Page 26

I do no such thing. I do the very opposite, in fact.

I do what I’ve done almost every day since I met the big brute, except this time, it’s a saddle blanket, not a harness, that I slowly move into his line of sight.

His nostrils twitch, and I let him sniff the fabric that I know smells like me, like someone who’s never caused him harm, like someone I hope to God he’s started to even consider trusting, before gingerly stroking it down his neck.

“Nothing scary here, yeah?” Heart in my throat, I move the crimson wool along the ridge of his spine, over the swell of his belly, along his flank, and back up again. “There you go. All good. Red’s your color, I think.”

The strong body beneath my palms shivers.

Holding my breath, I gently toss the blanket onto his back, expecting the worst and getting…

Nothing. Well, not nothing. He’s not happy about it, that much I know for sure, but he doesn’t freak. He doesn’t shake the blanket off. He doesn’t introduce my face to his hooves.

I smile like a damn fool.

“That’s my boy.” I smooth one hand along his flank, the other scratching behind his twitching ears. “You’re getting a whole bag of sugar, you hear me?”

Like he knows exactly what I’m promising, he nudges the back pocket where I usually stash his treats.

“Later,” I promise again, giving him another firm pat before slowly backing up.

When I almost trip over the saddle, I bend over to grab it, and as I straighten up, something in my peripheral catches my eye.

I’ve got a bigger audience now. Not just my brother and van de Camp, but the other ranch hands, and my sisters too. Lips thin and arms crossed, Lux looks pissed as all hell, but fuck it, she’s still going to be pissed even if I stop now. I might as well finish what I started.

“Here we go,” I croon in that same, soft voice as I reapproach Ruin and do the exact same thing with the saddle, showing it to him, rubbing the supple leather against him, half-resting it on his back so he can get a feel for the weight.

“Not gonna hurt you, my boy. Never gonna hurt you. You know that. We’re good. We’re fine.”

Ruin grunts. He doesn’t move a muscle.

I rest my forehead against his heaving side, and I fucking beg . “Please, Ruin. Please. I need someone here who’s just as fucked up as I am, okay?”

Another grunt. Still no movement.

I can barely move. I sure as fuck can’t breathe. I hold my breath and cringe through half-closed eyes as I brace for that temper to flare, as I oh-so-cautiously slide the saddle on.

And nothing happens.

“Good fuckin’ boy.” I have to work to keep my voice even, to stop from squealing in excitement like a little girl. “You’re my favorite thing on this ranch, in the world , right now, you know that?”

Ruin’s upper lip quivers as he bobs his head up and down—fucking nodding , if I didn’t know any better.

And then, I make a mistake. I get too excited.

I rush. I bend to secure the cinch around his belly, I take my eyes off of him for a single idiotic second, and the next thing I know, he’s gone.

As he takes off, he knocks into me, making me stumble back a few steps, but hey, at least I stay upright.

At least, as he trots erratic loops around the paddock, the saddle stays on.

“That’s enough.”

Glancing in the direction of the low command that doesn’t come from my brother or either of my sisters or anyone with any kind of authority over me at all, I squint at the ranch hand leaning against the paddock fence. Two palms braced against a log. Jaw cocked.

My smile goes nowhere. “I can do better.”

Before Finn can get another word out, I break into a run. Channeling the past version of myself who did four-hundred-meter sprints for fun, I chase the stallion down. And with a deep breath and a little prayer and a whole lot of lunacy, I make my move.

Honestly, I don’t know how I do it. I know how , I know the steps, I know I used to practice running mounts until I could do them in my sleep.

I just don’t know how I do it with Ruin.

I don’t know how I manage to match his pace and grab the saddle pommel and time it just right to haul myself up without breaking my neck.

I don’t know why Ruin doesn’t immediately lose his shit the second my ass hits supple leather.

I don’t know why he lets me ride for one, two, three, four laps of the paddock before deciding he’s had enough.

It doesn’t matter that I saw the buck coming—I still hit the ground hard.

It doesn’t matter that I’ve fallen off a hundred horses—it still hurts like a bitch.

It doesn’t matter that I fell at all—I rode Ruin.

I fucking rode Ruin.

Vaguely, through the raspy sound of my own minorly pained, majorly delusional laughter, I hear someone yell my name. The screech of the paddock gate unlocking. Heavy footsteps pounding across the dirt before two cautious hands glide over my cheeks “Are you okay?”

Still laughing, I prop myself up on my elbows and knock Finn’s probing touch away. “I’m fine.”

“Did you hit your head?”

Yeah, but I’m not going to tell him that.

“Honey, what hurts?”

My tailbone. My left hip. Something warm and uncomfortable radiates between my elbow and my shoulder and, as luck would have, guess which ankle twisted in a way it isn’t meant to?

“I’m fine.” I bat Finn away again, I laugh again, I tilt my face towards the sky and I fucking cackle . “Seriously.”

How can I not be? I rode Ruin.

I rode Ruin . Three words run around my head in a continuous, gleeful loop, the same way Ruin circles the paddock once again. I think I say them aloud too—I think I gasp them.

Finn says my name, dragging my attention back to him.

I jolt a little when I find him already looking at me, and looking at me…

weird. Indescribable, undecipherable to me, because I don’t think anyone has ever looked at me like that.

I’m not in any way familiar with even one of the emotions causing his expression to be so intense yet so soft at the same time.

He repeats my joyous declaration, he says, “You rode Ruin,” in the same awestruck tone I did, and keeps looking at me like that as he rises from his concerned crouch and holds out a hand to haul me up.

Bypassing the help, I scramble upright all by myself. “What?”

“You’re smiling.”

I am. I can’t stop. I have to repeat, “I rode Ruin.”

“Yeah, I saw that, you fucking psycho.” Just for a second, Finn smiles too before resuming that ultra-concerned frown. “You sure you’re not hurt?”

“Positive,” I lie. And then I turn to my audience and I lie some more. “I’m all good.”

Lux looks pissed as fuck. Van de Ha Ha, Asshole looks pissed.

Jackson looks like he’s trying to be pissed, but not quite achieving it.

The ranch hands and my little sister don’t look pissed at all.

And Finn looks… something else. Something between worried out of his mind and oddly proud and… flustered?

There’s no time to analyze it properly. A whicker catches my attention and I glance aside right as a big, wet muzzle smacks against my cheek, making me smile even harder.

“I know you didn’t mean it.” I slip an arm around Ruin’s neck, another down that broad forehead, my own going to the notch just above his eye. Pressing my lips to his soft, sleek coat, I whisper so quietly that I can barely even hear it myself, “Thank you.”

Five seconds of pride.

That’s all I get before the worst possible thing happens.

Before the unlocked gate screeches open again and a little body flies through it.

“ Alex .”