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And it nearly unraveled him.
He drew her to himself, letting the physical presence of her body, safe against his own, calm his own nerves. She wrapped her arms around him, and they stood there, soaking in the relief.
She looked up at him, her eyes bright and green and liquid. Facing each other, like when they’d danced under the canopy of stars last weekend. Like when they’d stood in the bakery.
Heat flamed inside. Oh, how he wanted to kiss her—even more than yesterday.
Maybe it was because his emotions were running high, but he succumbed to the desire. Dipped his face, paused.
Waited for her to lean into it, and then he kissed her—urgent and afraid and relieved, all at once. She tasted of the sweet tea, and he couldn’t drink in enough. Her body molded into his when he drew her close, a little sound escaping her throat.
Then he remembered who he was. Who she was.
And Dylan’s words of warning etched in his brain for all time.
He loosened his hold. “I—I—” He couldn’t form a coherent word. He resisted the urge to push her away.
And then you rejected me.
He wouldn’t hurt her like that again. He was a grown man, not an impulsive high schooler—though, maybe he’d been a little impulsive with this kiss too. He swallowed. Everything in him wanted to draw her close. Feel that she was safe.
Rex shoved his head in between them as if to remind them he required attention too. He pressed his big old head against Beth and gave her a little shove against her armpit, causing her to step sideways to catch her balance.
Grayson reached out to steady her, and Rex gave another nudge.
Beth laughed. “Stop—that tickles—oh, ouch, that kind of hurts.”
Grayson reached for Rex.
“Okay, wild man.” He skimmed his eyes and hands along Rex’s body, looking for welts and stingers.
“I don’t like saddle horns anymore. They’re a very, very bad idea.” Beth rubbed her abdomen. “Is he okay?”
“He’s got a few on his flanks and belly. Poor guy.” He pulled his notebook from the saddlebag and used the firm cover flap to flick the remaining stingers out. Grayson ran his hands down the horse’s legs. “Yeah.” He rubbed Rex’s forehead. “You’re a good boy.”
The horse stretched his neck down and snatched up a mouthful of grass, the ordeal behind him.
“Well, he’s all better now,” Beth said, like she was trying to infuse her voice with cheer she didn’t feel. She tentatively touched her scalp near the base of her braid. “Ah!” She flinched. “I think there’s one more.”
“Stinger?”
She let out a groan. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Let me see.”
She turned around and dipped her chin. “Right in here.” Her fingers hovered over a spot.
It didn’t take much searching. “Hold still.” He lifted the notebook and flicked the stinger out.
“Ahh!”
“Sorry.” He checked over her scalp, neck, and arms again. “It looks like that’s it.”
She wrapped her hand around to her upper back. “My lats are going to be so sore tomorrow.”
And he couldn’t help it. He drew her back to himself, held on. Because every time he closed his eyes, he could see her coming loose off Rex. Could imagine a terrible fall. Her head hitting a tree or the ground.
It was like watching the storm rip his mom from the boat. Knowing the waves were sweeping her away. Out of sight.
