Page 93 of The Fire Line

Jay did not seem to be having an easier time. Harris caught him looking more than once, and by lunch their attempts at discretion had acquired the strained quality of two men concentrating much too hard on not doing something. They had agreed this would stay private. What neither of them had accounted for was how difficult privacy became when wanting someone made every empty room look like an opportunity.

Harris was checking the stitching on a breast collar after lunch when someone entered the tack room behind him.

He knew who it was before Jay spoke.

“Is this one of the places where you pretend to be busy until I leave?”

It took more effort than it should have for Harris to keep his attention on the leather. “Actually busy.”

“That must be nice.”

Jay came farther inside. The tack room was cooler than the barn aisle, though not by much. Leather and saddle soap held the day’s warmth, and dust moved through a strip of sunlight near the doorway. Outside, Noah was talking near the wash rack while one of the wranglers answered from the stalls. Close enough to hear. Close enough to walk in.

Harris set down the breast collar. “You still mad?”

“Yes.” Jay leaned one shoulder against the wall.

“All right.”

“That’s it?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know. Something defensive, perhaps. You’re depriving me of an argument for which I prepared extensively.”

“Sorry.”

Jay stared at him long enough that Harris felt the corner of his mouth threaten him.

“That was upsettingly close to sincere,” Jay said.

“Don’t get used to it.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

The familiar rhythm eased something that had been sitting tight beneath Harris’s ribs all morning, though Jay’s expression remained more serious than his words.

“I’m not angry that you were inexperienced,” he said. “I need you to understand that.”

“Do.”

“I’m angry because you decided what I was allowed to know before touching me.”

Harris glanced toward the open doorway. Nobody had appeared there, though the voices outside remained an irritating reminder that anybody could.

“Know that too.”

“And?”

“And you were right.”

That quieted Jay.

The admission was not easy, but Harris had spent the previous night saying harder things. Apparently honesty did not become pleasant simply because he had agreed to try it more often.

“I should’ve told you,” he said. “Won’t do it again.”

“Lie to me?”