for and finding Brooks, who stared back at her. Noticing her eyes on him, he lifted a hand and waved, smiling wide.
She smiled and waved back, enjoying the delicious tingles she always felt when looking at him.
“He’s having trouble keeping his eyes on his horse instead of you.” Frankie leaned onto the fence and tossed a teasing glance in Jo’s direction. “Why do you think that is?”
Oh, Lord. Here we go.
Jo ducked her head and rubbed her hands over her warm cheeks. Early on, Cheyenne, Frankie, and Earl had picked up on the undercurrent of tension between her and Brooks. Frankie had noticed it first, teasing her every now and then about Brooks’s admiring glances and frequent compliments. Then, Cheyenne had joined in, making silly kissy faces behind Brooks’s back whenever he and Jo were talking.
Eventually, even Earl had commented on Brooks’s lack of focus.
Two weeks ago, on the warmest day so far in March, Brooks had insisted on joining Jo in the pasture to observe Another Round’s workout. Despite his stated intention of getting a closer look at Another Round’s progress, he’d spent most of his time leaning into Jo as they stood by the fence, murmuring softly in her ear, and sneaking a kiss on her cheek and neck every now and then.
