Page 52 of Wild and Wanted

The tyre tracks they’d been following veered off towards the trees, cutting a path through them to the cabin. Tipping her chin at it, she asked, ‘Who lives there?’

‘I do.’

Stevie blinked. She knew Clay lived on the ranch somewhere, he’d said as much the night he’d dropped her to the cabin after The Corral, but she’d assumed for some reason – too many of Yolly’s cowboy romances maybe – that he lived in some communal bunk house with the other cowhands.

Although, now she thought about it, the son of the owner and a former rodeo star who’d made bank during his career being relegated to a bunk did seem unlikely.

‘Oh,’ she said as the horses plodded by. ‘You must have an amazing view.’

‘Yeah.’ He smiled but more to himself than her. ‘It’s real pretty.’

‘Did you… build it?’ It looked rustic enough to be hand-hewn and from the little she’d gleaned about Clay in the almost two weeks she’d been here, it looked like something he was more than capable of doing.

‘My dad did actually. Dev, Kirby, Ivan and Walt all helped. They did it while I was in hospital doing my rehab stint. Mom thought it’d be good for me to have a place to convalesce away from the ranch activity.’

‘That was… very thoughtful.’

‘Yeah.’ He nodded. ‘She’s like that.’

Stevie laughed. Theresa was like that. She gave the cabin one last glance before it slipped behind them, the conversation piquing her curiosity about Clay’s accident once again. Her googling had been frustratingly generic. Back injury covered a multitude of possibilities especially considering, from the outside at least, Clay appeared to be normal.

She’d love to know more about the injury that had ended his career, but it wasn’t really any of her business. Probably something he didn’t talk about.

Although maybe he’d talk about it to her?

Like she’d told him some of her stuff. Or was that just a one-way street for him? The man on the horse that first day hadn’t looked like a guy who opened up to anyone, but the guy who’d listened to her sing in the stables, who’d held her after he’d brought her to climax and chatted with her in the hayloft?

That guy might.

Broaching the subject tentatively, she said, ‘Tell me to mind my own beeswax if you want but… can I ask you about the injury?’

He regarded her for long moments before looking away, his body bobbing fluidly with the rhythm of his horse like he’d been born in a saddle. ‘Google didn’t tell you?’

‘Google was frustratingly non-specific.’

Clearly amused by her honesty, he hooted out a laugh, which was unexpected, and Stevie laughed too. ‘Seriously, if this is something you don’t usually talk about you don’t have to tell me.’

Oh, but she wanted him to.

‘I don’t usually talk about it,’ he admitted, his steady amber eyes staring at her from under the brim of his hat. ‘But…’ He gave a deprecating smile. ‘I seem to want to tell you everything.’

The air stilled in Stevie’s lungs at the admission. She seemed to want to know everything.

Another few beats passed before Clay looked ahead and started talking. ‘I was riding a horse called Pegasus. Real mean. Take Electra and multiply that by ten. He lives to buck.’

He laughed then like he was remembering the thrill of riding this demon horse that was giving Stevie the shudders. What on earth did Clay get out of doing something so dangerous?

‘I managed to best him though and Pegasus does not like to be bested. That bell rang at eight seconds and I whooped so loud he gave one final spiral twist buck combo right out of the pits of hell and tossed me off. But in a freak set of circumstances my rigging slipped and my foot got stuck as I went down, which meant Pegasus, who was looking for revenge, took the opportunity to stomp on my back a few times before they freed my foot.’

Stevie winced. ‘I didn’t understand a lot of those words.’ Or really why anyone would do it. ‘But stomp on my back seems self-explanatory.’

Another deprecating laugh. ‘Yep. Broke it in three places, shattered several vertebrae causing major spinal swelling and contusions which caused some temporary paralysis down my right leg as well as several rib fractures and a lacerated spleen.’

A sick slick of bile rose in Stevie’s mouth at the thought, worming its way through her head. He could have been killed. And that was utterly horrifying. So much so she pulled Gertie to a stop and gaped at the back of his head.

She was extra pleased now she’d decided not to watch that video.

She’d known Clay Calhoun for less than two weeks and she couldn’t bear the thought that he might have been killed that day. He’d already taken over her entire life – for the better. What if she’d never met him because he’d gotten his damn fool body kicked to death by an angry horse?