Olivia crouches beside the reins. “Of course, handsome. Come on over and meet him.”
Teddy turns to me first, eyes flicking up for permission. Still looking for the green light. Still checking, even now. My throatgets tight. I follow the line from her hand to his face, then back again.
“Go on.”
He takes off like a shot, arms flung wide, sneakers scuffing up dust. He throws himself straight into her side, and she catches him before bending to whisper something to him with that same sunlit grin. By the time I manage to unglue my jaw and start walking toward the fence, she glances up and catches my eye. I forget why I’m even here.
Because for all the reasons I’ve told myself to keep my distance—rules, boundaries, promises—there’s a pull I can’t reason my way out of. Teddy is engrossed in whatever she’s telling him, pointing toward Blue. I drift toward the fence, lean an elbow on the top rail, and try to keep my expression neutral.
“So,” she calls over her shoulder. “I see Mr. Neanderthal has finally left the haystack. Back to normal, huh?”
I arch a brow. “Whatever do you mean?”
She smirks, adjusting the saddle strap. “All that grunting and glaring the other night? I was starting to think you’d forgotten how to be tolerable.”
I huff out something that almost counts as a laugh. “You must be confusing me with someone who does that sort of thing.”
“Ah, sure.” She flashes me a look. “Or perhaps I’m just better at reading you than you think.”
And that’s the problem. She is.
Teddy tugs on her hand, asking something about the helmet, and she drops into a crouch beside him. She adjusts the strap under his chin with careful fingers, murmuring instructions. The movement pulls her muscles taut beneath sun-kissed skin, and I have to look away, biting the inside of my cheek just to keep my pulse from doing something humiliating.
Because Jesus Christ.
Since when am I this far gone over a woman’s forearms?
She hoists him onto the saddle like it’s nothing. Hands steady. Voice soft. And Teddy—my usually fidgety, distracted, hard-to-read kid—goes perfectly still, hanging on her every word. Then she swings up behind him. The motion is fluid. Natural. Too damn graceful for my peace of mind. My breath catches, and I grit my teeth.
I need to leave. Now. Before I say something stupid, or worse, before she turns around and sees just how hard I’m getting, standing here watching her.What is wrong with me?
My son is a few metres away. My son. And I’m out here battling a hard-on like a hormone-drunk teenager with his first crush. Whatever this is, this thing clawing at the edges of my control every time she’s close, it’s not easing up. It’s a slow spiral, and I’ve got no one to blame but myself for letting it get this far in the first place.
“That you, Daniels?”
The deep voice drifts across the paddock enough to pull me straight out of my own head. I turn before I can stop the smirk tugging at my mouth. “Mitchell.”
Xavier closes the distance between us, hat tipped low, and jeans streaked with red dirt. “Didn’t think I’d see you out here,” he says, resting a forearm against the fence.
“Trust me,” I mutter, glancing toward the pen, “wasn’t on my Saturday bingo card either.”
His eyes follow mine, right to where Olivia is still up on that damn horse with my kid.
Xavier hums low, still watching. “Whose idea was this? Not yours, I bet.”
I scoff. “That obvious?”
He moves the toothpick in his mouth from one side to the other, smirking. “Liv’s been doing this with all the kids recently, don’t worry. Knew it was only a matter of time before she ropedyours in.”Right. Of course she has.My gaze drifts back to her—hand on the reins, body tilted forward as Teddy speaks to her.
Xavier leans both elbows on the fence now. “Didn’t peg you for the scenic type, Daniels.”
I glance out over the paddocks—sky bleeding gold, long grass bending in the breeze, fence lines stretching forever. “Yeah,” I say slowly. “I can see why you love this life.”
Xavier chuckles, plucking the toothpick free. “It’ll keep you on your toes. Always something to fix, break, chase down.” His tone drops. “Wasn’t talkin’ about the paddocks, though.”
The comment lands like a sucker punch. My jaw goes tight. I turn toward him, but he’s already wearing that smug, knowing smirk. I don’t respond. There’s nothing to say that won’t give me away.
He claps a hand on my shoulder. “Laters, bro.”
