“Scared is a strong word,” she sighed. “Let’s call it…respectfully cautious.”
“Respectfully cautious works.” His gaze held hers, steady and patient. “Come closer.”
She drew in a breath and closed the distance until she stood beside the gate. The horse, up close, felt like a moving wall of muscle and warm breath.
“Hold your hand like this.” Ryan turned his palm up, fingers relaxed, then gently guided her wrist until her hand mirrored his. His touch was light, just a warm brush along her skin, but her pulse kicked anyway. “Let him come to you. Don’t shove your hand at his face.”
“Got it,” she murmured.
Duke lowered his head, nostrils flaring. He gave her fingers a thorough sniff, then nudged her palm, searching for something that smelled like a treat. Probably those carrots Quinn had mentioned.
Now she wished she’d thought to bring some. “Okay. That’s…not so bad.”
“Told you,” Ryan smiled. “He’s a marshmallow.”
As if in agreement, Duke snorted again.
Still not totally comfortable around an animal the size of a small tank, she felt herself smile at the horse. “He really is sweet.”
“Told you,” Ryan repeated.
“Hey,” Quinn called from a doorway up the aisle. “Where’d you put the tack?”
“Right there,” he called to his brother, then turned to her. “Hang on a minute. I’ll be right back.”
Staring at those dark eyes, she didn’t want to be afraid of him. Putting the toe of her boot on the wood brace of the gate, she heaved herself up. “You really are a big boy, aren’t you.”
The horse continued to eye her cautiously.
“If I promise to bring a carrot next time, can I give you a little pet?”
The animal raised one brow and then nodded. At least she thought he nodded.
Stretching her hand forward, she reached up, fingers brushing the horse’s cheek. The coat was softer than she expected, the warmth under her palm grounding. Duke leaned into the contact like an oversized dog. Her shoulders loosened.
A smile tugged at her cheeks—maybe she could get used to this. Then she heard it, a sickening crack beneath her boot. In an instant she was falling backward, the barn ceiling tilting at a sickening angle. Instead of dirt, she hit something solid, warm, and impossibly strong. Large, calloused hands clamped around her waist, and a broad chest cushioned the back of her head. The momentum of her fall sent them both backward a step, but the man didn’t buckle. He held her tight, his arms an iron grip keeping her from hitting the floor.
Heart beating a frantic rhythm, Nicole blinked only to find herself staring straight up into Ryan’s face. He was breathing hard, his jaw set so tight a muscle was jumping in his cheek. Hiseyes were no longer just blue; they were a storm of something raw and protective that made Nicole’s breath hitch. The silence in the barn was absolute, broken only by the low, concerned whinny from Duke.
“She’s okay, boy.” Still holding her, Ryan reassured the horse.
Quinn’s deep voice cleared his throat and as quickly as Ryan had caught her, he set her back on her feet. “We’d better get to the house before Aunt Eileen sends a posse after us.”
“Right.” Ryan took a short step in retreat. “We should go.”
She stood still for a minute longer than she should have before springing into action and hurrying toward the door. With every step she kept asking herself one thing… what the heck just happened?
Chapter Ten
Running the roller up another strip of siding, Ryan watched the clear sealer soak into the old wood. Slow, steady strokes. Nothing fancy. Just one more layer of protection on something that had already survived more than a hundred Texas summers.
“Don’t miss that top edge,” Quinn said from the other side of the door. “Valerie will zoom in on the one spot you skipped.”
“Thanks for the encouragement,” Ryan answered. He stretched, catching the narrow strip under the trim. “You’d think she’d have better things to film than me painting.”
“Rolling,” Quinn corrected. “Painters get paid more.”
A familiar pair of voices floated toward them from down the boardwalk.
