Gunner turned to face me, and a slow smile spread across his face, making my breath catch. He said something quietly to Bertie, then made his way over to where I stood.
“Enjoying the show?” he asked, resting his forearms on the fence between my hands. He was close enough that I could smell him. His scent, spice and roses mingled with leather and that something which was uniquely him.
“They’re doing so well,” I said, nodding toward the children. “You’re good with them.”
Gunner shrugged, but I caught the pleased look in his eyes. “Kids are easier than adults sometimes. They just say what they mean and mean what they say. And they try harder.”
Our eyes met and something unspoken passed between us, an acknowledgment of how we’d changed together.
“So,” he said, his voice dropping to the low, intimate register that sent a shiver down my spine. “Lucas tells me that you used to ride. Care to show me what you remember?”
I braced my arms on the face and shook my head. “Oh, I don’t know about that,” I hedged, suddenly nervous. “It’s been years.”
“Scared, Miss. Turner?” The challenge in his voice was playful, teasing.”
“In your dreams, cowboy.”
His grin widened. “Come on, then. I’ve got just the horse for you.”
Before I could protest further, he climbed over the fence and held out his hand. I took it, trying to ignore the warmth that spread from where our fingers connected, up my arm and straight to my chest.
“Bertie, Lucas, take your ponies to the rail and hold it there,” Gunner instructed. “Miss. Turner’s going to join us for a ride.”
The children’s excited chatter only served to heighten my nerves as Gunner led me to a chestnut mare waiting patiently at the other end of the paddock.
“This is Stevie,” he said, stroking the horse’s neck. “She’s gentle but responsive. Perfect for someone who just needs to remember what they already know.”
I reached out a hand to let the mare sniff it. “She’s beautiful.” I looked up to find Gunner watching me and my stomach flipped. It felt good to be under his gaze. Like the Summer sun was beating down on me. “Who’s the Fleetwood Mac fan?”
He chuckled. “You got that, did you?”
“I did. Songbird, Gypsy, Stevie and Christine.”
“My mom loved them.” Something vulnerable flickered across his face, quickly turning into a full on grin. “I managed to name them all before Bertie got her Seven Brides obsession and I told her a little white lie that Gypsy’s name had to be linked to her mom’s for her breeding papers.”
“That girl,” I chuckled. “I admit I like your choice better, but I’m glad she’s not called Tusk, or I might be a little scared to get on her.”
“She’s particular who rides her which is why I know she’ll take real good care of you.” The trust implicit in his words wasn’t lost on me. “Ready?” he asked.
I nodded as he interlaced his fingers to create a step for my foot. As I placed my boot in his hands, I felt the solid strength of him, unwavering as he boosted me up into the saddle.
The world shifted as I found myself looking down at him, the familiar feel of a horse beneath me bringing back memories I’d forgotten I had—of my dad leading me around in a circle, encouraging me to sit up straight, just like Gunner had with Lucas. There was muscle memory there, too.
“Feel good?” Gunner asked, his hand resting lightly on my calf as I adjusted.
“Better than I remembered,” I admitted, warmth spreading through me at his touch.
He reminded me how to hold the reins, his hands covering mine, adjusting my grip with gentle precision. Each brush of his fingers leaving trails of heat.
“Posture,” he murmured, a smirk at his lips as his hand found the small of my back to guide my posture. “Shoulders relaxed.”
He led me to the gate, opening it so that Stevie could walk us into the paddock. As his palm pressed against my spine, everything around me disappeared. His touch steadying and unsettling all at once.
“What did I say about posture?” he reminded me. “Unless you want to fall off and have me rescue you.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, cowboy. I might just prefer the company of the horse.”
“Now I know that’s not true, Miss. Turner.” He flashed me a smile, followed by a wink which sent a signal straight between my legs. His concentration went back to the lesson. “Now, light pressure with your legs,” he instructed, his voice a deep rasp that made my nipples hard. “Let her know you’re ready.”
