Page 56 of The Fire Line

Harris glanced back, his attention moving briefly over Jay’s hands, seat, and legs. “Better.”

The single word produced the same ridiculous satisfaction Jay had felt during the lesson.

“I assume you’ll issue a certificate at the end of the trip.”

“Assuming you make it.”

“There’s the faith I was looking for.”

Harris faced forward, but not before Jay caught the edge of a smile.

Riding required a surrender Jay disliked. He could climb backward down a wet embankment carrying a camera while directing Eli; on horseback, competence began with admitting the horse knew more than he did.

Humbling, but no longer entirely unfamiliar.

Harris had specifically chosen Jay for three days alone in the mountains.

For work, obviously.

There was a reason Jay did not develop crushes on straight men. The reason was self-respect.

Work was the only interpretation he intended to entertain.

* * *

Taking Navarro had been a serious lapse in judgment.

Harris had known that before sunrise. Probably before he wrote the man’s name on the itinerary.

Somewhere between deciding he needed to behave normally around Navarro and writing NAVARRO ONLY across a route map, Harris had apparently lost track of what normal meant.

There were legitimate reasons to bring him. Navarro knew what footage mattered, learned quickly, and Harris trusted his judgment now.

That should have been enough explanation.

It wasn’t.

Harris rode beneath the timber listening to Red’s hooves behind him. The morning air still held some coolness, though dust lifted wherever the horses crossed exposed soil.

This was not how Harris usually handled potential problems. He fixed weak fence before cattle found it, replaced bad wire before somebody got cut, and cleared dead timber before fire season. If something had a reasonable chance of becoming dangerous, Harris dealt with it early.

He did not invite it into the mountains for three days.

Behind him, Navarro said something quietly to Red. Harris glanced back and found him adjusting the camera harness, brown hair already working loose around his face. Navarro looked comfortable in the saddle now. Not experienced, but learning quickly. He had stopped trying to control every step and started paying attention to what the horse told him.

Harris faced forward.

There it was. The truth he had stopped bothering to disguise from himself.

He had wanted Navarro to come. Not because Eli could not do the job, and not only because Navarro could.

Harris wanted to be alone with him.

That was bad enough. Worse was the reason he had avoided examining when he left the itinerary on Navarro’s laptop: some reckless, deeply uncharacteristic part of him wanted to find out what might happen when nobody else was there to interrupt them.

No crew. No family. No Walt appearing with a broken fence and the correct radio.

Only the two of them, two nights from the ranch.