Page 43

Nate, with all the easy confidence of someone who’s been riding since he could walk, smiles at me.

Every day since we’ve been here, and several weeks prior to my arrival, he’s been talking about how excited he was to go riding together.

This is his life—something he loves—and he desperately wants to share it with me.

Trying to force down my fear, I nod and smile back.

“Reins in your right,” he tells me, and watches as I peel my hand forcefully from the horn to hold them the way he showed me.

Nate moves Friday away from the hitching post, watching to make sure I’m stable.

“You can keep your left hand on the saddle horn for now if it helps you feel more secure. Whenever you’re ready, give her a squeeze. ”

I lurch forward when Friday steps into motion, and my hand hurts from where I’m holding tight on to the saddle.

“Sit up a little straighter,” Nate instructs gently. “You want to maintain your posture, but still move with the horse.”

“Better?” I ask, straightening my spine. He nods, beaming. Friday’s body seems to flow beneath me as she walks; I try to move with her like he said, rolling my hips in time with her steps. The ride is a lot smoother than I thought it would be.

“Perfect. You’re going to be sore as hell after this,” he warns me.

I can only imagine. I’m clenching my inner thighs so hard, I swear I can feel the muscles tearing.

We plod along through the pasture, Nate walking sedately at my side; every now and again putting his hand on my leg or up on my lower back. Friday, for her part, makes no effort to go for a run or throw me off. I make a silent promise to give her a carrot once we return to the barn.

“Take a right,” Nate instructs, even though the field in front of us is nothing but grass for miles.

Talking myself through the steps he outlined, I press my left calf into Friday’s belly, and pull the reins gently against her neck.

Obediently, she turns her head to the right and her body follows.

Resetting my legs and arms to what I’m thinking of as the neutral position, I grin triumphantly at Nate, who returns it two-fold.

The saddle creaks gently as the leather moves with Friday.

She flicks her tail and Nate chuckles when it hits him.

“It’s beautiful here,” I tell him, which earns me another blinding smile. His eyes are the precise color of the grass in this field.

“Isn’t it? I love it.” Friday snorts in agreement, and Nate pats her neck. “Having fun?”

The question is innocent, but the tone is shy. He wants me to enjoy this so badly, it’s practically oozing from his pores. I don’t even have to lie when I respond, “I am.”

He smiles contentedly. It’s hot out here, with no shady reprieve from the midday sun, and both of us are obviously sweating. I can already see a damp patch spreading from underneath the saddle blanket, as Friday heats up as well. I frown.

“Will she be okay without water? Or do we need to give her a break? She’s sweating,” I point out to Nate.

“No, she’s okay. We won’t be out here long. It’s just hot under the saddle, and you’re heavy.”

“I’m sorry this isn’t more interesting for you,” I apologize, looking down at him. He’s probably bored out of his mind, walking as slowly as we are. He glances up at me incredulously .

“Are you kidding? I’ve been dreaming of this moment for months. I’ll walk you around this field for years, and enjoy every second of it.”

I laugh, and feeling brave, let go of the saddle horn just long enough to stroke Friday’s soft neck. The sun glints off the black of her coat, making her shine.

We stroll around the pasture, randomly changing direction at Nate’s urging until he finally points us back home. When I catch sight of the barn, I’m surprised with how far we’ve traveled.

“What time is it?” I ask. Nate checks his phone.

“A little past three.”

“Oh my god. We have to feed Tuna in, like, thirty minutes. We won’t make it back in time.”

“I told Axel we were heading out—he’ll handle afternoon feeding.” I relax. I’ve gotten attached to that little horse.

We get back to the barn, and I feel great right up until the moment my feet hit solid ground. Nate, probably expecting it, catches my elbow as my knees buckle.

“Whoa,” I mutter. All of a sudden I am very aware of what feels like every single muscle in my legs and lower back. Hell, even my shoulders are sore. Baseball has never hurt this much.

“It’s like walking off a boat and getting back to dry land,” Nate tells me. “And there’s a reason being saddle sore has a special name—it’s a unique sort of stiffness.”

“I’ll say,” I mutter, trying to shake out my legs.

We go through the motion of removing Friday’s tack, and Nate shows me how to brush her down.

I sneak not just one but four carrots to her, and massage between her eyes as she crunches on them.

She rubs her black nose against my chest affectionately, flicking her ears and blowing out a content breath.

I whisper endearments to her in Spanish, letting her know she’s a good girl.

When we get back upstairs, Nate offers to let me shower first and I gratefully accept without argument. All I did was sit there, yet somehow, I’m filthy. Scrubbing down in the hot water feels as though I’m washing a week’s worth of grime from my skin.

Nate is standing barefoot at the stove when I finish. He glances over at me and grins, lifting the pan up to show me.

“Made you some soup, you fucking weirdo.”

I snort out a laugh, and join him at the stove. “I don’t know what to tell you, we always had soup on hot days growing up.”

He kisses the top of my head, and scoots around me to take his turn in the shower.

A warmth that can’t be attributed to soup sits comfortably in my stomach.

I’ve never felt so content as I do now, cozy in the small loft with Nate, the horses below and the wide Montana sky framed in the window. I want to fucking live here.

My phone chimes with a text as I hear the water turn on. Pouring the soup into a bowl, I turn off the stove and sit at the island. Smiling, I check my phone, clicking the call button instead of texting back.

“Marcos?” Max answers on the first ring. “Hey, I didn’t mean to bother you. Just wanted to check in.”

“It’s no bother. How are you?”

“Good. Luke is at the apartment with me, but it’s weird as shit without you here. I keep looking at your door, waiting for you to come out.”

A pang of sadness jolts through me at that. “I miss you. I just told Nate the other day I wished you were here, too.”

“And Luke?” he asks slyly .

“And Luke,” I grumble, making him laugh. “Tell me about training camp.”

“We played hockey. I want to hear about what you’re doing. Nate sent me a picture of you feeding that baby horse and I thought Luke was going to die. That thing is fucking adorable.”

“His name is Tuna.”

“Tuna!” Max repeats in delight. I laugh, leaning over and eating a spoonful of soup.

“Guess what I did today,” I prompt him.

“Shut up, did Nate get you on a horse? Photographic proof or it didn’t happen.”

“Nate has about a thousand on his phone, I’ll have him send you one. It was a lot of fun, actually. We just got back—he’s in the shower.”

Max blows out a hard breath. “I’m jealous. Every picture he sends me is beautiful, and it looks like you guys are having so much fun.”

“How many pictures has he sent you?” I ask curiously. He’s had his phone out more often than not, snapping photos even when I’m doing something as mundane as sitting on the ground eating a sandwich. I hadn’t realized he was sending them to Max.

“Oh I don’t know, a dozen at least. I’ve started sending back random pictures of Luke.”

“Oh my god.” I snort, shaking my head. The shower turns off. “What are you and Luke doing?”

“He’s at work right now, so I’ll head that way shortly.” I nod even though he can’t see me, unsurprised by this answer. There is rarely a night when Luke is at the diner that Max isn’t sitting in one of the booths. “And tomorrow we’re actually going to the beach. ”

“That’ll be fun.”

“Not as much fun as petting a baby horse, but.” Another sigh, this one a touch more dramatic as he plays it up a bit.

Nate walks back into the room, scrubbing a towel vigorously over his head and grinning at me.

He’s not wearing a shirt, and his farmer’s tan has grown exponentially after our day spent in the sun.

“Max,” I explain, pointing to the phone held to my ear.

“Hi, Max,” he shouts.

“Put me on speaker,” Max requests. I place the phone on the counter and dutifully hit the speaker phone. “Nate, send me a picture of Marcos on the horse.”

“Sure.” Nate leans a hip on the counter next to me, heat radiating off his skin from the shower as he scrolls through his pictures, looking for one to share.

I can see the sheen of moisture on his stomach where he didn’t quite get himself dry.

Swallowing, I look away and focus on my soup. “Just sent you a couple.”

Max makes a strangled noise, and mumbles something about wanting to show Luke.

“I truly cannot believe you got Marcos to do that.”

“Marcos can’t believe it, either,” I agree. Nate nudges my leg until I move it over enough for him to lean against me, half sitting in my lap. This close, I can smell the fruity scent of his soap.

“You’ll have to come out, sometime,” he offers, leaning back into my chest. I wrap an arm around him, feeling a slight squirm of discomfort at the feel of moisture on his skin, but also feeling like I’m able to work past it.

“What, like come visit? Seriously? We’d—I’d love to,” Max agrees.

“Plenty of room for both of you,” Nate tells him, and I smile into his shoulder. It didn’t take him long to figure out Max and Luke come packaged as a single entity.

“It’ll be like a cowboy couples retreat,” Nate jokes.

This makes Max snort so forcefully, it turns into a coughing fit. Nate looks at me and I shake my head in bemusement. Likely an inside joke with Luke that we’re not privy to.

Nate moves his hips as though trying to find a comfortable position, and I wince as his butt bone digs into my leg. He drops his head to the side, leaning his face against mine, and I close my eyes. God, I love him.

“I better let you guys go, though,” Max says on a groan. I smile, picturing the way he stretches one arm over his head and arches his back when he stands. “I told Luke I’d be at the diner by six, and if I’m late, he gets in a panic.”

I have never related to Luke Kelly more. “Yeah, you should go, then. Say hi from us.”

“Oh, that reminds me though. Nate, Luke wants your number. He keeps telling me you guys are best friends now after we went bowling.”

“We are,” Nate agrees stoutly.

“Best friends who don’t have each other’s numbers,” I note, and he shifts in retaliation, digging his butt bone further into my thigh.

“Give him my number,” Nate tells Max.

“Cool. Okay, well, I’ll talk to you guys later. Say hi to Tuna Fish from me.”

Max hangs up, and I wait for Nate to get off me. Instead, he leans forward and opens his mouth expectantly, waiting for me to give him a spoonful of soup. Huffing a laugh, I feed him some and he sits back again on a satisfied sigh.

“How do you feel about a blowjob,” he offers casually, rolling his head over to lean against mine once more. I balance my chin on his shoulder, and think about it.

Unfortunately, the way his skin feels against mine is bordering on uncomfortable right now, and I don’t particularly want to see how far I can push that.

“Not tonight, I don’t think.”

He sits up immediately, breaking all contact as though he read my thoughts.

I open my mouth to apologize, but there is a smile on his face and he doesn’t look as though my rejection bothers him.

They haven’t yet, but each one terrifies me anew.

There very well may come a day when he gets sick of hearing the word no.

“Let’s have a date instead,” he tells me, as though this was what he’d been hoping for all along. I stand up and bring my bowl over to the sink to rinse.

“Like, go somewhere you mean?” He shakes his head and I relax. Thank God. The last thing I want to do is go into town and be around other people.

“No, here. Give me ten minutes to set everything up, and then meet me on the roof.”

With that, he leaves the loft and jogs down the stairs. I glance up at the ceiling. Meet him on the roof?