Page 25 of Saddle Storm

Slowly, I walk him around the pen and then across a few times, until he stops drifting toward the fence. Once I get him to a straight even pace, I make a mental note to get Max over here later—since he’ll be the one walking him.

Pride and a bit of paranoia swell inside me, nearly steering me off course.

By some miracle, at Dallas and Willow’s last wedding—the fake one—I was able to get one of my old friends at Callahan Ranch to watch him. Avoiding any run-ins with Silas. There’s no avoiding this one.

I hook Cupid’s rope over the fence while I fetch Winter, a white pony with a bright coat. She’s six years old and only a year into training. But she’s energetic, a little mischievous, and I’m pretty sure she knows just how cute she is with her big, wide eyes.

I’m not sure how much time passes when I start to feel the ache in my shoulders. It couldn’t have been more than two hours since I’d been out here with them.

Removing my right glove, I press my fingers into the back of my neck, applying enough pressure to hold me until the afternoon. Or at least until I can stand under a hot shower later. I’m feeling optimistic about having enough hot water running this evening.

I roll it once, easing out the knot, then get back to work.

“Don’t they give you a day off around here?” Silas’s voice comes from just behind the gate and I flip my head back, feeling the pull of tight muscles along my neck.

I straighten and tug Winter’s attention—and mine— away from the newcomer. “Eyes forward, girl. Keep moving.”

“Storm,” he calls in a low, breathy growl. And my body responds with a shiver. I hate that I react at all, much less know that when I turn to look at him—all broad-shouldered and hard lines—it’ll do more damage to my self-respect.

I place my hand over Winter as a way to settle both her and myself before turning to him. His face is unfairly handsome in that subdued masculine way that makes it impossible to look away.

“Take a break.” It’s almost an order and my instincts are to tell him to fuck off. Remind him he doesn’t run this ranch and certainly doesn’t get to tell me what to do.

But then there’s that face again. Those eyes, barely blinking as he urges me to come closer.

And lord help me, I want to.

Winter shifts impatiently, tugging me, and I’ve just about had it with her.

“Tell you what,” I call, taking back control—from both the man and the pony. “You get Winter here to walk a straight line and I’ll take a break.”

His eyes flick to the young mare. “And we’ll pick up where we left off yesterday?”

I perk a brow. Thought for sure he’d tell me to stop playing around and summon me again. “If you can get her to walk from here to the other end—yes.”

He flicks the latch and steps inside the pen.

I notice how white his sneakers are. Can smell the clean soap and aftershave. Even the sling doesn’t dull the masculinity he carries.

My breath stalls when he steps into my space, unrushed and unapologetic. Corner of his lip quirking like he knows exactly what it does to me when the air between us tightens. He stretches his good hand, eyes never leaving mine.

I blink and hold Winter’s rope up for him. His fingers graze mine and the spark is immediate. Sending an unwelcome jolt straight up my arm.

I jerk my hand away and step back next to Cupid, who doesn’t seem fazed by the newcomer and is probably wondering how many carrots he’ll get for keeping those key chains on his back.

I stroke him absently as I watch Silas, who took the lead rope like it was familiar enough not to embarrass himself. Then leads her to the start of the line.

Should I feel bad that he has the disadvantage of using only his left arm? Probably. But considering what he wants from me—I’m not exactly rooting for him.

Winter clocks his uncertainty immediately and it makes me smile.

Yeah, he’s not fooling me either.

She drifts sideways, nose tipping toward the fence.

Silas adjusts his grip, murmuring low encouragement and I’m not sure if it’s to the mare or himself.

I giggle silently and he glances over, brows furrowed.