Page 6

Five minutes before the clock hits, I’m already outside her door. I knock once, sharp. “You decent?”

Her voice comes back too quick, too nervous. “Yep! I’m ready.”

The door swings open, and there she is. Red hair loose now, tumbling around her shoulders in a mess that looks accidentally perfect. She’s changed into jeans and a pale, low-cut tee that clings to her curves in a way that makes my pulse spike. She’s got real boots on her feet. Inez smiles, but her hands are tight around the strap of her bag, knuckles white.

I grin, slow and deliberate. “Nice boots.”

She shrugs, trying for cool. “I stopped at the boot store in Silver Spoon Falls. A very aggressive saleswoman promised me these would work for the hard work.”

Probably should hug that saleswoman. I step aside so she can walk out, her damn perfume hitting me right in the primitive part of my brain. Hank trots along, tongue lolling, dog bed nowhere in sight this time. Maybe she’s getting smarter already.

We head out to the barn. Heat blasts us in the face—midday in Texas, air thick as hell. Inside, the tack room is marginally cooler thanks to stone walls and a cross-breeze, but the place smells like leather, hay, saddle oil, old sweat, and the memory of every horse we’ve ever run through the chutes.

She pauses just inside, lips parted. “Wow.”

I haul a battered saddle off the rack, the leather creaking a familiar song in my arms. “First lesson. This stuff,” I say, plopping it down on the workbench. “What do you recognize?”

She blinks, nervous as hell. “Um. That’s a saddle. The thingy underneath is… a pad? And those are stirrups.”

Not the worst guess. I nod, keeping my mouth in a neutral line. “Bridle,” I tap each piece, “cinch, breast collar, and yeah, the pad. Close enough.”

She stares, soaking up every word. I talk her through each part, the buckles, the straps, the why behind every bit. She listens better than most grown men I’ve taught.

Once she’s got the basics down, I bring out Dolly. The brood mare is sweet as syrup but not the kind to take shit. She stands in the alley, ears flicking forward, watching Inez like she knows exactly what’s coming.

I gesture her forward. “Don’t look her right in the eye. Stand at her shoulder, let her catch your scent. Hand out flat.”

Inez takes a small step, then another, her gaze fixed on me as if she’s navigating a field of hidden explosives. She holds out her hand exactly as I’ve instructed. Dolly stretches her neck, sniffs the air, then nudges Inez’s open palm with a soft, whiskered muzzle. A surprised laugh catches in Inez’s throat.

“She likes you,” I say, softer than before.

Inez beams, feeding off the animal’s warmth. Behind her, Hank settles into a pile of hay, clearly unconcerned he’s being left out of the fun.

I pat Dolly’s neck. “She’s your ride today. I’ll show you how to mount up.”

We guide the mare into position next to the fence rail. I demo it once, slow and clear, foot in the left stirrup, swing up, land soft. Then I slide down, dust my jeans, and nod at Inez.

“Your turn. Left foot here. Grab the horn.”

She does, frowning in concentration. Starts to push up, but the boot slips off the stirrup, and she loses her center of gravity. Her whole body pitches toward the dirt.

Instinct takes over. I lunge forward and catch her waist, both hands locking around her, so she never even brushes the ground.

She looks over her shoulder at me, breathing hard. Heat comes off her skin in waves. I feel her all the way to my bones. My cock turns to stone in my jeans as I hold her curvy body close.

For two seconds, neither of us moves. Her heart’s going a mile a minute beneath my palms. I could count every rib through the thin fabric of her shirt, but all I’m thinking is how good she feels, soft and solid in my grip.

Her eyes find mine, big and green, a little wild around the edges. I don’t let go, not right away.

Then I set her carefully back on the ground and step away, even though every cell in my body is telling me to keep her close.

“Let’s try it old school. Give me your foot.”

She blinks, licking her lips. “What—oh. Okay.” She puts her hand on my shoulder and I lace my fingers, make a cradle, and let her step in.

“Ready?” My voice is low. She nods, no sound at all. I hoist her up and help balance her as she lands in the saddle.

I look up.