“What does the marker say?”I asked.
“Initials and a date.Nothing conclusive.”He straightened, meeting my eyes.“But it's old enough to matter.”
I nodded slowly, turning that over.“You think it ties back to the feud.”
“I think it complicates things people don't want complicated.”
“Like what?”
“Like who actually owns what.Like whether the rodeo's even happening on legitimate ground.”He let out a sharp exhale.“Like whether I'm about to blow up my family's reputation by digging into records nobody's looked at in decades.”
The admission landed between us, raw and unguarded, and I realized this was the first time he'd said it out loud.Not the facts, but the fear underneath.
“You're doing the right thing,” I said, my voice quiet.
“Doesn't feel like it.”
“It never does when it's hard.”
He looked at me for a long moment, something shifting behind his eyes.Not agreement exactly.More like recognition.Like he'd been bracing for me to judge him, and he wasn’t sure how to react since I hadn’t.
“Come on,” he said finally.“Let's put her away.”
We moved into the barn together, the mare trailing behind.The light inside was softer, golden from the overhead bulbs, and the familiar smell of hay and horses wrapped around me like a warm blanket.Dawson led the horse into her stall while I grabbed the brushes and started putting the tack away.
I hung the bridle on its hook and turned to reach for the saddle pad, but Dawson was already there, lifting the saddle blanket onto the rack above my head.His chest brushed my back, solid and warm, and he didn't step away.Just stayed there, close enough that I could feel the rise and fall of his breaths.
I turned to face him.
He met my eyes.Not with the restrained hunger from before.And not with the hesitation that had followed the Valentine's dinner.This was different.Like he'd made a decision he didn't need to explain.
I didn't move.Didn't push.
His hand came up, his fingers brushing my jaw, tilting my face toward his.The kiss was slow this time, just steady heat that built in increments.His other hand settled at my waist, pulling me closer, and I let myself sink into him without thinking about timelines or leaving or what came next.
When we finally broke apart, his forehead rested against mine, both of us breathing a little harder.
“I don't want you to go,” he said.
The words hit me square in the chest.
“I'm still here,” I said.
“For now.”
“For now,” I agreed.
Because that was the truth.Not a promise.Not a threat.Just where we were.
The kiss deepened, slow and sure, like we had all the time in the world.Dawson’s hand slid into my hair, his fingers tangling just enough to tilt my head, to take the kiss deeper without rushing it.His other arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against him, and I could feel the steady thud of his heartbeat through his shirt.
Heat sparked low in my belly and radiated through me.At the same time, a hollow ache pulsed deep in my core.I couldn’t deny the attraction if I wanted to.My body would give me away.
His mouth was warm, his stubble rough against my skin, and when his tongue met mine, the ground under my feet seemed to tilt sideways.My hands found the solid weight of his shoulders, then the back of his neck, holding on as the kiss turned slower, lazier, like we were savoring something we’d both been pretending we didn’t want.
When we finally broke apart, his breath was warm against my lips.“Let’s go upstairs,” he murmured.
At that point, I would have followed him anywhere.
