The horse doesn’t answer, of course, but the stillness of the barn feels like it’s listening. I glance out at the night sky, the stars just beginning to peek through. For the first time in years, I let myself imagine it—a life with someone like Indie. Laughter in the house, the smell of cookies baking in the kitchen, maybe even the sound of little feet running across the floor someday.
“Guess I’m a fool,” I mutter, grabbing my tools and heading for the door. “But damn if it doesn’t feel like a good kind of foolish.”
Chapter Seven
Indie
The barn is quiet, the hum of crickets outside filling the night with a low, steady rhythm. The warm glow of the single lantern hanging from a beam above us casts shadows across King’s broad frame. He stands by the stall door, a brush in hand, stroking it along his mare’s side with slow, deliberate movements.
I’m leaning against the opposite wall, my feet aching from the walk from town, fingers running along the leather of a worn bridle, but my eyes keep drifting to him. There’s something about the way he moves—steady, confident, sure. Like the whole world could fall apart around him and he’d just keep going, one step at a time.
“You gonna hand me that horse blanket, or just stare at me all night?” he rumbles, his deep voice breaking through the quiet.
My cheeks burn. I snap my gaze back to the leather straps, fumbling to adjust the buckles. “I’m not staring. Just... thinking.”
“Thinking, huh?” He snorts, glancing at me over his shoulder. “What about?”
“About how you need better lighting in here,” I quip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much space he’s taking up in my thoughts.
“Lighting’s fine. You just need better focus.” He smirks, the corner of his mouth tugging upward in a way that makes my stomach flip.
“Focus isn’t the problem,” I shoot back, trying to ignore the heat pooling low in my belly. “Your ego, though? That might need some work.”
He chuckles, low and rough, the sound rolling over me like a wave. “Says the woman who keeps coming around my mountain.”
I don’t have a good retort for that, so I keep my mouth shut and finish adjusting the bridle. When I finally glance up, he’s watching me, his dark eyes glinting in the lantern light. The intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down my spine, and I can’t tell if it’s from the cool night air or something else entirely.
“Come here,” he says, his tone softer now, but no less commanding.
I hesitate for half a second before stepping toward him. There’s no point in pretending I don’t want to. The pull between us is magnetic, impossible to resist. I stop just short of where he stands, the air between us crackling with unspoken tension.
“Brush her,” he says, holding out the grooming brush. His fingers graze mine as I take it, and the brief contact sends a spark racing up my arm.
I step closer to the mare, running the brush along her side in long, even strokes. The rhythmic motion is soothing, but it does little to calm the thrum of energy coursing through me with King so close. I can feel him behind me, his presence a solid, inescapable weight.
“You’re good at this,” he says after a moment, his voice low and rough.
“You know, I’m not some city girl who’s never seen a horse before.”
“You keep saying that,” he murmurs, stepping closer, “but I’m not convinced.”
I pause, the brush stilling in my hand. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re different,” he says simply, his fingers trailing lightly along the edge of my jaw. The touch is so unexpected, so gentle, that I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. “You don’t belong in my world.”
The words hit harder than they should. I turn to face him, the brush forgotten in my hand. “What if your world is the only one I want?”
He studies me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. The silence stretches between us, heavy and charged, until he finally speaks.
“Careful, Indie,” he says, his voice a warning and a promise all at once. “You don’t know what you’re getting into with a guy like me.”
“Maybe I do,” I whisper, my heart pounding in my chest.
His hand slides from my jaw to the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair. He pulls me closer, his lips hovering just inches from mine. “Is that right?”
“Yeah,” I breathe, the word barely audible.
And then he kisses me.
