Page 28 of Ride Me Reckless

"You two are still stringing each other along."

I drained my beer and didn't answer.

Because he was right.

And that pissed me off more than anything.

Most of the guests had peeled off by the time I found my way back to the barn. The fire was still glowing low in the pit, and a few stragglers were laid out on lawn chairs or curled up in truck beds, but the noise had quieted down to a dull hum.

Out here, though, it was just me and the horses.

I hung Windstorm's bridle on the hook and ran my hand over his neck. He nickered softly, calmer now than he'd been earlier. The scent of leather and hay grounded me more than any of the cheap beer back at the house. I needed time to think—needed something honest.

The barn door creaked behind me.

I didn't have to turn.

"Kenzie," I said, already knowing the sound of those boots.

"Guess I'm gettin' predictable," she said with a soft laugh. "But I figured I might find you back here."

I turned then. She stood in the soft spill of moonlight and stable bulbs, her hair loose, makeup smudged just slightly from the heat of the fire and the dancing. A faint shimmer still clung to her collarbone.

"I just wanted to say thanks," she continued, stepping a little closer. "For helpin' me. Trainin' me. Believin' in me—even when I had no idea what the hell I was doing."

"You've earned it," I said. "You got grit."

She smiled at that. "I'm eighteen now, Colt."

I exhaled slowly. "Yeah. I know."

"I mean…" She rested her hand on the stall door. "I'm not a kid anymore. You see that, right?"

"Kenzie…"

She stepped toward me, voice dropping. "I think about you. When I ride. When I lay in bed at night. I want it to be you. My first."

She reached for the hem of her shirt, but I caught her wrist—gentle, but firm.

"Don't do that."

She looked up at me, confused, maybe even hurt.

"You've had a couple too many tonight," I said, trying to soften my tone. "And even if you hadn't, I'm not the one you want."

"I am sober enough to know what I want," she shot back, voice trembly but steady.

"I believe you. I just… can't be that guy."

She pulled away from my grip, arms folding across her chest, shoulders drawn tight.

"You're in love with someone else," she said, more statement than question.

I didn't answer right away. I didn't need to.

She stared at me a moment longer. "You should tell her."

My throat worked. "It's complicated."