I wipe a tear from my face. “I do, actually.”
He stares at me for a long moment before his mouth quirks into a smile. “You want to give it a try?”
“Not a chance. I’m not the one who bought him.”
“Come on, Brooks,” Dylan says, picking up the saddle and moving toward me. “Admit it, you’re dying to step in and show me how it’s done.”
“Dying to watch you fall on your face again.”
He’s only half right about me wanting to step in. I’d love to work with Fury, but he’s Dylan’s horse and something about the stallion has brought out the best in him. I’d never admit this to Dylan, but I don’t think anyone could’ve made more progress than he has.
Dylan chuckles as he looks back to the stallion. “Is it just me or is he looking pretty pleased with himself?”
I laugh again. “It’s not just you. That’s one smug horse.”
Dylan places the saddle on the fence and leans against one of the posts. Even with a fence between us, the space suddenly feels tight. “Putting aside just now—” he starts.
“You mean falling face-first into the dirt?”
“You’re not going to let me forget that, are you?”
“Not a chance.”
Dylan rolls his eyes. “Seriously, I think he’s starting to thaw. He let me get the saddle up there this time—mostly.”
“If he likes you, he’s got a funny way of showing it.”
“Story of my life,” he says.
Our eyes lock, the weight of everything unspoken between us hanging in the air again.I drink him in. Can’t look away. His hair is growing out beneath the cowboy hat he’s taken to wearing. There’s a blade of grass stuck in his beard, and before I can stop myself, I reach forward and pluck it out. The second my fingertips touch warm skin, I’m thinking of all the other places on his body I want to touch.
Dylan’s dark eyes are on me, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. Like he’s daring me to carry on.
“You had some grass,” I murmur, holding up the single blade like it’s proof.
“Thanks,” he replies as his eyes dip to my lips, gaze lingering in a way that causes an aching heat to pulse between my thighs. I draw in a breath, catching the scent of leather and forest. Dylan draws his eyes back to mine, his gaze burning with the same feelings scorching through me. My lips part and I narrow the gap between us by another fraction. His hand moves like he’s about to reach behind my neck, draw me to him?—
The thud of hooves pounding against the ground shatters the moment.Dammit, not again!We jolt back at the same time and turn to see Fury trotting along the back fence, his head high as if to say,Get a room.
“Looks like he’s ready for round two,” I say with a laugh that sounds more nervous than anything.
Dylan smiles before he looks out to the horizon and the dark clouds looming over the mountains. The kind of clouds that promise rain.
“We should get the horses into the barn,” he says. “Can you start on the others while I see to Fury?”
I open my mouth to argue, to tell him I’ve been checking my weather app every hour and the storm is due to pass us, but Dylan cuts me off.
“Don’t fight me on this, Brooks.” A raw sadness sweeps over his expression, his entire body. “My dad…” His voice trails off and I remember Bill explaining to me when I wasn’t much older than Madison why he’d bought twenty-five horses he could barely afford. Because a good friend of his had died, leaving a wife and three boys with no way to support themselves.
“Your dad died in a storm,” I say quietly, my mouth suddenly dry as I say the words Dylan can’t.
Silence stretches out from one second to the next and then whatever vulnerability was showing on Dylan’s face is gone—locked up tight—and he’s nodding. “Yeah.”
I glance at the sky again. The clouds are thicker now. Dylan’s right. The horses need to be moved.
I grab the saddle from the fence, the smooth leather heavy in my arms. “I’ll start on the lower paddock.”
When I look back at Dylan, he’s moving toward Fury with quick, determined strides. I can’t deny how good his thighs look filling out those jeans or the way he’s starting to get under my skin. I turn away and head to the lower paddock before my thoughts can drag me to the gutter.
