She moved with me, easy and natural, her head tilting just enough that I could smell her shampoo—something clean and faintly floral that didn’t belong in barns or dirt floor arenas but somehow worked on her.
“You’re tense again,” she murmured.
“I’m fine.”I tightened my hold on her, just slightly, and tried to focus on the music instead of the way people were watching us.
“Everyone’s looking at us,” Lilah whispered.
“It’s because you look so damn good tonight.”I squeezed her hand.“Let them.”
“You don’t seem comfortable with it.”
I wasn’t.But I didn’t know how to explain that without sounding like I was ashamed of her, which I wasn’t.She looked incredible.Shewasincredible.And the fact that everyone in this room could see that only made it worse.
Because Harrison’s comment kept looping in my head.A little young for you.
She was twenty-six.I was pushing forty-three.Seventeen years was a lot, especially with her in that dress and me standing here unable to name what we were to anyone who asked.
The song shifted, slowing even more, and Lilah’s hand slid up to rest against my shoulder, her thumb brushing the edge of my collar.
“You’re overthinking,” she said.
“Maybe.”
“Definitely.”She tilted her head back, her eyes searching mine.“What’s going on?”
I wanted to tell her.Wanted to explain the ledger, the marker, the mess I was starting to uncover that could blow up the rodeo before it even started.Wanted to admit that I didn’t know how to do this—how to let someone in without it falling apart.
But the words stuck in my throat.
“I’m just tired,” I said instead.
Her expression changed.Something unreadable passed through her eyes before she nodded and leaned back into me.
We finished the dance in silence.
The evening dragged.Sponsors cornered me between songs, asking about stock timelines and insurance paperwork.Ruby made pointed comments about community involvement and keeping up appearances.The silent auction closed with a flurry of bids and backslapping congratulations, and I kept Lilah close through all of it, my hand at her back, my presence the only thing I could offer.
But I never introduced her as anything more than a trick rider who was training at the ranch.I never called her my girlfriend or partner.Never gave anyone a reason to ask questions I didn’t have answers for.
By the time we stepped outside into the cold night air, the contrast between the warm, crowded community center and the quiet parking lot made me feel exposed.
Lilah stopped next to my truck, her arms wrapped around herself against the chill and turned to face me.
“Is this all I am to you?”she asked.
The question hit low.“What do you mean?”
“Someone you keep at the edges.”Her voice was steady, not accusing, just honest.“Someone who stays at the ranch and trains and doesn’t get a name when people ask.”
“Lilah—”
“I’m not mad,” she said.“I just need to know.”
I stepped closer, my hands finding her waist, pulling her against me because I didn’t know how else to answer.
“I’m protecting you.”
“From what?”
