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“Meaning?”
“That I don’t want to lose Black Magic again!” He cocked his head to the stall next to the black stallion’s box, indicating the cot and sleeping bag. “And I intend to make sure it doesn’t happen.”
A dimple creased her cheek. “Dedicated, aren’t you?” she mocked.
“When I have to be.”
“Is that right?” she baited, thinking back to a time when she’d needed him and he’d abandoned her. “You couldn’t prove it by me!” She yanked her arm free and started out of the barn, away from the intimacy, away from him. She opened the door, but he caught up with her, slammed the door shut with the flat of his hand and grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around. “Let go of me, Colton!” she snapped. Her back was pressed hard against the door.
“Not until you hear me out.” His voice had turned softe
r, the angle of his jaw less harsh. His stubborn gray gaze delved deep into hers. “I didn’t mean to insinuate that I didn’t care for you.”
What she read in his gaze made her sick inside. Pity. He actually pitied her! “Don’t worry about it.”
“But I do, Cass.”
“Why?”
“Because we were both young and made mistakes.”
“My only mistake was that I loved you, Colton,” she said, her voice surprisingly calm. His face was so close she could smell the lingering scent of shaving cream on his skin. “But you taught me how foolish that one emotion can be, didn’t you?”
“I never lied to you,” he reminded her.
The ache within stretched wide, hurting all over again. “You lied to me every time you held me,” she whispered, her heart shattering into a thousand pieces. “Every time you kissed me, every time you pretended to care!”
“I never pretended, Cass,” he said, the fingers on her shoulder firm but gentle, the cynicism in his eyes fading in the half light of the barn.
“Liar!” she declared, blinking rapidly, then she stumbled backward, groping for a way to escape. Being here with him, alone in the shadowy barn, was a mistake. Her feelings for him were too deep, the wound of his rejection, though eight years old, still raw and bleeding.
She found the handle and yanked hard, slipping through the narrow opening and taking in deep lungfuls of fresh air.
“This isn’t finished, Cass.” Colton’s voice, barely a whisper, reverberated through her soul.
Forcing herself to walk when her legs wanted to run, she strode to the old truck, climbed inside and turned the key with shaking fingers.
The old engine sparked to life. Cassie cranked the steering wheel and shoved the gears into reverse. She caught a glimpse of Colton standing in the doorway to the barn. Hands planted on his hips, shirttails flapping in the breeze, he glared at her. His face was set once again in a hard, impenetrable mask, his expression cold and distant.
Cassie rammed the truck into first and took off. Gravel sprayed from beneath the tires, and she didn’t dare look back in the rearview mirror—afraid that if she did, she might lose her heart all over again to a man who could change from warm to cold as quickly as the winter wind could change directions.
Chapter Six
Colton’s shoulder throbbed. After several nights of sleeping on the Army cot, his cramped muscles rebelled and he wondered if standing guard over Black Magic was worth the effort. “This is all your fault, you know,” he grumbled to the stallion, throwing wide the outside door.
Black Magic bolted out the door and tore through the rain-sodden fields, kicking and bucking beneath the gray spring skies. His ebony mane caught the wind, his tail unfurled. He seemed more colt than stallion as he raced from one end of the field to the other, whistling sharply to the horses in a nearby pasture.
“Show off,” Colton muttered, feeling a grin tug at the corners of his mouth despite his bad mood as he strode to the house.
In the kitchen Colton put on a pot of coffee, then headed upstairs. Stripping away his grimy clothes, he glanced in the mirror, then massaged his strained muscles. He stood for twenty minutes under the steamy hot spray of the shower, and slowly the ache in his shoulder subsided.
By the time he’d shaved and dressed, he felt almost human again. Almost, he thought with a grimace, his thoughts turning as they had of late, to Cassie. “Forget her,” he ordered the brooding man in the mirror, and knew it was an impossible task.
Growling to himself, he sauntered downstairs and poured himself a cup of strong coffee. Cassie’s accusations hung over him like a pall these past few days. Despite all his arguments with himself, his conscience had begun to bother him. Maybe he had been too hasty in his accusations. Perhaps he’d jumped to the wrong conclusions. Maybe, just maybe, he’d been wrong about Ivan Aldridge.
And maybe he hadn’t.
But it didn’t help to keep the old rift festering, his guilty conscience prodded. He sipped from his mug, ignored the mess that had accumulated since Denver and Tessa had left for L.A., and slapped a couple of pieces of bread into the toaster. As he waited for his toast, he actually toyed with the idea of driving over to the Aldridge ranch and squaring things with Ivan. He probably owed the old man that much.
