Page 26 of Stirring Spurs (Rainbow Ranch #1)

BOONE

Three Months Later

The saddle feels like a giant fist around my ribs, and every step the horse takes sends a jolt up my spine.

I grip the reins tighter, though I’m not sure it actually helps.

My legs are still too stiff, my feet not quite settled in the stirrups, and I can’t stop glancing at the ground beneath us—the dirt and rocks that seem so much further than they ever did on foot.

“Remember, Cookie. Relax,” Wylie calls from ahead, his voice easy, like he was born in a saddle. He’s barely even looking back, just trotting along, Noodles moving like he’s done this a thousand times.

I force a deep breath. Relax. Right. Easier said than done when you’ve never ridden more than a handful of times and now you’re miles from home on a trail with nothing but wide open spaces and the sound of hooves.

“Yeah, I’m good,” I say, trying to sound casual, but I know my voice—a little too tight—betrays me .

Wylie convinced me to ride. Or try. Benny was in on it, too.

Even Sassafras, the chestnut mare whom both my brother and boyfriend deemed docile enough for an inexperienced rider like me, seems unsure about my declaration of being okay.

She flicks her ears back toward me like she’s aware of my thoughts.

Does she know I’m not confident? Does she care? I push that thought away as the wind picks up and the trees thin out, opening into a vast stretch of meadow. Noodles moves ahead like he’s eager for the open space, but Sassafras... she just keeps plodding along at her own pace, steady and unbothered.

“You okay back there?” Wylie glances over his shoulder now, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Fine.” I try to smile, but it’s more of a grimace.

For a second, I wonder if I could slide off and walk instead.

A day trip to explore. That’s all Wylie wanted.

No, me riding on Noodles with him wouldn’t be safe.

For us or the horse. Yes, he’d be right there with me.

I’d be safe as beans in a pot on this gentle horse.

She wouldn’t swat at a fly with her tail.

Sassafras snorts, like she can read my mind.

“Remember, darlin',” Wylie calls over his shoulder. “Just trust your horse.”

Trust my horse? The thing I’m pretty sure could buck me off without breaking a sweat?

“How far are we going again?” I ask, anything to distract myself from the sensation of my body swaying with every step the horse takes.

Wylie shrugs, looking at the path ahead. “Couple miles, tops. You’ll be fine. Once you get the hang of it, you won’t even notice.”

I try to believe him. But as the trail dips and the horse moves under me again, I can’t help but cling a little tighter to the reins. Maybe I’ll just take it one step at a time. One jolt at a time.

After even more ups and downs in the terrain, I slowly acclimate. There’s a gentle energy to Sassafras—when she’s not flicking her ears at me. I take deep breaths, like Billie told me, and maybe, just maybe, the horse senses my nerves calming.

“Almost there.” Wylie turns over his shoulder and shoots me a wink.

And damn, if the sight of him with jeans stretched as he straddles the saddle doesn’t flood my basement.

It’s been over three months since Wylie moved into my room.

He didn’t have more than the clothes in his bag, but I cleaned out two drawers in my dresser for him.

Least I could do for the guy that stole my whole damn heart.

I always thought, especially after Ma and Pa passed, it would just be me taking care of my siblings and the ranch family. Never minded it either, but now, with Wylie, I see there’s more. So much more.

My eyes trip between Noodles’ ass and Wylie’s, remembering what Beau told me. Watch the ass in front of you. Pretty sure he meant only the equine ass, but here we are.

As we come over a small hill, I glance up, a giant oak tree even bigger than the one on the ranch comes into view.

Wylie makes a noise, something between a click and a cluck, then squeezes his legs, making Noodles gallop over to the trunk.

With a tug at the reins, he turns the animal, and they’re facing me.

Sunlight cascades between the branches and lights them, Wylie’s face shaded by the wide brim of his hat, and for a second, I forget to breathe.

Not only does he look like the epitome of a Hollywood cowboy—rugged, handsome, a slight sweetness to the way his lips curl up in a way only I’d notice—but he’s waiting for me. Me.

“Come on, cowboy,” he yells.

I don’t make any noises with my mouth or apply any pressure to the horse’s sides under me. But Sassafras keeps walking in the slow methodical way she’s done the entire trip until we approach Wylie and Noodles.

“Takin' your sweet time?”

I smile. It’s genuine, but with a little push, I make it even bigger.

“We’re in no rush, right girl?” I pat Sassafras’ neck and she lets out a soft nicker.

In one fell swoop, Wylie hops off and, while still holding onto the reins of his own horse, takes mine.

He grabs a long rope from his waist and ties it around the trunk using some intricate knot I’ve seen my siblings use.

With a click, he attaches two ends of the rope to both horses’ halters in another knot.

“Damn, sure are good with those hands,” I tease from my perch.

Wylie’s eyes linger on me for a second before he goes back to securing the horses.

His reply is to take my hand.

As our skin makes contact, a wave of relief washes over me, the underlying stress that plagued me throughout the trip out here melting away like ice cubes left out in the sun. Even up here on this horse, with the earth a little too far away for my liking, he’s got me.

With a deep breath, I carefully remove my feet from the stirrups, swing my leg over the horse’s back, and, with Wylie’s steady hand guiding me, slide down, the horse’s warmth fading as I land softly in the best possible place on the planet—right in Wylie’s arms .

“There’s my guy,” he says.

When he draws me into his arms, the entire ride out here fades away.

His warm body against mine, smelling like leather and hay, envelops me.

He holds me close, always tight enough to make us both feel safe.

I rest my head on his shoulder, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothes me.

Wylie Anderson, the quiet, hardened cowboy who walked onto Rainbow Ranch a few months ago has become the piece of my puzzle I never knew was missing.

“Now, I’m starving.” His lips are close enough for me to nibble, and I take the chance for a quick kiss.

“Are you?” I ask.

Wylie’s stomach growls like a trapped bear, and a laugh barrels up from my chest and flies out of my mouth.

“Told ya,” he says.

He removes my hat, placing it on the cantle of the saddle, and takes hold of my face.

His lips are soft—thanks to the eucalyptus balm I gave him—as he applies gentle pressure.

My heart flutters as he deepens the kiss.

We’ve both got the rest of the day off, so there’s no rush.

Winnie will serve the chili mac casserole with a green salad and fresh bread we prepared this morning.

I melt into Wylie’s kiss, closing my eyes, allowing the rest of my senses to cherish this delicate, perfect moment.

His stomach gurgles again, and I giggle into his mouth.

“Okay, okay,” I say, pulling away. “Let’s get you fed, cowboy.”

With the picnic items we packed in Noodles’ saddlebags, Wylie spreads the blanket under the tree while I unpack the food.

“We’ve got shaved turkey sandwiches, corn salad, and of course, some cake.” I hand him a bottle of sweet tea, imagining the lingering flavor on his lips when I kiss him later.

Noodles lets out a sharp nicker, and we both turn toward him.

“Sir,” Wylie snaps. “No cake for you.”

Beneath the cool shade of the tree, we stretch out on the soft, well-worn blanket, savoring our lunch. The air is warm but gentle, a perfect harmony of sun and breeze, as the day unfolds beautifully around us.

“Thinking I might bring Jesse out here in November.”

I check Wylie’s face, and there’s no sign of unease.

A couple of months ago, he mentioned reaching out to his mother, and I was, of course, supportive.

Beau gave us the office phone while he was out working, and I sat in the chair across from the desk.

He’s called twice more since then, and now his mom and brother are planning to drive out for Thanksgiving.

“Bet he’d love it.” Noticing he’s finished the salad on his plate, I dish out a little more. “And your mom can show me this famous caramel brownie recipe I keep hearing about.”

Wylie smiles—slow, warm, and completely unguarded, like the sun breaking through clouds after a storm.

His eyes light up, sparkling with an affection so pure that it seems as if he’s looking straight into my soul.

The slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes and the tenderness in the curve of his mouth—every part of him seems to express a quiet adoration, utterly devoted and unspoken.

“Finally, I can get some good grub out here,” he teases.

“Excuse me?”

“Look at me, Cookie.” He puts his plate down and raises his flannel, revealing his gorgeous stomach. “I’m wasting away to nothing.”

“Oh, really?” I run my hands over his exposed skin, the light dusting of hair taunting my fingers. “I can think of a few things to feed you.”

“C’mere.” Wylie’s voice is quiet but commanding, and before I can even respond, his hands grasp me.

His arms slide around my waist, tugging me forward, pulling me off balance as he shifts beneath me.

There’s a sharp intake of breath as I land on top of him, the weight of his chest pressing up against mine.

He falls back with a soft thud, his body relaxing into the movement, and I’m caught in the gentle curve of his hold.

“Boone Adams, I love you.”

Before I can respond, his lips find mine—filling me with every ounce of emotion.

I hold him close, embracing him in a way that I hope assures him he’s safe.

He pulls back, and I plant a kiss on the side of his face as I lean my head next to his.

My lips land near his ear, which I also kiss, before whispering, “I love you, too.”

He holds me tight, and lying here under this giant tree with Wylie Anderson, it’s never been more clear. We’ve got each other. Here. Now. Always.