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A nervous laugh escapes me. “Are you now going to tell me to become one with the horse?”
He gives me a flash of teeth. “Yep.”
“This is—” I say, being jerked back, “I suck.”
“Not at all. If you were seeing what I’m seeing, you’d agree.”
I’m still being jostled with every movement, and I know my boobs are bouncing freely in the T-shirt I stole from him. It’s knotted at my waist in a snug fit. Even with my grimy bra back on, the girls seem to have a mind of their own as they strain against the material. I look over to where he watches me with amusement and narrow my eyes. He’s still grinning like it’s Christmas, and I refuse to let him have the leverage, so I decide to follow his advice. Tightening my thighs and squaring my shoulders, I let the horse guide me into a rhythm. I’m still rattling on top of the saddle as I do my best to take control. After a few minutes, I feel a bit more confident, my body gliding back with each extension of the horse’s leg. It’s only then that I realize I’ve crossed half the grass without him.
“I think I’ve got it!” I holler before turning to see the sun beaming behind him. I know whenever I picture Briggs, from this moment forward, it’s the image I’ll see. He’s staring at me the same way he did yesterday, but as soon as our eyes connect, he taps the side of Houdini with his boots and trots up to meet me.
“You’ve got it.”
“That’s all there is to this?”
He shrugs. “More or less. I wouldn’t let you loose in the pasture just yet, but you’re getting it.”
His face contorts a little with an expression I can’t read. “What?”
He shakes his head, and I see the emotion building in his eyes and immediately understand. He’s there, recalling every look, every word, every promise we made.
And this is the one we’re keeping, together, because it’s what saved us.
A few hours later, we’re brushing the horses down in the barn and stealing glances at each other as we wind down from our long ride. “The Living Years” by Mike & the Mechanics filters through the air from an old radio sitting on a worktop a few feet away.
“This your type of music?”
“Old rock and country, yeah.”
“Huh,” I say with a smile. “I like that you have a sentimental side.”
“I didn’t pick this song,” he says, “but I fucking love it.”
“Me too.”
Though he said he wouldn’t let me loose in the pasture, we rode over every inch of the expansive land, and I only fell more in love. This ranch is a piece of heaven in the heart of Texas, and I am smitten. Though I have to admit, every story about his childhood, or the memories he recalled with his grandparents, makes it all the more endearing. He speaks of the two people who raised him with such respect, such reverence, it’s impossible not to be spellbound. I was entranced the minute I set foot on his property—the moment I laid eyes on him. I’ve been burning images of him to memory all day.
The curve of his bicep, when he pointed at something he wanted me to see, the deep dimple that poked out when he busted me gawking, the soul in his whiskey voice, the light in his eyes. My thirst was growing in a way it hadn’t in almost a year.
I take his company over the ache of wanting him. In truth, we’ve been side-stepping this attraction for so long we’ve become masters at it. He looks over at me as he finishes shoveling hay and rests his hands on top of the handle.
“What are you thinking?”
I don’t hesitate. “I want you to be happy. I want it more for you than for myself.”
My answer surprises him. “The feeling’s mutual, Scottie.”
“I have to know you, Chris. I don’t ever want to not know you.” It’s the absolute truth.
He tugs his full bottom lip through his teeth before he speaks.
“I don’t see how that can be.”
I nod. “I know. But it doesn’t make it any less true.”
He sets the rake back against a stall door and stalks toward me, taking my hand and leading me toward the door. “Come on.”
“Where’re we going?” He’s taking strides with purpose, and I damn near smack into his back when he stops at the entrance of the barn, where his motorcycle sits. I’m already shaking my head.
“Oh, no. Yeah, that’s a negative.”
He extends the helmet my way. “Put it on and climb on.”
“You’re crazy,” I say, refusing the helmet and taking a step back. “I didn’t survive Baghdad to get on this deathtrap.”
He thrusts it toward me again, and I refuse it, standing my ground. It’s the need in his voice that cuts through the panic. “Katy,” he whispers, “let’s go for a run.”
My eyes water as he holds it out to me, and slowly, hesitantly, I take it. Eyes locked, the conversation is clear—he’s asking for my trust, and I already know I’m going to give it to him because I already do trust him, with everything I am.
Sliding the helmet on, his voice is slightly muffled, but his movement mimics his orders as he pulls my hands around his waist. I take full advantage, covering his cut abdomen, spreading my fingers to cover every available inch.
As soon as he lifts his body and cranks the bike, I’m climbing on his back in a panic. I feel his chuckle on my hands as he loosens my grip and glances back at me. I mouth his name, my eyes wide. Briggs.
I’ve got you, he mouths back. Warmth spreads through me as I grip his T-shirt and scoot my lower half closer to his back.
“This is fucking crazy!” I say, unable to hold my thoughts inside.
His laughter isn’t heard but felt as he slowly pulls out of the barn, giving it a little gas while we creep down the long gravel driveway. It’s only when we reach the end that fear creeps back in.
I make the decision to let it go. I’ve survived enough of life to know there’s only so much of it you can control, and right now, I’m handing the reins, that control, over to someone else. It’s the most freedom I’ve felt since I set foot back on US soil.
Today, I’m going to live.
Just as I make the decision, we’re off like a shot, making a left turn off the driveway onto the winding country road. The view of endless trees and untouched land is breathtaking as I bask in the feel of freedom. The rumble of the bike beneath me feels incredible—powerful—as powerful as the man I’m clinging to.
Elated tears stream down my cheeks as I’m overcome with gratitude.
We’re running.
We’re running far and fast, just as I’d imagined, without any boundaries, while the sun and the breeze spur us on. We’re claiming our freedom, and greedily we’re taking it, because we earned it, together. He’s with me, pointing it out, urging me to steal this moment with him as his warmth spreads from the tip of my head to my toes. Tightening my hold, I press myself as close as I can get as the words fall easily from my lips.
“I love you,” I murmur to his back. “I love you.”
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Briggs
Make it last.
Those are the only words racing through my mind as I release the throttle, and we ease down the driveway. We rode for over an hour until the sun had set, and I felt her arms go lax around me. All day I’ve counted her breaths, weighed her expression looking for something, but I wasn’t sure what. When I steer us back into the barn and cut the engine, she keeps her arms around my waist, and I cover her chilled hands with my own to warm them.
I’m not sure what to expect, but it’s definitely not the reaction she gives as she dismounts the bike, pulling off her helmet, her eyes alight with a fire I’ve only managed to witness a few times. Running her fingers through her untamed hair, she tosses her head back and practically howls. “That was fucking amazing!”
Her excitement fills the barn as I take her in, easy laughter ripping from my chest. “Like that, did you?”
She leans in toward me as if she’s got a secret. “Oh. My. God. Briggs! I can’t even explain what that felt like.” She places both hands on her chest where her heart lays.
