Page 46 of Sunrise & Serenity

We stop in front of Cozy’s stall. “Losing patience around animals doesn’t help anyone learn.”

She cocks her head, a slow smile lighting her face. “Are you talking about the horse or me?”

“I’m pretty sure only one of you can be cajoled with mints.”

“True. I guess my weakness is coffee.”

I should suggest that Taryn take her into town to buy a coffee maker. Or, hell, I could offer to take her myself.

But I don’t.

“Your legs will probably be stiff tomorrow,” I tell her. “We’ll leave your next lesson for a few days.”

“Thanks.” She scratches Cozy between the eyes. “Thank you, too, Cozy. For letting me ride you.”

The image hits me without warning—Sage straddling me, head tipped back, dark hair cascading down her spine…

Jesus Christ. She was talking to a goddamn horse.

Shoving the thoughts aside, I focus on showing her how to unsaddle the mare, then remove her bridle and replace it with a halter. I swing the stall door open and lead Cozy inside, then grab two brushes so Sage can help me brush her down.

We work quietly, but it isn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it’s soothing. I catch myself smiling at the way Sage murmurs to the mare as she moves around her.

At one point, our hands meet as we stroke over Cozy’s now-shiny coat. A little spark, almost like a static shock, passes between us.

Yet neither of us pulls away.

CHAPTER 12

SAGE

“Are you excited?” Taryn asks as she scrambles into the back seat of Holden’s truck.

It’s barely eight on a Saturday morning, and even after a couple of weeks at Wild Ember, Taryn’s energy still amazes me.

I twist so I can see her from the passenger seat. “I’ve never been to a livestock auction before, so I’m not sure what to expect. I don’t doubt it will be interesting, though.”

Holden mutters something under his breath as he turns the key in the ignition, and Taryn leans forward to address him.

“You can grumble all you like, but I know how competitive you are. You’ll be searching for the best horses, just like Chance. Even if it’s only to get the better of the Ashlands.”

“The Ashlands?” Why does that name sound familiar?

Taryn sinks back. “They own the land on the other side of the river. There’s, like, some bad blood between our families that goes back ages. And, you know, boys being boys…” She rolls her eyes. “There’s always a competition over who gets the best bloodstock at these things.”

I remember now. Holden mentioned the Ashlands that morning on the trail. “How did it start?”

“Water,” Holden answers.

He’s following Chance and Sterling, who are ahead of us in a truck towing a large horse trailer, with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the gear stick, close to the bare skin of my leg.

Trying not to let myself get distracted by that, I dig for more. “Water? What do you mean?”

His eyes meet mine for a moment before he focuses ahead again. “It’s got to do with water rights and who settled the land first. Paperwork says it was us, meaning we get first claim to the water during dry spells. The Ashlands have always disputed it, and they’ve resented us ever since.”

Taryn rolls her eyes. “All you really need to know is that if the Ashlands are here today, Chance is going to pretend he doesn’t care what they buy.” She grins. “He absolutely does.”

After about half an hour, we drive under a sign that reads Silverford County Fairgrounds, then pass another sign on the side of the road advertising the Silverford County Annual Livestock Auction.