“Sorry,” I muttered, clearing my throat when I realized I’d missed something. “What did you say?”
She glanced at me, a smirk tugging her lips like she knew she’d caught me drifting. “I asked what their names are.”
“Oh.” I gestured toward the gelding nosing her shoulder through the rails. “That’s Chili Pepper.”
She cocked her head and frowned a little. “Chili Pepper.”
“Yep.”
“What about the one beside him?” She tipped her head at the curious palomino who’d wandered closer and was eyeing Charlotte like she was trying to decide whether to come in for some petting as well. “What’s his name?”
“Hername is Firecracker.”
“Firecracker,” she repeated, fighting a snort as she glanced back at the horse.
I lifted my hand toward a chestnut a little ways into the field. “That one over there is?—”
“Let me guess,” she cut in. “Thunder McBoomBoom?”
I narrowed my eyes. “No.”
She raised a dark eyebrow at me, amusement sparkling in those clear blue eyes. “Are you sure?”
“It’s Hurricane Hustle,” I admitted.
She burst out laughing, pressing hand to her stomach like she couldn’t breathe. “Oh my God. Those are all terrible names. What were you thinking?”
“They’re racing names,” I protested. “They came with the horses.”
“But you kept them?”
I shrugged, but there was a grin trying to break free on my lips. She was the first person ever to have called me out on the names I’d always thought were pretty dumb myself. “They answer to them.”
“Hurricane Hustle?” She gave the chestnut a pitying look. “Sweetheart, no.”
I leaned my forearms on the top rail of the fence, shaking my head. “You’re real funny for someone wearing shoes that cost more than this entire barn.”
She stuck her tongue out at me. Actually stuck her tongue out. I glanced at it, then wondered why my jeans were suddenly a little tighter.Lord, help me.
“Are you ever going to stop complaining about my footwear?” She lifted one foot, pointedly sticking it out toward me. “These are ordinary running shoes. Look.”
My gaze didn’t have to drop away from hers to know what she was wearing. I’d already memorized every inch of her outfit without even trying. Skin tight, too short black shorts, a purple top that looked like it had been painted onto her body.
“Ordinary running shoes if you’re a professional athlete maybe,” I said. “Those are specialty store grade. Custom order?”
“Fine, but they’re also really comfortable.” She turned back to the fence again and Chili Pepper stretched his neck out, bumping her palm.
She stroked his nose without hesitation this time, her touch gentle and confident. Watching it did something weird to my chest, but then she was looking at me again and I stared back at her, noticing without wanting to that her irises were the exact same color as the summer sky.
“Did you buy the horses because you wanted to be a cowboy so bad?” she teased.
I pushed off the fence and planted a shoulder against one of the posts, letting my arm hang loose and my voice drop lower. “Iama cowboy, Charlotte.” She didn’t look away from the horse, but I saw the shiver that ran through her lean frame. Knowing that I had her attention, I tipped my hat back and smirked. “Bred, born, and raised. This isn’t a Halloween costume.”
She finally glanced up at me, and for one suspended second, the air thickened between us, and not just because of the humidity. Something seemed to zap and charge, and her lips parted, but before she could say anything, Hurricane Hustle snorted loudly, completely shattering the moment.
Charlotte jumped a little, glancing back at the horse. “Rude.”
I chuckled. “He’s got opinions. In this case, I think it’s safe to say he’s on my side.”
