Page 91 of Lucky Haven

The next afternoon, Ridge interrupts a silent drive home with Haven, calling my cell phone as I turn off the range road.

“Hey buddy,” I say as I answer it. “I’ve got Haven in the truck with me. Don’t say anything rude.”

“The fucking bull escaped again!” It sounds like he pulls the phone away from his ear, yells at someone—or some animal—then comes back. “What did you say?”

“Never mind. Where’s the bull?”

“Probably running toward you right now. He got through the north fence this time.”

“All right. Hang on.” I glance across the cab to Haven. “Sorry. We gotta run interference.”

She shrugs. “It’s okay.”

Our ranch is the last property on the gravel road, but it continues as a dirt track, running along the north side of our ranch. Instead of turning under the gate that announces Kincaid’s Refuge, we head straight, and it doesn’t take long before I see Ridge’s stubborn, freedom-seeking asshole is on the trail.

“Yeah, he’s out here,” I say to my brother over the speaker phone. “You coming on horseback?”

“Yep.”

I put my truck in park.

“Stay here,” I say to Haven before grabbing my phone and hopping out.

She doesn’t listen.

It’s fine. A bull that’s proving to be a bit of an escape artist is probably more blustery than dangerous. He knows where home is.

I still think about ordering her back in the truck, because I want her to stay as safe as fucking possible.

But she’s already reading the situation, watching the bull and flanking wide, keeping her distance. She knows what she’s doing, maybe just by instinct. Maybe because she’s read a fuck ton of books, about an endless number of scenarios. Maybe she’s read a cowboy romance with this exact scene in it. Whatever the reason, she knows what she’s doing.

She’s smarter than even I give her credit for.

And if I treat her like glass right now, on top of everything else, she’s going to shatter, then pick up one of those shards and stab me with it just to prove a point.

We push him together slowly, no sudden movements, our arms wide.

The bull swings his head, blows hard through his nose, decides we’re more trouble than we’re worth.

Haven keeps her line without me having to say a word.

By the time Ridge comes up the track, the bull is reluctantly heading back in the right direction. My brother climbs his horse well out of the way until they’re on our side of the bull, and then he takes over and we’re relieved of our duty.

Haven brushes her hands together and turns around.

Her shoulder grazes mine as she passes.

And she walks back to the truck without looking at me.

We’re still not talking, but it’s a different kind of silence than this morning.

The message is loud and clear. We can work together. We don’t need to dwell in messy feelings that are too complicated for this moment, that will never be resolved in a way that can make both of us fully happy.

“You were great back there,” I say as I slowly back my truck up the track. “Thank you.”

“Any time.” She stares out the window as the ranch gate comes into view. “It was pretty cool to pretend to be a cowgirl there for a minute.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight