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And his dad too. That helpless feeling, being sent below deck. Knowing something awful was happening. Being helpless to stop it.
* * *
Beth’s legsmight have turned to Jell-O if Grayson hadn’t lifted her from Rex and pulled her to himself. Carried her and set her down on the ground, his fingers, both work-worn and tender, skimming across her skin. The strength of his arms almost distracted her from her adrenaline-flooded nervous system.
Almost.
She’d maybe stick to feeding, grooming, and saddling the horses. Shoveling manure. Grants, schedules, and greetings.
Anything but get on a horse again.
Because her life had just flashed before her eyes, the very real, clear acknowledgment when the tree stumps and thundering hooves blasted by her head.
This is how I’m going to die.
So nope. She’d just stay in the cocoon of Grayson’s laundry soap layered with the warm scent of his body.
A girl could almost forget she’d nearly died. Forget the way he’d called out her name.
How his heartbeat had skittered against her ear, the air swept from his own lungs.
But what she couldn’t forget?
Oh, that kiss—like every detail of the last ten minutes had ruptured between them in a flood of emotion.
And if she hadn’t had Jell-O-y legs before, she sure had them now.
The kiss had been passionate and intense, foreign and familiar. The touch of his lips on hers had sent her brain and heart on another wild gallop, this one, exhilarating and exciting. Grayson Fox, the man who’d rejected her, had pulled her in and kissed her like she was the very breath of his body.
If only he’d finished what he’d been going to say before Rex interrupted and stole the moment away.
“My head is going to swell up to the size of a watermelon,” she said. She flicked her fingertips over the spot where he’d removed the stinger.
“I thought you said you weren’t allergic.”
“That was before my head started throbbing.” She grunted. “I’m kidding. Mostly. Does my face look weird?”
He stared at her. “No. You look…” He ran his fingers through her hair, straightening a tangle. But it sent shivers up and down her body.
Beth had greatly underestimated the power of Grayson’s touch. The tenderness of his calloused hands and the husky intimacy of his voice.
How much she wanted to feel his lips on hers again.
You look…what? Awful, terrible? Okay? Fine?… Amazing?
Finish the sentence.
His eyes met hers, held them. Caused her breath to catch because for a moment, she thought he might kiss her again, and she was totally and completely more than okay with that.
Then he blinked, looked away. Paced as if he were wrestling some inner demon, then cleared his throat. Seemed to collect himself.
He rubbed his cheek. A red welt, probably from the slap of a branch, arced across it. “Do I have a tattoo now?”
“It makes you look tough.” She tried to give him a smile and pretend they weren’t dancing around the fact that they’d just kissed and neither one of them seemed to know what to do about it.
“Oh, good. I was going for that.” His eyes stayed on her, a longing in them, maybe uncertainty. “Here.” He handed her Mav’s reins and ran his hand down Rex’s neck, then checked his legs again. “He’s good.” He loosened Rex’s cinch, straightened the saddle back to center, and restrung the latigo knot.
He led him forward, walked him back, then drew up the reins. With one sweep of his leg, he hopped up on Rex, then nudged the horse forward. He rode him up the trail to the next bend, turned around, and rode back, speaking to him in some sort of cowboy coo the entire time.
