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His head dips to mine, his lips warm and tender, possessive and owning. “I love my mornings with you too.” He winks with his words and drops a peck on my neck, just above my collarbone.
The crisp starch of his shirt is rough as it slides against me. His cologne and the smell of sex fill my nostrils. Everything he’s said has shaken me. It’s as if the world tilted on its axis, and instead of throwing me off kilter, it’s provided me solid footing.
I reach an arm up around his neck. “You love me.” He may hear me; he may not. I drop my head to his shirt, and feel hope and joy swirl inside me like helium trying to burst through my chest. The laugh that explodes through is pure bliss. I’m too happy to contain this too.
Warm hands rub my back, and lips land on my head. “Yes, darlin’, I do.”
I look up, tentative. “I love you too.”
“Well, then, life is perfect.” He kisses me quickly. “Are you going to keep me on you today?”
“That’s a negative, ghost rider. You may be a caveman like that, but I am no cavewoman. I’ll clean up and be gone ten minutes after you. Tell Jon I said hi.”
He growls again, and I laugh.
When I arrive at the barn, I cue up the computer and set the music this morning to early eighties country. I need the old stuff.
When Juice Newton’s “Queen of Hearts” oozes through the speakers, I head to check on Marron, and her new foal, Windrunner. Both are doing well.
Windrunner is nursing well and is playful and so much fun to be around. She’s inquisitive, awkward, and affectionate. She isn’t cautious and ambles over to greet me, pushing her nose under my chin and wiggling her mouth against my neck. It fits my light mood.
“Did you just giggle?” my brother asks from over the stable doors. “Who are you and what have you done with my sister? No Ranger I know giggles.”
“Shut up, Braxton.”
“What’s got you so happy?”
I look into his face and see contentment written there.
“Are you the pot or the kettle in this situation?”
“Nice deflection. Are you going to answer or not?”
“Windrunner is doing really well. Very healthy. Funny, curious, and so sweet. She’s perfect for Colt. How is my nephew, by the way?”
“Well played. I see what you did there, but I’ll let it slide.” He winks. “Colt is perfect, obviously.” He stretches out the last word as he points to himself. “I mean he’s mine, so perfection is to be expected.”
I cough into my hand. “Bullshit.” But I smile as I do. It’s been a long time since we’ve laughed.
“Are you saying that my son isn’t perfect?”
“No. He is. He totally is. You, on the other hand…”
“Yeah, yeah.” He looks at Marron before turning back to me. “How is she?”
“She’s good. Bloodwork shows hormones are where we want them to be. She probably needs a good run, though, so I was going to put them in the bigger paddock and let her stretch her legs. I’ll bring them back before the heat of the day, so Windrunner can acclimate.”
“Want some help?”
“Sure.”
We guide Marron outside with a hand to her flank. She’s home here and knows the drill. Besides, she won’t leave Windrunner, so there’s no need. I slide a soft halter around Windrunner’s neck to get her accustomed to the feel. She doesn’t need to be steered; she follows her mother everywhere, but it’s good training, and four days old isn’t too early to begin.
Brax pets her and talks to her as we walk. She’s uncoordinated and clumsy, and it’s adorable. The majesty and grace of who she will be is nowhere in sight.
“I’m still in shock that Pop decided to give her to Colt. She may not show it now”—he gestures to her exploring with gangly limbs and smiles—“but she’s one hell of a horse. Or will be when she stops tripping over grass.”
“With her parents, she certainly will be.”
