“Why are you staring at me?” he grumbles. That gravely sleepy voice making my panties wet—well, they would be if I were wearing any.
Running my fingers through his thick hair, I scoot down so we’re eye to eye. “Just appreciating the view.”
“Mmm,” he hums. “Then please keep staring.”
A soft chuckle escapes before he briefly presses his lips to mine. “You should go back to sleep. You’ll be busy at the ranch tonight.”
“I’ll be fine.” His exhale through his nostrils heavy.
“How’s the hand?”
His eyes widen as he stares back at me, our noses only an inch apart. I can tell he doesn’t want to give me the whole truth. I’ve watched him flex it repeatedly and put on the brace when the pain becomes unbearable, but it’s not frequent enough. “Hurts.”
“Baby, look at me.” My fingers now trailing over his bearded cheek. “I’m not saying this as your doctor. I’m saying this as someone who cares about you. Would it be so bad to take a few weeks off? Just give it time to heal better?”
He turns his face, pressing a kiss to my palm. Those deep amber eyes find mine. “I don’t know who I am if I’m not doing all the things that make me Gray.”
A small piece of my heart breaks. In so many ways, we are the same—an exterior image crafted to combat the impression others have of us. So set in our routines and our way of life, it’s hard to see something different. Different means we may not be us anymore.
“I understand.” Inching closer, I press a kiss to the tip of his nose, his eyelids fluttering shut. “But you are always Gray, with or without those things. The man who makes me laugh and cares so much. The stubborn mule and the passionate lover. The rescuer and daredevil. Taking a few weeks for yourself changes none of that.”
“River, I—” he pauses just as one of our phones vibrates on the nightstand. Both side by side after we plugged them in this morning.
Reaching past him, he grabs hold of my arm. “Ignore it. Just stay here with me.” So I settle back into my spot, curling into his side.
We’re silent for a time, the vibrating long since over. “Tell me what to expect tonight?” The question has been swirling through my head all week. Every new themed night at the ranch is a surprise. We only ever went to the competition nights growing up.
Amateur night is for anyone who wants to perform in any of the rodeo events. To me, it sounds like a recipe for me to be bogged down with horrid injuries, but then again, in places like this, we all grew up on this kind of thing. We all rode horses or whatever other livestock we had at our homes or friends’ houses.
My family never had any on our property. We kept our horses at a stable fifteen miles away, near the border, making visits inconvenient and thus infrequent. The moment they left, they sold them all—even mine.
“It’s an open floor. A lot of the old timers come out to prove they still got it.”
“Oh no,” I giggle.
“You know Old Man Wilber, right?”
“Who doesn’t know the Crawley family? Please tell me that he’s not going to go out there?”
“I’m betting he does. Always trying to show us young guys we’re not as tough as we think we are.”
A loud groan leaves me, my face burrowing into Gray’s naked chest. “I’m so not ready for this.”
“It’ll be fine. Usually only minor injuries.”
“Good to know,” I deadpan, propping my chin on his pec.
A thud sounds at the closed door. Likely Bronc wanting to be let in. The damn dog can be so needy sometimes. I’d insisted Gray let them in when we came in for a nap, but he was sure we’d get no sleep if those two fur balls got in bed with us.
Slipping out of Gray’s hold, I stand on the mattress, ready to step over him and let the babies in.
Callused palms grip my thighs, holding me in place as my body stands over his, one foot planted on either side of his hips.
Those dark eyes stare up at me. Not at my body, but at my face. So much passes behind them. Messages I tell myself not to read into.
It’s too soon.
“Do not let them in here.”
