Page 8

From my spot on the wraparound porch, I hear him before I see him, that low, snarling rumble that could only belong to one man and one motorcycle.

The sound snakes through the still Kentucky dusk, stirring something wild and long-buried in me.

The kind of storm a brewin’ that makes the horses restless and my nerves hum.

Then he appears, a dark silhouette eating up the payment like sin on wheels.

Legend.

He swings off his Harley like he never left, all swagger and leather, like the years didn’t pass and he didn’t leave my heart in ruins. He moves slow, confident, like a man who’s never been told no and wouldn’t listen if he had. My breath stalls. My spine stiffens.

Hell, he hasn’t just grown up, he’s filled out. He was always tall, towering over me. But now his broad shoulders, inked arms, and that dangerous glint in his eyes that used to get me into trouble... and say they might again.

The black leather vest hugs his chest like it’s afraid to let go. His dark hair’s still got that rebellious wave, like he wrestled the wind and won. But it’s those brown eyes, sharp, calculating, lethal, that land on me like a blow.

I’m already regretting this.

He stops at the foot of the porch stairs, thumbs sliding into his belt loops like he owns the place. Like he owns me.

“I hear you need protection,” he draws. His voice rolls over me like gravel and honey.

I cross my arms. “I need someone who can handle himself, not just look mean in leather.”

He smirks. “Still got that Horse Princess attitude, I see.”

My breath catches in my throat. It’s been years since he called me that to my face. And we are face to face.

“Watch it, Stable Boy,” I snap back, more reflex than thought.

His smirk deepens into something darker. “You haven’t called me that since you were fourteen and trying not to blush every time I walked by.”

“And you haven’t earned the right to call me Princess since you let me eat dirt in front of the whole 4H tent.”

“Pretty sure you kicked me first,” he says, his arm out, leaning against the post like he used to. “If I remember right, I still got the scar.”

I shake my head, trying not to smile. Damn him. “This is a job. Professional only. Got it?”

His boots hit the first step. Then the second. And suddenly he’s so close I can smell leather, sweat, tobacco, and damn something that makes me want to sin just to get closer.

And I have to look up at him.

His voice drops low enough to drag goosebumps up my spine. “Sure thing, Your Highness. I’ll be real professional. But if you call me Stable Boy again, don’t be surprised if I remember all the other things you used to whisper when nobody was listenin’.”

God help me, I do remember.

But I roll my eyes and hand him the file instead. “Welcome back to Paradise Falls, Legend. Try not to burn it down.”

He takes it, fingers grazing mine for a second too long. “No promises, Horse Princess.”

“Legend,” I bark, hating how my voice catches halfway through. I aim for cool and come out breathless. I change the subject away from old terms of endearment. “Didn’t think you’d actually show.”

“You always did underestimate me, Montgomery.” Damn it, the way he says my name should be illegal.

I arch a brow, refusing to let him have the upper hand. “I stopped underestimating you the day you walked out of my life.”

That earns me a flash of teeth. “Could’ve fooled me. You had your family’s manservant come beggin’ at my door.”

Resting against the porch railing, I try to appear unaffected. “I didn’t beg. I hired you. Big difference.”

“You asked for me by name.” His mouth curves slow and smug.

My cheeks betray me with heat. “Because you know this place. You know the dark corners. The secrets.”

He leans in, his lips a whisper from mine. “And I know yours, Horse Princess. You sure you want me pokin’ around again?”

I lift my chin, heart thudding hard against my ribs. “I don’t have the luxury of want right now. Someone’s threatening my family. This isn’t about you and me.”

His eyes flash, full of something dangerous and deeply personal. “There ain’t been a ‘you and me’ in ten damn years.”

My throat tightens, but I hold his gaze. “Then this should be easy.”

“Darlin’,” he murmurs, voice low and lethal. “Nothin’ about you has ever been easy. Not then. Not now.”

Before I can fire back, the breeze kicks up, and I catch the flutter of the envelope on the doorframe. The warning I left for him to see. I move to grab it, but his hand closes over my wrist, hot and rough and commanding.

“Don’t,” he snaps, tone clipped and steel-hard.

I freeze. Not because I’m scared, but because for one heartbeat, I forget how to breathe.

He steps in front of me, snatches the note, and scans it. The shift in him is instant. Muscles locked. Jaw tight. Eyes lit with the kind of fury that scorches.

“What is it?” I ask, voice barely above a whisper.

He looks up. And the fire in those eyes? It’s personal.

“It says she’s mine,” he growls. “And she’ll burn before I let anyone have her.”

The world tilts beneath me. I reach for the porch rail, but he catches me by the elbow, steadying me like it’s nothing. Like he’s still my anchor. My curse. My storm.

“Now, they’re threatening to set me on fire? I guess things just got a little more personal, more complicated,” I whisper, pulse thundering.

Legend leans in, his breath warm at my temple. “No, Sophie,” he says, rough and sure. “They just got deadly serious.”

And from the look in his eyes, I believe him.

God help me.

I want to.