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He doesn’t answer right away.

He just lets his gaze roam down my body, then back up slowly.

When he finally speaks, it’s low and rough and way too effective.

“I got you, Petals. You’re safe with me.”

Strong as he is, I’m not quite sure I believe him.

I swallow hard.

“Is this your horse?”

He nods. “Name’s Trouble.”

“Of course it is.”

He smirks, then gestures me closer. “Come on. This one is Peanut. I’ll help you up.”

I pause. “Fair warning, I haven’t ridden anything bigger than a yoga ball since my days in summer camp.”

“You’ll be fine,” he says, stepping close, “Besides we both know that ain’t true.”

My eyes practically fall out of my head as I catch his meaning.

He is closer now. Way too close.

Before I can offer a rebuttal or rethink this whole thing, his hands are at my waist.

His grip is firm, warm, steady, and in the next breath, he lifts me onto the saddle like I weigh nothing.

“Whoa,” I laugh breathlessly, wobbling for balance.

“Relax,” he murmurs, adjusting the stirrups. “I’ve got you.”

It’s not the words, it’s the way he says them that makes me want to swoon.

Like it’s a promise.

His gaze is unwavering and just like that, I do as he says.

I relax. I settle into the saddle, watching as he swings up onto his horse, Trouble, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

He doesn’t even have to look to find his balance. He just moves with an easy, predatory grace that makes my insides melt.

We start riding. Well. I’m mostly just hanging on.

Zeke is patient. Sweet. Tender.

We go slow at first, following a wide dirt trail that winds around the edge of the property, where the fence line meets the trees.

“You’re doing good, Petals,” he murmurs, and his subtle praise warms me to my toes.

I smile and breathe deep.

The air smells like wildflowers and summer grass.

Birds call overhead.