Page 14 of Ride Me Reckless

She stiffened. That flicker of armor I remembered so well slid back into place.

She didn't answer that question either.

Didn't have to.

I watched her jaw flex, her eyes drop back to the photo, then to the hay-scattered floor.

I didn't push. Never got me far with her.

After a long beat, I stood and offered her a hand.

"You want to ride?" I asked. "Biscuit still knows your rhythm."

Her gaze flicked up. She hesitated, then slid her hand into mine.

Outside, I saddled Biscuit with practiced ease while Tessa brushed a palm down the mare's side, her touch soft and reverent, like she was greeting an old friend she never meant to leave behind. Windstorm shifted under my hands, lean and restless, eager to move. He was all fire and flash, while Biscuit was calm and rooted.

We mounted up without a word, nudging the horses through the paddock gate and out into the wide-open stretch of Lucky Ranch.

The land unfurled in front of us, lush with spring, the hills still damp from last night’s rain. Birds darted from fence post to sky. The smell of fresh grass and turned earth hung thick in the air.

After a while, a low rumble rolled across the valley.

Tessa glanced toward the mountains. "Was that thunder?"

I squinted west. The clouds had gone dark at the edges, curling like smoke. "Looks like a storm's comin' in hot," I said, watching the clouds billow like a bad omen.

Tessa lifted her chin to the wind. "Storms always find me, one way or another." Then, she smirked. "You think we can outrun it?"

I waited a beat, then grinned. "Only one way to find out."

We kicked the horses into a lope, Windstorm leaping forward like a shot, Biscuit stretching into stride beside him. Wind peeled past us, whipping Tessa's ponytail behind her like a ribbon of fire.

We rode hard across the ridge, laughter chasing us down the hill. The first drop that hit my cheek was cold and clean. Then another. And another.

By the time we reached the barn, the sky had opened wide and wild, dumping rain in sheets. Tessa slid off Biscuit and hit the ground laughing, soaked clean through, water dripping from her lashes and the curve of her grin.

I swung down beside her, boots squishing in the mud.

"You look like a drowned rat," she said, breathless.

I stepped closer. "Yeah? You look like trouble."

Her laughter softened into something warmer—something that slid between us and curled tight in my chest.

And just like that, she was in my arms. Wet but still laughing. Her hands curled into my shirt like they belonged there.

The storm raged on above us.

But at that moment, all I could hear was the beat of her heart against mine.

Chapter Four

Reckless Hearts

Tessa

The barn smelled like wet hay, and the storm hadn't let up. Rain still tapped steadily against the tin roof overhead, and our boots squished across the slick concrete floor. My jeans clung to my legs, soaked clear through, and my tank top was plastered to my back. Biscuit dripped water in thick streams, her sides still heaving from the run.