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More embarrassment floods me. I send him back three eye-rolling emojis and refocus on the horses.
By midmorning, I've moved on to a mare named Duchess. We work through a stretching sequence Roy flagged as a priority before Jagger's horses got injured. The rhythm of the work slows my scattered thoughts down to a manageable pace.
There's always a familiar comfort in my job that never fades. Muscles and tendons, reading a horse's tension, and translating small resistances into a plan for healing that doesn't rush and doesn't cut corners is my happy place. I can always count on it to be the one part of my life that's steady no matter what else is going on.
I check on Charlie twice before lunch. The first time, Mama's got her propped against a pillow on the couch, narrating the plot of whatever soap opera's playing. Charlie sits, more interested in her own fist.
The second time, Jagger follows me inside.
"What are you doing here?" I ask.
"Checking on my daughter. What are you doing?"
"Same."
"She's almost asleep," Ruby states, sitting in the rocking chair. She returns to humming a lullaby low and off-key that seems to make Charlie's lips curl into a tiny smile.
Mama's in the kitchen, stirring soup. She flits her hands at us. "Go do your jobs. We've got this covered."
"I know. I just—"
"You just nothing. Go." She waves a hand at me.
Ruby keeps humming, but nods.
"You both know we're the parents, right?" Jagger declares, walking up to Ruby and kneeling on the floor. He drags a finger down Charlie's cheek and coos, "Hey, my baby girl."
Charlie yawns, looks at her daddy, and closes her eyes.
He smiles at her, and my heart warms. He strokes her hair, and she falls into the rhythm of her little snores.
"Lunch's ready," Mama announces.
"I've got her." Jagger reaches for Charlie before I can offer, lifting her out of Ruby's arms. "Go eat. I'll get her settled in her bassinet." He heads toward her room.
I follow him down the hall, into the bedroom, and stand behind him.
He presses a kiss to Charlie's forehead and lays her down. Then he swiftly spins and backs me against the wall. One hand braced beside my head, the other curls at my jaw and tilts it.
My pulse skyrockets.
His mouth crashes into mine, hot and demanding, stealing the breath right out of my lungs before I even register he's moved. He kisses me slow at first, then deeper.
Heat rockets straight down my spine, pooling low in my stomach. My fingers claw into his shirt. I anchor myself against the wall, while his teeth catch my bottom lip just enough to leave a gasp trapped in my throat.
By the time he pulls back, my lungs have forgotten how to work properly. He stares at me with a savage look, jaw tight, eyes gone dark and half lidded, like he's three seconds from losing control.
"Wh-what was that for?" I manage, breathless, staring up at him.
"I didn't want you to forget what kissing me was like." He brushes his thumb once across my bottom lip, satisfied and unbothered by the mess he's made of me. "Before our date tonight."
I gape at him as he walks out of the room, whistling, and giving me a final, cocky gaze over his shoulder before disappearing.
Several minutes pass. I stare at our daughter, asleep in the bassinet, and carefully find my footing. I lean over her, give her a little peck on the head, and make my way back to the main room.
Jagger's nowhere. I sigh in relief.
"Eat some soup," Mama orders.
