Page 26 of Boss and Brat

Ethan looked over at her. “She’s beautiful. She must be important if you moved her from Texas.”

Instead of answering, he nodded toward the tack room. “Let’s get them saddled.”

Ethan brushed Storm’s neck, fingers gentle, voice soft. Watching him for too long brought the heavy truth into sharp focus.

He could keep his distance. He could follow the rules. He could protect Ethan. But wanting him? That wasn’t going anywhere.

Chapter Eleven

Ethan tightened Storm’s cinch and swung into the saddle, the leather creaking under him. Carter mounted up beside him on his horse, moving with that controlled ease that got under Ethan’s skin. The guy looked like he’d been born in a saddle—straight back, steady hands, hat pulled low enough to shadow his eyes.

“Lead the way,” Carter said.

Ethan nodded and nudged Storm forward. The trail behind the stables wound through a stretch of open pasture, the grass brushing their boots as they rode. The sky hung wide and pale, clouds drifting slowly. Carter rode a little behind him, but Ethan felt his gaze now and then from the quick glances he pretended not to notice.

Every time Ethan looked back, Carter looked away just as fast.

They reached a small rise overlooking the creek, the water cutting a thin silver line through the land. Ethan guided Storm down the slope like he’d done a hundred times with tourists—steady pace, easy turns, letting the horse pick his footing.

“You always ride like that?” Carter asked.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re leading a group.”

Ethan shrugged. “Old habit.”

Carter’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. “Not a bad one.”

They kept riding until they reached an old apple tree near the fence line. The branches hung low, heavy with fruit. Ethan swung down first, boots hitting the dirt, and reached up to pull an apple free. Carter dismounted beside him, close enough that Carter’s warmth radiated through the breeze. Ethan tossed him an apple. Carter caught it one-handed, the movement smooth, practiced.Marine reflexes. The thought made something tighten in his chest.

They leaned against the fence, eating in comfortable silence. The apples were crisp, sweet, and juice running down Ethan’s wrist. Carter wiped his thumb across his own wrist, then glanced at Ethan again—another quick look, gone too fast.

“So this is the ride you give paying customers?” Carter asked.

“Yeah,” Ethan said. “Pretty much.”

Carter nodded slowly, eyes on him instead of the view. “Bet they loved it.”

Ethan snorted. “They liked the horses. Not me.”

“That’s not true,” Carter said, voice low. “You’ve got a way of making people feel safe out here.”

Ethan froze for half a second. No one had ever said anything like that to him. Not about him. Not about something he did well.

He looked down at the apple in his hand, trying to hide the heat creeping up his neck. “It’s just a trail ride.”

“Maybe,” Carter said. “But you make it feel like more.”

Ethan didn’t know what to do with that. Compliments from Carter hit different—heavier, warmer, like they landed somewhere he didn’t have defenses built.

He risked a glance at Carter. And Carter was already looking at him. They both looked away at the same time. Storm snorted behind him, shaking out his mane. Carter’s horse pawed in the dirt, impatient to move again.

Ethan cleared his throat. “We should head back.”

“Yeah,” Carter said, but he didn’t move right away. “Ethan?”

“Yeah?”