Page 54 of Wild and Wanted

Why else had he been riding Electra that day? Even after nearly being stomped to death and a spine full of metal, Clay Calhoun somehow thought he was bulletproof.

‘I’m sorry it ended that way,’ she said quietly, because she really was. Sure, she was glad of it, too, but she could feel what a body blow it had been for Clay. ‘That can’t have been easy.’

He shook his head, his mouth flattening into a grim line at what must have sounded like a trite platitude. ‘Imagine,’ he said, his voice deep as pitch, ‘if something happened to you and you couldn’t write songs any more.’

Oof.

It was said without malice, but it hit Stevie square in the solar plexus. So much so the palm of her hand subconsciously flattened over the spot. It was a testament to how much he’d listened to her that he knew exactly where to aim.

That he hadn’t said perform, he’d said write.

Writing songs was her oxygen. It was how she made sense of the world. Even after Yolly’s death she could still write songs. Writing songs had gotten her through her darkest hours. Like the promise of the circuit had gotten Clay through his.

Stevie didn’t know who she was if she wasn’t doing that. And the fact that this man knew that was both heartening and disconcerting.

‘Yeah.’ She nodded because there was nothing else she could say to that other than maybe touché. Clay understood her and now, thanks to his ability to boil them both down to their most basic parts, she understood him, too.

Neither of them moved for long beats, they just sat, the horses quiet and patient beneath them as if they knew they were witnessing something important.

‘Come on then,’ he murmured, a slow smile disrupting the grim set of his mouth, letting in a crack of light through the darkness that had descended upon him during their discussion. ‘This day is too beautiful to waste on depressing shit from my past. There’s a tree with our name on it and my mother’s chocolate brownies to devour.’

Stevie, already a fan of Theresa’s brownies, perked up. ‘After you,’ she murmured.

16

STEVIE

They’d been trotting along for fifteen minutes when the topography slowly flattened to rolling pasture again. Apart from Clay pointing out the odd landmark of interest, they hadn’t talked and Stevie, in an effort to ignore the ache between her legs from the intimate rub of the saddle, had tuned in to her surroundings. To the smell of the grassland, the golden haze of sunshine, the arc of cloudless blue sky, the occasional call of an eagle soaring high and the rhythm of the horse between her thighs.

Not to mention the presence of the cowboy.

All of it stirred music in her head and she wished she’d brought her guitar so she could pick out a few of the chords that were already wafting through the magical ether of her inner creative cauldron.

‘Fancy picking up the pace a bit? We’re about ten minutes away from our destination at this speed but only five if we go a little faster?’

Stevie blinked at both the intrusion into her thoughts and at his suggestion. ‘I haven’t cantered before.’

‘I was thinking more of a gallop. If you want – it’s up to you. But it’s wide open here and as much as I hate to admit it, Mags has taught you well. You’ve handling Gertie with textbook ease and you look relaxed and confident in the saddle.’

A rush of delight at his compliments went straight to Stevie’s head. She didn’t imagine Clay was one to dish out false praise particularly when it came to riding horses. And it wasn’t like he was doing it to flatter his way into her panties because he’d already talked her out of them before their day had even begun.

So yeah, his compliments meant a lot.

‘I’ll tell Mags you said so.’

He barked out a laugh. ‘God, please don’t, she’ll be impossible.’

Stevie grinned. ‘Okay, fine.’

‘What do you say?’ he asked, waggling his eyebrows. ‘You up for pushing the envelope?’

Adrenaline jettisoned into Stevie’s veins, kicking her pulse up a notch. What pushing the envelope meant to Mr-Rodeo-Death-Wish guy was probably a very different scenario to Stevie’s city-girl-safety-first pushing the envelope, but the fact Clay would be right by her side gave her a kick of courage.

‘Yeah.’ She nodded. ‘A bit.’

‘How about I put on a little speed, which Gertie will follow. And then if you’re okay with that I’ll take it up a bit more. If it’s too much at any stage just holler. You control how fast we go.’

His casualness, like he had no doubt she could do this, was the kind of faith in her ability Stevie needed. ‘Okay.’ She nodded, his confidence infecting hers.