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She stiffens for a second, but then she relaxes, melting back into me.

Something deep inside me settles.

“You hungry?” she murmurs.

I hum against her neck. “Yeah, but I was thinkin’…” I slide my hands over her stomach, feeling the softness of her under my palms. “How about an evening ride?”

She stills, then spins in my arms, her eyes wide with excitement. “Really? Don’t play with me, Eddie.”

My smirk must tell exactly what’s on my mind when she suggests I play with her because the blush steals over her cheeks, making my dick hard as granite.

Fuck, she’s beautiful.

I grin at her enthusiasm. “Yeah, darlin’. Just you, me, and the horses.”

Her face breaks into the prettiest damn smile I’ve ever seen, her eyes lit up with joy. How could any man not want to lie down at her feet when she smiles like that?

God, I want to kiss her.

So, I do.

A soft, lingering brush of lips. Nothing deep. Nothing heated.

Just enough.

Just a taste.

But something inside me tells me it will never be enough.

Her breath hitches, her hands curling into my shirt.

When I pull back, I murmur, “Okay, baby?”

Her cheeks flush, and she nods, her smile still lingering.

I step back, already grabbing my boots. “I’ll saddle up the horses. Meet me outside.”

As I head to the barn, one thought keeps playing in my head.

Cherry was right.

And that scares the shit out of me, but not as much as the thought of losing her.

16.Laney

The night air is crisp,carrying the scent of pine and damp earth as I watch Eddie saddle the horses. The sky is a dusky violet, fading into darkness, and the world feels quiet like it’s waiting for something. Maybe me. Maybe us.

I shift my weight from foot to foot, watching him with quiet fascination.

“You’re sure about this?” I ask, crossing my arms as he tightens the last strap-on the saddle.

Eddie grins at me over his shoulder. “Darlin’, you survived a tattoo revenge scheme and a bar brawl. You’re tellin’ me you’re afraid of a horse?”

I huff. “I’m not afraid of the horse. I’m afraid of falling off and embarrassing myself.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “C’mon. I’ll show you.”

He leads me over to my horse—a beautiful chestnut mare named Daisy. He pats her neck, his touch gentle, reverent. I watch his hands, the way they move, firm yet careful, and wonder if that’s how he is with everything—with music, with people, with me.