Because you asked. Because you looked too good walking beside another horse that wasn’t mine, and I hated the way it hit me. Because I don’t like the idea of you being someone else’s good luck. I don’t tell her any of that — not all at once.
“Because you asked,” I say.
Her mouth curves slightly, like she’s heard the half-truth and decided not to let me hide behind it.
“That’s not the only reason,” she says.
My jaw tightens. She’s right. I hate that she’s right.
I take a step closer, just enough that her perfume reaches me once more. It’s light, clean, with something floral underneath. The scent doesn’t belong in the world of horse barns and yet it fits her like everything else.
“Nicole,” I say, and her name comes out like a warning. She doesn’t retreat.
“You’re allowed to want things, Harrison,” she says. Her voice is soft, but it holds firm. “It doesn’t make you reckless. It makes you human.”
Wanting is easy. It’s what wanting makes me do that I don’t trust.
My gaze drops before I can stop it, just briefly, to her mouth. When I look again into her eyes, something real has changed between us. Nicole’s breath catches.
My hand comes out of my pocket, slow like I’m testing myself. I don’t touch her. I stop just short of her waist, hovering near the side of her dress as if the fabric itself might burn me if I get too close.
Nicole lifts her chin a fraction. Inviting. I step closer. For a single second, I forget the lesson, the scar and my rule. I forget the betrayal, the humiliation, the way love once made me foolish enough to believe in promises.
All I can think about is how she looks tonight. She’s so radiant, alive … and how badly I want to be the reason she keeps looking like that.
My mouth is a breath away from hers when I stop. Not because I don’t want it. I absolutely do. But if I kiss her, I’m not sure I’ll know how to keep it to only that.
I pull back slowly, forcing my hand to return to my pocket as if it belongs there. Nicole doesn’t look embarrassed or offended. She looks like she understands exactly what it cost me to stop.
Her voice is quiet when she says, “Goodnight, Harrison.”
I hold her gaze for one moment longer than I should.
“Goodnight,” I manage.
Then I turn toward my truck before I change my mind.
I walk away with my chest tight and my head clearer than I want it to be. The truth is ugly, yet simple. I can’t take a risk on love any longer. And Nicole is already making me question how long that rule will hold.
Chapter 14
Harrison
The sky is already wrong when I wake up. Low, heavy clouds that doesn’t rush but promises storms could be coming. The kind of morning where the air feels thick in your lungs and the birds go quiet like they know better. Thunderstorms. Not a tornado warning, but enough to demand respect.
I pull on my boots and head out before the coffee’s even finished brewing, moving on instinct more than thought. Cattle don’t wait for weather to make up its mind. If a storm’s coming, you work ahead of it or you pay later.
I spend the next hour moving stock, opening gates, guiding them toward the barns with practiced ease. My hands know the work. My body does too. It’s grounding in the way only physical labor can be -- muscle and sweat and purpose.
And still, my mind won’t stay where it belongs. Nicole.
The image of her keeps intruding, uninvited. The way she stood beside me last night. The way she looked at me like she wasn’t afraid of what she saw. The way I walked away knowing damn well I didn’t want to.
I shove a stubborn steer forward and latch the gate harder than necessary.
The storm rolls closer, wind picking up just enough to rattle the tin roofing. I glance toward the horizon, calculating time the way I always do.
Then my thoughts shift, unwelcome, but immediate.
