Page 28 of One Wild Chance

I don’t want a hate kiss. I want to get back to the barn, put some ice on my elbow, and forget this ever happened.

Next thing I know, he mounts the horse behind me in one smooth motion, and suddenly, we are very close. Even closer than when I almost tripped over him in Rosie’s stall.

His arm comes around me to hold the reins, and his chest brushes against my back.

“You good?” he asks so close to my ear it makes a tingle rush down my spine.

No, I’m not good. I’m unwell with this man practically spooning me on a saddle.

“Just take us back to the barn.” I clear my throat, not daring to look over my shoulder at him. Only the brim of my hat is keeping us apart.

What would it be like to hate-kiss Jaxon Chance? We never kissed in high school and we never technically dated. We were just two rivals with chemistry. Right now, the fact that I’m thinking about this is problematic.

He starts us forward at a slow walk, Rebel trailing behind on the lead. “Elbow still hurting?”

“I’ll survive. Not my first fall. Certainly won’t be my last.”

“Try not to make a habit of it.” I can hear the smirk in his tone. “Can’t afford to lose you right now.”

He didn’t say I’m glad you’re okay. Just that he couldn’t afford to lose me.

I keep my eyes forward. “You won’t.”

We ride the rest of the way in silence, and when we get back to the stable doors, he slides off first and then reaches for me without asking.

“I can jump off myself,” I say.

“You most certainly won’t.” I can tell by his tone that there’s no room for arguing.

“Jaxon, I’m not broken,” I insist. “It’s just a sore elbow.”

“Stop being stubborn.” His hands find my waist. “And let me help.”

He won’t let me off this horse until I accept his help. He lifts me off easily, our bodies brushing for a few seconds. When my feet touch the ground, I look up and realize his eyes are locked with mine. Heat flames through my middle—from his hands on my sides, his stormy gaze searching my face, the fact that I haven’t been touched like this in years.

He’s too closed off for me to read, keeping his emotions under lock and key every time I’m near him. His cheeks are slightly burned from the sun, and stubble peppers his jaw. The country air suits him well.

I step back before he can see the flush across my neck. “Thanks again.”

“Welcome.” His voice is a little rough. “I know you didn’t want the help.”

“Only needed it because I fell.”

What is wrong with me? I can’t even stop arguing with him when I’m trying to thank him for helping me.

His lips twist. “Right.” Then he takes Rebel’s lead. “You need ice for that elbow?”

“I can get it myself.”

“Didn’t ask if you could.” He glances over his shoulder at me. “Asked if you wanted it.”

I nod once and he leaves. I’m supposed to be the one teaching him how this farm works. Instead, he’s teaching me how to accept his help. And I learned a long time ago not to.

Chapter 9

Jaxon

Summer’s truck is parked outside the old barn the next morning. She comes out carrying two galvanized buckets of flowers, her elbow a faded purple bruise from the fall she took yesterday.