The world could’ve ended then, and I wouldn’t have cared.
For a few seconds, we just stood there, forehead to forehead, breathing hard, the noise of the arena muffled behind us. Somewhere close by, someone whistled, and another voice shouted for a new round to start. The sound snapped me back. I released her slowly, hands falling away, forcing myself to remember where we were.
She looked at me like I had stolen something from her, then given it back in pieces.
“You can’t do that again,” she said softly.
“Do what?”
“Taking over every time you think I need saving.”
I brushed my thumb across the corner of her mouth where my beard had left a faint red mark. “You did need saving, you just do not want to admit it. And I’ll do it every time, I’ll kill them for you if I have to.”
Her eyes flashed. “That is not your call.”
“Maybe not,” I said. “But I’m making it anyway.”
She stared at me, torn between fury and something that looked too much like wanting. Then she stepped back, straightened her jacket, and grabbed the reins again.
“Go cool her down,” I said quietly. “Before she stiffens up.”
She hesitated, then nodded once, swinging back into the saddle with a grace that made my chest ache. The crowd cheered again as she circled the arena once, letting the horse stretch.
I stayed by the gate, watching until she disappeared into the alley. My hands were still shaking, adrenaline buzzing under my skin. Every muscle in my body screamed to follow her, to finish what we had started, but I knew better. Not here. Not with half the town watching.
When I finally turned toward the parking lot, I caught sight of a few men near the concession stand. The same ones from before. They stood in a loose group, watching her ride out. One lifted a hand, pointing toward the alley. The others laughed. It was low and mean.
My stomach went cold.
I made a note of their faces. Every one of them.
By the time Kristin came around front with her horse, I was already waiting by the trailer. She led the horse over, cheeks flushed from the cold, eyes still bright from the run.
“Congratulations,” I said, forcing my tone to be calm. “You were perfect out there.”
She gave me a look that was half suspicion, half curiosity. “You are not still mad?”
“I am always mad,” I said. “Just not at you.”
She smirked, handing me the reins. “Then I will take the win while it lasts.”
We loaded her horse in silence, both pretending that the kiss hadn’t happened, though the memory of it burned between us like live coal. She climbed into the truck first, pulling her hat low, and I followed, sliding behind the wheel. The heater roared to life, fogging the windshield.
“Lincoln,” she said finally, voice low. “You have to stop jumping in like that. It is not just overprotective; it is dangerous. You could have started a fight.”
“I do not start fights,” I said. “I finish them.”
“That is not funny.”
“Wasn’t trying to be.”
She stared out the window, jaw tight. “You can’t fix everything by being the biggest guy in the room.”
“I can try.”
Her sigh fogged the glass. “One day, that is going to backfire.”
“Maybe. But not today.”
