I need to cool the fuck down.
My cock is throbbing so hard it's painful, pressing against my jeans in a way that's impossible to ignore. My hands aresweating, palms slick, and I have to grip Daisy's lead rope tighter to keep from slipping. The last thing I need is to lose control of the horse and put Lily in danger because I can't stop thinking about bending her over in the barn and fucking her until she screams my name.
I need to get my shit together. Act like a grown man and focus on actually helping her ride.
I start leading Daisy around the corral at a steady pace. Lily's dark hair flutters around her face as the horse moves, catching the sunlight. She looks around, taking in the view of the ranch: the pastures, the mountains in the distance, the vast Montana sky. There's something almost peaceful in her expression now, like she's allowing herself to relax for the first time since she arrived.
"This is nice," she says after a few minutes. Her hands have loosened on the saddle horn, her body moving more naturally with Daisy's gait. "I can see why you love it here."
"It's home." The words come out rougher than I intend. "Only real home I've ever had."
We make another circle around the corral. I can see Tucker and Emma with Rosie over by the fence. Emma's showing Rosie how to pick wildflowers that grow near the fence posts, and Tucker's watching them both with that calm, patient expression he always has with kids. Lily keeps glancing over, checking on her daughter, making sure Rosie's safe.
"When did you learn to ride?" Lily asks suddenly. "You make it look easy."
"I was around fifteen or sixteen when Frank started teaching me." I adjust my grip on the lead rope. "He was a fantastic teacher. Patient. Never got mad when I fucked up. But I still fella lot because I wanted to do everything on my own. Wouldn't listen to his advice about taking it slow."
"That surprises me," Lily says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. "You seem so controlled now."
"I learned the hard way." I reach up to pull at the collar of my henley, tugging it down to expose my left shoulder. There's a scar there, thick and raised, about four inches long. "See this? Got it from being a stubborn idiot."
Lily leans forward in the saddle, squinting at the mark. "What happened?"
"I was seventeen. Been riding for about a year, thought I knew everything." I let my shirt fall back into place. "Started raining one day while I was out on one of the trails. Most people would come back to the barn, wait it out. But I loved riding in the rain. Felt free. Like nothing could touch me."
"That sounds beautiful," Lily murmurs.
"It was. Until the thunder started." I lead Daisy in another circle, the memory playing out in my head as clear as if it happened yesterday. "Thunder struck close, real close, and the horse got spooked. Reared up, threw me clean off. I went flying into the fence, shoulder first. Broke my collarbone, cracked three ribs, needed twelve stitches."
Lily's eyes widen. "Oh my god."
"Spent two weeks in the hospital, another six in physical therapy. Frank banned me from riding for a month after that. Thought I was going to die from boredom." I shake my head at the memory of my seventeen-year-old self, so convinced of his own immortality. "But I learned my lesson. Respect the horse. Respect the weather. Don't be a cocky little shit who thinks he knows better than everyone else."
"So, if you could choose," Lily says, and there's a teasing note in her voice now, "would you rather have been hit by the thunder than stop riding in the rain?"
I can't help it. I laugh. Actually laugh, the sound rough and rusty because I so rarely do it anymore. "Back then? If I could've chosen, I would've taken the lightning strike. Anything to keep riding. I was that fucking stupid."
"That's not stupid," Lily says softly. "That's passion. That's loving something so much you're willing to risk everything for it. I envy you." she adds.
I glance up at her. "Why?"
"Because it sounds like you had freedom when you were a kid." She looks down at her hands on the saddle horn. "My parents were overboard with their control. I wasn't allowed to do anything without their permission. Couldn't go to friends' houses, couldn't join clubs, couldn't stay after school for activities. I never made many friends, and the ones I did make, I couldn't keep because my parents wouldn't let me see them outside of class."
"That's fucked up."
"They thought they were protecting me." Lily's voice is flat. "Keeping me safe from bad influences. But all they did was isolate me. I never went to a party. Never had a boyfriend in high school. Never got to be a normal teenager."
"Your parents were crazy," I say bluntly. "A kid should be able to enjoy themselves too. Should get to make mistakes and learn from them. That's how you grow up."
I pause, considering how much to tell her. "I never had a good childhood either, Lily. The ranch wasn't an extra for me. It was a lifeline. The only thing that kept me from—" I cut myself off.From becoming my father. From ending up in prison or dead. From giving up entirely.
Lily's quiet for a moment. Then: "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed. I just heard you talk about riding in the rain and thought—"
"You thought I was some carefree kid who got to run wild," I finish for her. "I get it. But that's not how it was. Not before Frank."
"Do you..." She trails off, then tries again. "Do you want to share anything about your childhood? You don't have to. I just… I told you about mine, and I thought maybe—"
Should I? My brothers know how rough my childhood was. They know about my father, about what he did to my mother, about why I joined the military. But nobody else does. I don't talk about it. Don't let people see that part of me because it's ugly and painful and makes me feel weak.
