Page 41 of Resisting Isaac

But then, I don’t feel like I’ve seen that guy in weeks.

Instead, I’m walking toward the north fence line with two cold beers and a head full of trouble.

Trouble with long legs, a smart mouth, and eyes like a thunderstorm.

She’s sitting on the top rail, staring out at the horizon, a strand of hair stuck to her cheek. She’s still in her riding jeans and boots, black tank top knotted at the waist. There’s dirt on her knee and a raw edge to her posture, like she’s holding something in she wants to let loose.

I almost turn back.

Almost.

Instead, I scuff my boot in the gravel, so I don’t spook her. “Didn’t expect to find you out here. We’re done for the day.”

She glances over her shoulder. “Didn’t expect to be followed.”

I hold out a beer. “Figured you earned this.”

She eyes it like she’s not sure whether to accept or toss it at my head. Eventually, she takes it with a small nod. Our fingers brush. Just for a second. But I feel it in my ribs.

“I didn’t mean to take over with Nora today,” she offers after a sip.

I try to recall what she’s talking about then remember that she stepped into the help with the actress earlier this morning.

“I don’t mind. I appreciate the help.”

“You sure?” she pushes. “You seemed a little…tense.”

Because I haven’t gotten laid in three weeks.

I shrug. “I’m probably always going to seem tense around you.”

She goes still.

I crack my beer, take a long swallow, then wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

“You surprise me, that’s all,” I admit. “In more ways than one. Didn’t realize you had that much horsewoman in you.”

Her voice softens. “It’s the only thing I ever felt good at growing up.”

We fall quiet for a beat. The sun’s setting low and orange, bleeding across the sky.

Then she says, “Sorry if I’ve been a bitch during training. Sometimes it’s hard for me to get comfortable with people.”

I glance at her. “Someone call you a bitch?”

Because I’m breaking jaws if that’s the case.

“No, not to my face. But I see the way the group all gets along. They hang out, go to dinner together. I never quite fit,” she says softly.

“I don’t think you’re a bitch,” I say. “I think you’re dangerous.”

Her eyebrows lift. “To your ego?”

“To my sanity.”

That earns me a smile, and damn if I don’t feel like I just won the lottery.

“You do a great job helping out with the others,” I add. “It’s been a big help.”