But my body doesn’t listen.
My pulse is loud in my ears. My fingers feel unsteady around my phone. I look at him again—really look this time—and my breath catches when I realize he’s watching me openly now. No scowl. No distance. Just awareness. Like he’s waiting.
Waiting for me.
Whatever this is, it’s inconvenient, beyond inappropriate, and dangerous.
And yet.
I can’t explain the way I feel when he’s near me. It’s like we’re magnets, pulled toward each other no matter how much we try to fight it.
The warning voice in my head is frantic now—listing every reason, consequence, and line I shouldn’t cross.
But I ignore it, typing back the only thing that feels honest.
I think you already know the answer to that.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SADIE
Themorningairisstill crisp as I saddle the last horse, tightening the cinch one more time and tugging with more force than is probably necessary.
“Whoa, what did Buttercup do to you?” Emmett asks, appearing beside me, irritatingly calm. He rests a hand on the saddle and looks at me with a cheesy grin. “You choke that horse and you’re gonna have bigger problems than a loose strap.”
“I’m notchokingher.” I shoot him a glare, brushing a loose strand of hair out of my face. “Just making sure it doesn’t slip off and end up in a lawsuit.”
Emmett chuckles. “Cute. Did your lawyer daddy teach you that?”
My muscles tense at the mention of my father. “No. I told you I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Maybe not,” he says, circling around to double-check my work. “But you listen. That alone makes you better than half the summer crew.”
I cross my arms. “I’m being ‘voluntold’ because I actually utilize my ability to hear?”
He shrugs, completely unbothered. “Sure, close enough. Don’t worry—your services are only needed until Wes is back in the saddle. This is temporary.”
Thanks for the reminder.
“Yeah,” I mutter, looking over at the group of guests gathered by the hitching posts. Most of them are already sunburnt and buzzing with vacation energy. I check the cinch on Buttercup one more time, trying to remember all the safety tips we went over earlier.
Emmett’s voice softens as he runs a hand down Buttercup’s neck. “She was our mom’s horse.” His fingers brush through her mane, slow and careful. I glance up at him, and for once, there’s no smirk on his face.
“You’ll be fine,” he says, clapping me gently on the back. “You’ve got me leading, and Buttercup’s got a golden heart. We’ll take care of you.”
Five simple words. It’s stupid the way my heart reacts to thatwe. He didn’t mean it like that, but my brain can’t resist twisting it into something it’s not.
“You good with those reins, sweetheart?” a gruff voice calls behind me.
I glance over my shoulder to see one of the ranch hands leading out a sweet chestnut horse named Jasper.
The man is tall, broad-shouldered, and moves with an effortless, grounded confidence. His light brown hair curls slightly at the ends, long enough to touch the neckline of his shirt.
His sleeves are shoved up to his elbows, revealing lean, muscular forearms dusted with dirt and sun. Stubble shadows his sharp jaw, and his mouth is set in a straight line. His hat casts a shadow over his eyes, but I can still feel the intensity in them.
“I’m good,” I reply.
He nods and moves on to ask a couple if they need any help, abruptly ending our conversation.
