Horses whinnied in the paddock, warm eyes welcoming and thoughtful as I passed them. A beautiful gray mare, Isabelle (thankfully already named so Bertie didn’t get to give her one), being trained for Gunner and Cassidy’s children’s camp pushed her nose over the fence, desperate for attention and probably an apple.
“Hello, sweet girl. You know you’re not allowed.” She had a big barrel belly that we were trying to reduce. She was ideal for kids, sweet natured and patient, but her previous owner had let her have far too many treats. “How about a scratch instead?” She lifted her head in anticipation, and I was sure she was smiling—those two missing teeth where the sweet treats had taken their toll only made her more charming.
“Thought it was your day off?” Gunner came up beside me, giving Isabelle a gentle pat on her back.
“Hey. I needed some fresh air.”
His chuckle rumbled low. “You girls drank your body weight of champagne last night.”
“Ugh,” I shuddered. “Just the mention of it makes me want to throw up.”
“Cassidy’s nursing a bucket of black coffee in the den,” he said, leaning against the fence and folding his arms across his chest. “She’s declared a lifelong ban on alcohol.”
“Is Lily still…erm how is Lily?” I almost let it slip that I already knew. And even though Wilder and I hadn’t exactlyagreedto keep things quiet, I hadn’t said anything either. It wasn’t shame, not exactly. Just…something quieter. More fragile. Like saying it out loud would make it real in ways I wasn’t ready for and invite the kind of questions I couldn’t answer.
“Lily is…” Gunner paused and gave me a crooked grin. “Nash convinced her and the kids that getting the winter barn ready would cure her hangover.”
“Really?” I grimaced. “That’s brutal.”
“She’s stopped puking at least. Felicia gave her some lavender tea which sorted that out.” He nudged me. “So, why are you out here and not inside looking all pale and interesting?”
My vision tilted a little with the shift in focus, and I grabbed the fence for balance. “Fresh air but I’m beginning to wonder about the wisdom of it.”
“You’re not thinking of getting on the back of a horse are you?” Three worry lines creased his brow. “I’m not sure you should.”
“I was thinking Dreamy. He’s been doing great under a saddle.”
Gunner shook his head. “Not today. He’s too intuitive. He’ll feel you’re off balance and that might rattle him.” He aimed a thumb over his shoulder. “Isabelle would be a good choice. Or better yet, you could just take a walk.” He pushed off the fence. “Okay, I’m off to check on my fiancée. See if maybe I can get her to eat.” Taking a couple of strides, he stopped and turned on the heels of his boots. “And Tally if you do take a walk, make sure you have a fully charged radio and phone.”
“Will do, boss.”
“And no checking emails in the office,” he added, raising a finger. “It’s your day off, remember.”
Smiling, I gave him a thumbs up but as I turned toward the office, something twisted in my stomach, and it wasn’t the hangover.
“Well, well. Don’t you look better.”
His voice, low, rough, familiar, wrapped around me like a worn blanket I hadn’t meant to reach for. Wilder Miller stood in front of the barn; strong gloved hands adjusted a strap on his saddle. His smirk was pure sin. Leather chaps. Dusty boots. Ball cap tilted back just enough to show the grin I hated loving.
Chapter 7
Bad Things – MGK, Camilla Cabello
Wilder
Some women radiate beauty, no matter the circumstances. Tally Brown was one of them. It was like the world softened around her. Like even the dust spun lower in the air when she walked into a space.
Earlier she’d been ragged at the edges, mascara smudged, hair a wild mess, yet she’d still carried something around her. Not just beauty, but presence. That sleepy, sensual weight in her tired eyes. The curve of her body beneath thin cotton that clung in all the right ways. It had taken every ounce of restraint not to back her into that cabin and make her feel betterthan any bottle of champagne ever could.
Now, watching her walk toward me, I second-guessed every reason I'd had for leaving her at the door with coffee and donuts.
Those jeans hugged her ass like they’d been stitched on her body. Her thick sweater was snug beneath a quilted Carhartt jacket, and one long braid hung over her shoulder like an invitation. She moved with purpose but there was still a sway to her hips that I felt in my teeth. I swear those jeans were painted on by angels who knew exactly how to ruin a man’s concentration.
“Well, well. Don’t you look better.”
Behind me, the sound of hooves caught my attention. A couple of the ranch hands returning from the upper pastures, their horses kicking up dust as they rode in, easy and loose. Work moved on like clockwork here. But for a moment, with Tally closing the distance between us, the whole world felt paused. The air stilled as her gaze met mine and heat pooled deep in the pit of my belly.
“It was the donuts and the hot shower.”
