Page 14 of Paper Horses

“And what cares do you have?” I asked.

Her eyes grew distant, the light leaving them as it sometimes did. She carried something heavy, but she wouldn’t tell me. Whatever it was, I wouldn’t push because she was happy when it was gone, and with me, it was gone. Most times.

“None,” she finally said, her smile returning. “Not when I’m with you.”

A breeze blew strands of her long auburn hair over her face, and I pushed them back, losing myself in her eyes.

“Fuck, Olivia⁠—”

“Language,” she scolded, and I leaned forward and nipped her bottom lip.

“Ouch,” she said with a loud laugh.

“Leave my language alone. I like cussing, and you’re not changing that.”

“I wouldn’t think of changing you. Even your bad words.”

I shook my head and brushed my thumb over her lips. “I love you, Olivia. So fucking much.”

The words fell as naturally as my swearing did, and she didn’t flinch. Instead, she leaned closer and brushed her lips over mine.

“I love you, too, Hudson. Maybe not your language, but you, I love.”

My fingers tangled through her hair, and I kissed her. She parted her lips, and I deepened the kiss, my tongue dancing with hers. Heated and tempting. It wasn’t long before I had her on the grass, my hand flush against her skin and aching to go further, but I stopped our kiss, hovering over her before I dragged my lips down her neck.

“Be a good girl and tell me you love me again.”

A shiver ran the length of her body. I didn’t know where that ‘good girl’ had come from, but if she shivered that deliciously when I said it, it would become my new favorite set of words.

“I love you,” she breathed, and the words wove their way through me, etching her name so deeply into my heart that I knew I would never want to remove it.

“God, Hudson, this is so much land.”

Olivia’s voice brought me back to the present, where her arms were no longer loosely locked around my neck and her gorgeous smile no longer lit my soul.

I cleared my throat, hating the memory and wishing it hadn’t resurfaced.

“This is just one of the cattle pastures. We would move them through the farm to preserve the land.”

I clicked my tongue to get the horse moving again, ignoring the sensation in my chest and of her hands on my stomach.

In silence, I took her through the grazing pastures that no longer had use, then headed south back toward the house.

“What’s over there?” she asked, pointing toward the trees.

“Nothing. It backs up to the neighboring ranch.”

“You back to another farm?”

“Yes, the Johnsons. And it’s a ranch, not a farm.”

“Like there’s a difference.” I wanted to tell her there was, but she continued before I could. “And they have cattle?”

“Sure do. They bought the property about twenty years before I settled in from a family who had owned it for three generations. Took over production and grew the business. A few acres of trees separate the pastures.”

“Stop,” she huffed.

I shot her an annoyed glance, stopping the horse. She released my waist, fumbling to dismount, and I couldn't help but shake my head at how she slid down with absolutely no grace. Hands on her hips, she trudged away, her eyes on the tree line. She turned her head from the overgrown pasture back to the trees, concentration eclipsing her features.