Page 47 of The Fire Line

The equipment room came back with remarkable clarity: Harris appearing in the doorway while Jay’s shirt was over his head, going abruptly still, then turning his attention to the radio shelf with considerably more determination than the task seemed to require.

All that concentration, and he’d still grabbed the wrong radio.

The setup was too good to waste.

“Should I be flattered?”

Harris looked up. “By what?”

“Apparently my changing shirts caused a complete collapse in ranch communications.”

Color appeared above the collar of his henley.

Jay smiled.

“You were blocking the shelf.”

“I was three feet from it.”

“You were in the way.”

“Emotionally, perhaps.”

Harris stared at him.

“Get off the horse, Navarro.”

“There he is.”

Jay dismounted carefully. Harris steadied the saddle, one hand resting against Rain’s side while he watched Jay’s movement.

“Better,” he said when Jay reached the ground.

“Careful. I’ll start thinking you believe in me.”

“Wouldn’t go that far.”

Jay passed him the reins. “Thank you for the lesson.”

“Wasn’t much.”

“It was more than I knew an hour ago.”

Harris lowered his attention to Rain and loosened the cinch while Jay collected his camera bag.

“Do you want the footage?” Jay asked.

Harris glanced over. “Why would I?”

“To review your teaching methods. Identify areas for improvement.”

“Go bother Eli.”

“That’s already on my schedule.”

Jay started toward the gate, then looked back.

Harris stood with the saddle balanced against one hip and the wrong radio clipped once again to his belt. He had spent more than an hour explaining things Jay did not strictly need to know, adjusting his stirrups, hands, posture, and reins after spending the better part of a week behaving as though casual conversation might violate ranch policy.