Page 17 of Sweet Surprise (Honeysuckle, Texas #2)

The weight in Carson’s stomach had transformed into a fierce, protective instinct that burned like fire. Mason was his son. His responsibility.

The Jeep bounced hard over the rough terrain, each jolt rattling Carson’s teeth and doing nothing for his frayed nerves. He pushed the accelerator, demanding more speed even as the vehicle protested. Every second stretched into an eternity. If anything happened to Mason…

In his head, Carson envisioned every worst-case scenario.

One after another bounced around in his vivid imagination.

He could see Mason alone at the diminutive canyon floor, small and vulnerable against the towering ridge with no one to hear his calls for help.

More frightening, a rattlesnake coiled in the shadows of a rock ready to pounce, its warning rattle drowned out by the wind.

Would Mason even recognize the rattler’s sound?

Did city boys from Dallas know anything about venomous snakes?

And what if Mason had fallen? Slipped on loose shale, tumbling down a steep incline, left lying injured on the hard ground with no way to get back to safety.

More frightening than any of those extreme scenarios was the most likely danger—the mustangs—wild, powerful creatures startled by a boy’s sudden appearance, their hooves thundering across the canyon floor with and unsuspecting Mason frozen, mesmerized, in their path.

No . He shut the thoughts down, clenching his jaw so tight his temples throbbed. He couldn’t let his mind travel that road. Not now.

At his side, Jess checked her cell phone, waiting to hear from someone at the house with news that Mason had been found lost in his artwork, or asleep with Brady in an overlooked corner.

“Anything new?” Carson didn’t look at her, his gaze remained fixed on the terrain ahead, for any sign of a little boy walking.

Jess shook her head. “If he’s been walking for over two hours, how far can he have gone?”

“The canyon area is about five or so miles from the ranch. I’m no expert on nine year olds, but if he’s running and playing around with Brady, he could be there already.”

“How far away are we?”

“Almost there.” One thing he tried to find comfort in was Brady. That dog was smart as a whip, well trained, fearless, and most importantly, loyal. Carson just prayed that dog kept his son safe until he got to him.

Not much time had passed when Jess pointed through the windshield. “There!” she called out, her voice tight with hope.

The canyon area that was barely much deeper than an oversized trench, came into view, a wide, sun-baked cut in the earth that sloped down into more dirt and dust. Carson scanned the area frantically. If Mason wasn’t here, where could he be? Where should they look next?

Carson barely stopped the Jeep before he was out, boots hitting the dirt hard. Across the Jeep, Jess did the same, her eyes darting all around, she cupped her mouth, preparing to call out to her son.

“Don’t.” Carson grabbed her arm. “We don’t want to spook the horses if they’re down there.”

“With Mason,” she muttered softly.

All he did was nod. Taking hold of Jess’s hand, the two of them hurried across the land to the canyon edge.

Scanning the distance, his heart sank with no sign of Mason, only a herd of horses mulling about below, and then—movement caught his attention.

A small figure crouched low against the darkening landscape.

Brady’s muscular form hovering protectively nearby, his stance alert, ears forward.

The dog’s attention was divided between the boy and the herd, his training evident in how he positioned himself.

It had to be Mason. Relief crashed through Carson like a wave, immediately followed by a fresh surge of adrenaline when he registered what he was seeing.

Every sense focused on the scene unfolding fifty yards ahead.

“Stay put,” he quickly told Jess. “Keep the phone handy. We may need help—and fast.”

Jess nodded, her gaze filled with worry and love, whether for him or their son, or both, he didn’t know. So softly, he barely heard her, she whispered, “Be careful.”

Mason, crouched low, extended his small fingers toward a foal curled in the dust. The animal looked tiny, vulnerable—but its mother did not. The mare stood just a few feet away, muscles tensed beneath her dusty coat, ears pinned flat against her head.

Just what he didn’t need. An angry mare in mama bear mode protecting her young. Mason, in his innocence, had gotten between them. Carson’s heart slammed against his ribs.

“Mason.” He kept his voice low, even, though everything in him screamed to yell run . Instead, as softly as he could and still be heard, he called to Mason, “Don’t move.”

The boy’s head turned, just a fraction. Just enough to be considered a threat. Without hesitation, in a snap, the mare charged.

Carson lunged forward, covering the distance in three desperate strides. He grabbed Mason by the shoulders, swinging him behind his back in one fluid motion. A sharp, white-hot pain tore through his upper arm as the mare’s hoof clipped him—hard.

He stumbled but held his ground, feeling Mason’s small fingers digging into his waist.

The mare whipped around, front hooves pawing the air.

Ready to strike again. A low, rumbling growl cut through the tension.

Brady had circled around, placing himself between Carson’s back and the angry mare, his body lowered into a defensive stance.

The dog’s military training had kicked in—he was now guarding both his charges, ready to engage if necessary.

Damn.

Gravel crunched under Jess’s feet as she stood at the canyon’s edge.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, each beat painful.

She wanted to scream, run, snatch Mason away, and Carson too.

But she was frozen in place, too far away to do anyone any good.

Not that she had any clue how to save the two people who meant most to her in the world.

All she could do was watch the terrifying tableau before her—the man she loved, their son, and a furious wild horse with every protective instinct in her body fully engaged.

She had never been so scared in her life. Not when she’d learned the truth about Todd not being Mason’s father, not when she’d faced eviction, not even when she’d first driven into Honeysuckle with no idea what awaited her. This was pure, primal fear that numbed her limbs and stole her breath.

Carson stood like a living shield between Mason and the wild mare, his posture tense but controlled.

Her son— their son—pinned behind him, wide-eyed, clutching the back of Carson’s shirt with white-knuckled fingers.

Even from this distance, she saw the exact moment when Mason’s expression shifted from childlike enchantment to gut-wrenching fear and it cut through her like a knife.

At Carson’s side, Brady stood, hackles raised, a continuous low growl emanating from his throat.

The dog’s presence seemed to give Carson an advantage—the mare’s attention now split between the man and the unfamiliar predator, but the dog’s presence did nothing to alleviate the fear in Mason’s eyes.

She needed to do something, anything. But if she made a mistake—if she startled the mare or distracted Carson at the wrong moment—it could be catastrophic. Carson could get trampled. Mason could get hurt. One wrong move and this already dangerous situation could turn deadly in an instant.

Slowly, a single measured step at a time, she inched closer, hugging the canyon’s edge, desperate to help but not having a clue what to do.

The distance seemed to stretch forever, each step taking too long.

Finally, close enough to hear the mare’s heavy breathing and Carson’s low murmurs, she stopped.

Her fingers dug into her palms, nails biting into sweaty flesh.

The animal reared up suddenly, powerful front hooves pawing at the air. Jess’s heart stuttered to a near stop, a silent scream caught in her throat. This was it—the mare was going to strike. She was going to watch Carson get killed while protecting their son.

When Carson stepped forward—intentionally moved toward the danger instead of away—with Mason still clinging to his back, she had to clasp her hands against her mouth to stop herself from screaming out loud.

Every instinct in her body screamed that he was doing the wrong thing, that he should be backing away, running, anything but confronting the angry animal.

But she had no other choice than to trust him, to trust that Carson knew what he was doing, that he would not only protect their son at any cost, but he would get them both out alive—he had to.

Praying silently, promising God anything and everything she could think of, she watched intently as the mare huffed, nostrils flaring, muscles bunched and ready to react.

Carson lifted his hands slowly, palms out, making himself bigger without being threatening.

His movements were so controlled, so deliberate, it almost felt like she was watching a dance.

With uncanny precision, Brady mirrored his movements, neither advancing nor retreating, but maintaining his protective position.

The retired military dog probably understood the delicate balance of this standoff better than most humans would.

He kept his voice low, the same tone she’d heard him use with spooked calves and nervous foals. “Easy now.”

The mare’s ears twitched—still alert but not completely flattened against her head.

Jess had no idea if that was a good sign or bad sign.

Her knowledge of horses was limited to what little she’d learned from Carson, but wild horses were completely outside her wheelhouse.

All she knew was that the animal looked ready to charge again.

“Easy, mama,” Carson murmured, taking another small step, angling slightly to the side. “We’re not here to hurt your baby.”

Frozen with fear, Jess was almost mesmerized watching Carson deal with the angry mare.

Everything he did was slow, measured, controlled.

Not backing down, but not challenging either.

Just a steady, calm presence in the face of danger.

In that moment, she saw him in a completely new light—not just as the man she’d began to love all those years ago, who had married—for all intents and purposes—a near stranger to save his mother and their beloved family ranch, but someone with a quiet strength that ran bone-deep.

Jess prayed some more, her fingernails still biting into her palms, her heart barely beating as she watched the continued standoff.

The mare huffed and stamped her hooves again, the sound like thunder in the quiet canyon.

Jess held her breath, certain this couldn’t be good.

The massive animal looked unconvinced—but then she hesitated.

For an eternal moment, horse and man regarded each other, a silent communication that Jess couldn’t interpret.

Then—just like that—the mare turned. The massive animal wheeled around, dust kicking up behind her powerful hooves, and she bolted back to her foal and the rest of the herd.

Unconvinced all was secure, Brady didn’t relax his stance until the mare was a safe distance away, then the German Shepherd gave a single soft ‘woof’ as if signaling the all-clear.

Only then did the dog turn his attention fully to Mason, nuzzling the boy’s hand, sniffing from shoulder to shin, as if checking him for injuries.

Her nerves shattered like glass. Barely registering the rough terrain, Jess ran.

Heat filled her lungs, tears streamed down her face.

Her legs moved of their own accord, carrying her forward with desperate speed.

She reached Mason first—pulling him away from Carson and into her arms, pressing her forehead to his, clutching him like she’d never let go.

His small body trembled against hers, his breath coming in hitching sobs. “Mom,” he choked out, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Shh, it’s okay, you’re safe now,” she murmured into his hair, rocking him slightly, reassuring herself as much as him. Her gaze dropped to Brady dutifully at her son’s side. Somehow she knew the dog would have given his life to protect her son from danger. “Good boy, Brady. Good boy.”

Just a few feet away Carson stood there, breathing hard, one hand gripping the arm where the mare had struck him.

Blood seeped between his fingers, staining his shirt sleeve a dark crimson.

His face was pale beneath his tan, but his eyes—his eyes were fixed on them, filled with a fierce protectiveness that took her breath away. He’d saved their son.

Still holding Mason tightly against her, Jess met his gaze across the small distance. Something electric passed between them. And that was it. The moment she knew. The moment she understood, down to her bones, that she couldn’t live without him.