Page 14 of Saddle Storm

I lived for our summers together.

Until I walked in on a fight between Mr. Dalton and Dad, and heard enough to solidify what I think I always knew—I didn’t belong anywhere near her. It was barely a year after Mom’s death. I’d fallen deeper into hockey and just being anywhere but on the ranch. But like Mom, Storm made these fields easier to walk through. And even after spending most of that year avoiding it, I found myself looking forward to reconnecting—and not just with Storm.

Storm scans the other stalls before facing me again and for the briefest of seconds, we’re at a standoff. And I finally get a full look at her. Dust-covered faded jeans that hug her hips but are loose below the knee. Work gloves clipped to her belt, blonde hair in a single braid now hung around her right shoulder. Sharp eyes I can’t seem to read anymore.

“Thanks for your help,” I say before she can get mean again, which I’m not going to lie, hasn’t been easy to digest during our few encounters here at the ranch since I found out she worked here.

I’ve known Storm since I was ten. Never thought of her as unattractive, but somehow completely missed how beautiful she is until the day I saw her again. It was last year on Dallas’s driveway. She was bringing Trouble by to the new barn Dallas built for her outside his house. At first I thought it was the shock of seeing her again. And maybe it was that, combined with steady hazel eyes, full lips, high cheekbones. A quiet strength in her posture. It’s not arrogance. It’s more of a guarded self-assuredness. A challenge for someone to try and knock her down.

Why would anyone ever try?

I sure as hell wouldn’t dare. Not when she looked like she belonged here. And probably doesn’t think I do.

And she’d be right. Most of my trips home revolve around family dinners, sleeping off jetlag, and disappearing again. I didn’t exactly make it a point to come over to this side of the ranch—where I knew I’d find her—with enough time for small talk before I left town again.

And if I’m honest, she might’ve had something to do with my cabin fever these last few days. Somehow I sensed this hostility from across the rolling fields.

My gratitude seems to redirect whatever she was about to say, since her brows furrow briefly. “Yeah, well. Wouldn’t want to get in trouble for letting my boss’s little brother get beaten up by his own horse.” A smirk plays on her lips.

I close the distance between us to the point where Storm leans back to keep her eyes on mine. My six-foot-four height dominating the air between us. I don’t touch her. I don’t say anything. For a moment, I remember what it’s like to fill a room with my presence. And a familiar thrill returns.

I have no idea what my intention is—but it’s not to swallow her shadow with mine. It’s certainly not to intimidate her.

If anything, it’s to correct her. I may be the youngest of the Thorne brothers, but I am in no way little. I’ve taken on a pack of hockey players when games get rough and held my own without so much as a sprain. I could handle a horse. Maybe not a pack, but I could certainly handle mine. Or did she forget we were trained by the same woman?

Hockey made me a man the way I couldn’t become one here. And I’ll be damned if I let a girl I thought I knew shrink me back into something small.

Storm keeps her chin tilted, even as her cheeks turn pink.

Now it’s my turn to smirk.

“Then I guess I’d better get out of here before I hurt myself.”

She swallows, dropping her eyes to my chest and releasing a breath. I can tell she’s struggling with something to say, so I spare her.

My eyes dip to the tip of her chin where a giant bee sting once lived for over a week because this girl always had her nose buried in sunflowers.

“See you around, Bumble Bee.”

I step around her and make my exit, leaving her alone in the stables, where I clearly had no business being.

5

The sky is already starting to fade into that deeper blue color that tells me I needed to clock out about thirty minutes ago. I grab my jacket off the hook and swing the stable door open, then lock it behind me. Pausing momentarily to do a quick run-through of the day.

Shoot.

I didn’t log the afternoon rides. I bang my head against the wood and keep it there as I argue with myself.

One of us wins and I decide I’ll do it in the morning. I shift into my denim jacket and start toward the ranch office. I could feel the day in my bones, not just my muscles. It’s been an unusually long day.

The early morning went all right, I suppose. It was the late morning that spun me out of control for the rest of the day.

After finding Silas in the stables.

I knew he was staying here for a while. Knew he was injured. Wilder mentioned it just the other day when I stopped in the Saddle Room for coffee. Said it’s been nice having his brother stick around longer than a few hours, without feeling like he’s going to bolt back to the city any minute.

I was prepared to see him again. It would only be natural, since he’ll be living here for the next few weeks.