I arched a brow. “Slade.”
He exhaled, low and rough. “Because if you leave, they’ll say they were right.”
I stared at him, wondering why it seemed so personal to him. Then my mind wandered to thinking about how rough the dark scruff on his chiseled jaw would feel under my palm.
He looked away first, like he hated that truth as much as he hated the rumor. “Tomorrow,” he said, shifting his weight. “Be there at noon. Don’t be late.”
“Yes, sir.”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t start.”
“See you tomorrow.” Thankfully, I made it to my car without wiping out in front of him. As I climbed into the driver’s seat, I felt the echo of his presence like heat under my skin. I’d come to the Merc for coffee. I was leaving with a challenge, a plan, and the unsettling realization that Slade Kincaid might be the first person in Mustang Mountain to see me clearly… even when he didn’t want to. I told myself I was gathering context. But deep down, I knew I was already invested.
And if tomorrow went the way I suspected it would, a horse wasn’t the only thing I was at risk of losing control of.
CHAPTER 7
SLADE
Morgan showed up right before noon. Her car crunched over packed snow as she pulled in next to the barn, and she sat for a few seconds with her hands on the wheel before getting out. Like she was bracing for whatever might happen between us over the next few hours.
She had on new boots that looked way too stiff and way too clean. At least they were better than the pair she’d almost wiped out in multiple times on the ridge. She shut her door and lifted her chin in the confident way she always did. If she was nervous, she looked like she’d rather die than admit it.
I stood by the open door of the covered practice pen. We were safe from the weather in here. It wasn’t pretty, and it damn sure wasn’t a rodeo arena, but it worked.
“So,” she said, one corner of her mouth lifting. “This is where you plan to test the future of Mustang Mountain?”
I snorted. “This is where I figure out whether you can stay upright on the back of my oldest, calmest mare.”
Her brows lifted, but she didn’t back off. “That sounds… reassuring.”
“It should be. She’s smarter than most people I know.”
Morgan nodded. “Then I’ll try not to embarrass myself.”
Something warm wedged into my chest, unexpected and unwelcome. She stepped closer to the fence, her gloved hands resting on the top rail, her attention shifting back to the space around us.
“You really think the land you’re offering can handle thousands of people, trailers, stock trucks, and everything else all at once?”
I studied her for a long moment before answering. She was right to wonder, but I was confident in the plans Dawson and I had put together. “It can if it’s done right.”
“And if it isn’t?”
“Then it’ll be a mess,” I said. “And you’ll get to tell everyone I should’ve listened to you.”
Her mouth curved, softer this time. “I’m not rooting against you, you know.”
I snorted. “Could’ve fooled me.”
Her mouth tightened. “I’m trying to make sure the town doesn’t build something it can’t sustain.”
It was like she thought I wanted to slap together a few boards and call it tradition. I wanted to argue with her, but I started moving toward the door instead. “Then let’s start with the basics. You can’t plan a rodeo if you don’t know what the animals feel like.”
Her gaze shot to the barn a hundred yards away. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you might be right.”
I almost tripped over my own feet as she admitted it but tried to pretend I’d stepped on a hard chunk of ice. Inside the barn, the air was warmer, heavy with the scent of hay and the quiet rhythm of animals who didn’t give a flying fuck about what the town thought about me or her or anything beyond when they’d get their next meal.
The mare I’d already saddled watched us approach with patient curiosity. She was my sister’s horse who didn’t get enough exercise now that Sidney had moved into her own place with Hayes.
