“One cowboy.” He taps my nose, turning back to grab two blankets and hand them to me. “My little sister loves giving gifts.”
I’m ready to send her a thank you card for him.
Arching my brow, I study his broad shoulders in that dark green Henley, tight ass in those jeans, with that hat on his head. “But I thought you were the youngest?”
He lifts two saddles with a grunt, muscles flexing, and I almost need to take a seat.
“Hana’s actually my brother’s wife’s younger sister, but we’re like siblings.” He passes me, heading into the barn, oblivious to my internal turmoil.
Hearing her name plunges me back into the old days of hiding, doing my best to blend in, trying to disappear. It’s been four years since I’ve seen Hana, and the shame of who I was in those days twists in my chest.
“You coming?” he calls, and I push these intrusive feelings away again.
How long can I keep avoiding the truth? I’m here at ground zero. It’s all right here—my mission, the answers I’ve dedicated myself to finding. All I have to do is search, find that book and take it back to New York.
Yet, all I want to do is stay here with him, share this moment where we don’t have to hide, where it’s still just a fantasy, and I can have a happily ever after.
Dirk leadsus at a gallop across a wide, open pasture. The cool breeze is at our faces, and I’m on a large, black Friesian named Regency’s Honor. He’s powerful with a long mane and tail and large hooves like a draft horse. Still, he’s graceful and nimble, keeping up with Dancer.
It’s been years since I’ve ridden a horse, but it comes back quickly. These move like racehorses, but Dirk said Training Day was the only one who was ever on a track. He didn’t mention how the horse was retired, but knowing what I know about this family’s history, I have an idea.
When we reach the tree line, we slow to a trot then to a walk. Dirk slides off Dancer, walking her to a small creek pushing through the leaves.
“These streams cut all through here, making their way out to the ocean.” He waits while Dancer drinks, and I slide off Rege’s back. “It can be tricky to ride if you’re unfamiliar with the area, but the horses know.”
“Would they fall?” I walk to where he’s standing, allowing my horse to drink as well.
“Horses are pretty sure-footed. You’re more likely to get wet or muddy.”
“I’m halfway there.” Stepping closer, I press my chest to his, lifting my chin.
Cupping my face, he slides his thumbs over my cheeks. Smoky hazel burns into my cool blues, but depth is behind his eyes. It tickles my stomach and makes my lips heavy.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve brought someone here,” he confesses, almost as if he’s treading this ground as cautiously as I am.
As if he knows how close we are to something completely different.
Stepping back quickly, my heel sinks, and I realize I’m at the edge of a mud puddle. Without a thought, I reach down and scoop it up, wiping a line of brown across his cheek, breaking the moment.
He jerks back, surprised. “What the—”
“Gotcha!” I yell, taking off running up the creek bed, my boots crunching on the watery rocks.
“You’d better run!” The sound of his footsteps chasing me, splashing faster as he gets closer, makes my stomach flip.
I scream and press harder, doing my best to stay ahead, but I’m not familiar with this area, and the creek takes a sharp right before dropping into what I see is a small pool below.
“Oh, no!” I skid to a stop, and he has me around the waist, lifting me off the ground.
“I’ve got you.” Lifting his hand, he’s got a scoop of mud just waiting for me.
“No!” I laugh, turning my face side to side, but he doesn’t stop coming.
I could get out of his hold, but I don’t want to. Instead, mud is smeared all over my cheeks and neck, and I’m laughing as he returns me to my feet.
Turning to face him, we both strike wrestler poses, knees bent and circling. Reaching down, I scoop another handful of mud, and his eyes glitter.
“What are you planning to do with that?” His tone is warning, and nervous laughter bubbles in my throat.