Page 59

Someone taught you the world isn’t safe.

Her muscles twitch under her skin, coiled tight, like she’s holding herself together by force alone.

I don’t reach for her or move closer. I just stand there.

Waiting.

Because pushing a horse like this only proves what she already believes.

That everything that comes near her...

hurts.

I hear a car in the distance, and Indigo startles. Her head jerks up, ears pinning back as her whole body tenses. She sidesteps sharply, hooves striking hard against the dirt, muscles bunching as she half-rears, ready to bolt.

I step back, giving her space so she doesn’t take me down with her.

“Easy,” I mutter, keeping my voice low as she paces along the fence line, nostrils flaring.

I close the gate and let her settle, her movements still sharp, restless, before I turn toward the sound.

A car comes to a stop in front of D’s old house. Strange.

Probably another bastard trying to buy this land to build some luxury hotel. Vultures.

I’m almost to my truck when the door swings open and a woman stumbles out. Her oversized tote slips from her shoulder and hits the ground, the sharp clink of glass cutting through the quiet.

“Fucking bag and fucking heat,” she mutters as she crouches to gather her things.

Her dark, almost black hair is twisted into a messy knot on top of her head, and oversized square sunglasses hide half her face. A grey hoodie that looks at least two sizes too big hangs off her body over black leggings and tennis shoes.

A bottle of gin rolls free and heads straight toward me.

I stop it with the toe of my boot.

She’s cursing in what sounds like Italian, the words coming quick and sharp as she tries to shove everything back into her bag, and I have to fight a smile.

Why the hell am I smiling?

“Lost?” I ask, picking up the bottle.

Her head snaps up, full lips already pulled into a frown as she straightens.

“You’re trespassing, ma’am.”

I hold out the bottle. She snatches it from my hand.

“I am not.”

Her gaze drags over me, and I remember I took my shirt off because of the heat.

“What are you doing on my husband’s property?” she demands, crossing her arms. “And why aren’t you dressed?”

I tilt my head.

Husband?

Something about her suddenly feels familiar, but with those fucking glasses covering half her face, I can’t place her.