Denver
Stomping through a sprawling puddle, I take a deep breath of humid summer air. The brief torrential downpour was a welcome sight after weeks of drought, and it left the earth so drenched, the soil needs time to drink it all in.
I rode damn near halfway across the ranch to help Red fix one of the many tractors we have working the hayfields this time of year. The old thing broke down halfway through baling the field, and we’ve been at it for hours trying to figure out what the hell’s wrong with it.
“I think we need to call it quits and burn the damn thing to the ground,” Red says, wiping his brows with his forearm.
“Light the match.” I hold my hands up in the air. “I didn’t see anything.”
With the amount of hours we’ve spent replacing old parts and repairing shit in the field over the past few months, having the practically vintage piece-of-shit disappear would be welcomed by me. Austin might have other thoughts, since he’ll have to come up with the money in the ranch finances for a new one. But I don’t see him out here fixing tractors in the pouring rain.
I stand back, staring at the torn-apart engine and scratching my head, wishing I was out riding with Blair instead. Hopefully she managed to find a dry spot during the storm.
Standing next to me, Red packs his tin of chew with a quick snap of his wrist. “If only I had a lighter.”
“Fuck. Guess we have to fix ’er then.” With a resolute sigh, I pull a crescent wrench from the back pocket of my jeans like a soldier pulling out his weapon for battle. “At this rate, every damn part on this thing will be brand-new before the end of haying season. Get in and try to fire her up again.”
Waiting for Red to climb into the cab, I stroke my knuckles across the sharp stubble on my jaw. I’m usually pretty good at diagnosing issues with machines. I’m not a mechanic, by any means, but we all fell into various roles around the ranch after Grandpa passed, and this is where I landed. Now I handle most maintenance and repairs so we can save an expensive service call-out whenever possible. But this one might need the help of somebody who knows what the hell they’re doing.
To neither of our surprise, the tractor doesn’t start, and Red sits in the cab shaking his head in annoyance. Austin’s not going to be happy, but there’s no way we have the ability to fix whatever’s wrong with the engine.
“Fuck,” I mutter angrily, chucking a wrench at the ground at the same moment a loud ringing chimes from my pocket.
Blair.
That’s all it takes to still the tense air around me. After years of wishing every phone call was from her, seeing her name flash on my screen is something I’ll never get over—the reminder that she’s mine again soothing my erratic, irritated pulse.
“Hey, baby.” My voice instinctively softens when I pull the phone to my ear. A rush of summer air blows the back of my shirt up, and I reach behind with my free hand to tuck the fabric into my jeans.
“.” It comes out in a half-sob. “I need you.”
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” I toss my arm up in the air to get Red’s attention, signaling for him to wrap it up. We’re going home. “Where are you, Bear?”
“I’m okay. I just…sorry, I didn’t mean to bug you. I know you’re busy.”
“Where are you?” I repeat.
“By our tree.”
Our tree. I’ve actively avoided that section of the ranch for years. When forced to take the trail past the thicket of trees that keep our little clearing hidden from the world, I ride as fast as my horse can go. And even still, I feel the emptiness and regret tucked deep into my chest for days after each pass.
“I’ll be right there,” I say, already mounting my horse.
Red slams the cab door and yells at me to ask where I’m going. I shout something incoherent over my shoulder about Blair, and cleaning up our mess, and telling Austin I’ll talk to him later.
“It’s not a rush,” she says. “You can finish helping Red first. I’m okay, promise.”
Fat chance I’d leave her sitting alone somewhere when she needs me. I might not have known better at eighteen, but I do now. I also know exactly how much it must’ve taken for Blair to ask for my help.
“I’m already on my way. Wanna tell me what’s going on?”
In the time it takes for her to waver between telling me and not, my mind reels with possibilities. And unless she’s lying about being okay, none of them seem plausible.
Thrown from the horse? Nah.
Fell off? Nah.
“I’m…scared,” she finally answers.
“Scared? Of what?” I chuckle under my breath, heart pounding as my horse flies through the open air.
She tries to laugh it off with me, but it comes out awkward and laced with sadness. “Riding.”
Shit . That was definitely not the answer I anticipated from her, of all people. Blair Hart scared of riding? The girl who jumped on the back of a horse at thirteen without a single trace of fear in her eyes? Who was running barrels only weeks later, letting the wind stream through her long hair, smiling like she’d never felt more alive?
But I don’t say that. I know better.
“That’s okay, baby. I’ll be right there. And I’ll get you home.”
I push my mare even harder, and my heart beats in time with the clap of her hooves over well-packed soil. Less than ten minutes later, I’m crossing through the tree line and leaping out of the saddle before I’ve even gotten to her. She looks up at me from where she’s cross-legged on the grass, rolling a blade of grass between her fingers, and smiles meekly.
“Bear.” I hustle across soft dirt and drop to my knees next to her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Despite the red eyes and tear-stained cheeks which indicate otherwise, she nods. “Yeah. I just feel really stupid.”
“There’s nothing to feel stupid about.” I pull her into my lap. My palms hold steady on either side of her face, her hair dances around our faces in the wind, and I kiss her, sweeping my tongue across her bottom lip. She opens her mouth with a relaxed sigh, looping her arms around my neck.
“I do, though. I was doing perfectly fine until we got caught up in the storm, and Sandy was starting to get a little spooked—”
“Sandy?” I interrupt. “Who the hell is Sandy?”
“I didn’t know what your horse’s name was, so I was calling him Sandy. It felt weird not to have a name for him.” She gestures toward a horse…not my horse, that’s for damn sure.
“Don’t know who the hell that is, but he’s not my horse.” I laugh. “Blair Hart, you’re a horse thief.”
Her wide eyes bounce between the buckskin and me. “I assumed paddock six was the sixth one moving away from the barn, but there wasn’t a buckskin there. So I grabbed one from the paddock closest to the barn.”
“Oh, shit. I’m a moron.” My palm slaps to my forehead. “We did some shuffling because Jackson got in some new horses for training. My buckskin’s in… actually, shit, I don’t even remember where Austin moved him.”
She gawks at me. “You were trying to kill me, weren’t you?”
“You caught me. I wanted to murder off my future wife.” Fuck, does that word feel good rolling off my tongue. “This must be the gelding the McKinney Ranch down in Fox Ridge sent over. I don’t think Jackson’s even been on him yet, so clearly you’ve still got some riding skill up your sleeve.”
I jokingly reach for her shirtsleeve, pulling it away from her arm so I can peek up it. Anything to earn the slimmest smile from my girl.
“Stop.” Her lips lift into a half-smile, and her fingers rap against mine. “I got in my head and…well, I wanted you.”
My heart’s real close to bursting from my chest. Stroking her head and using the weight of my arm to pull her against me, I say, “I’m here, baby. You want to try riding with me? Or I can call Austin and see if he’ll drive a truck up here. Tell me what you want me to do.”
Blair hesitates for a moment. “Um…I think I can ride.”
“I don’t want to push you.”
She shakes her head, interlacing our fingers and holding them tight in her lap. “You’ll be right beside me?”
“Nope, gonna take off at a gallop. Make you eat my dust.” I kiss the top of her head. “I’ll be right next to you. Hell, we can even share a horse, if it’ll make you feel better.”
The attempt at a glare she gives me is more adorable than threatening. “You would ditch me, jerk.”
“Bear, I’m never leaving you.” I brush my free hand over her chin, cupping it to hold her eyes on mine. “ Never. Thank you for calling me, instead of doing something that scared you all by yourself.”
This is the man I want to be for her. Maybe now she’s finally ready to let me prove myself.
Her full lips press softly to mine, and she breathes out the words I thought I might never hear again. “I love you.”
“I love you, Blair. I don’t even know how to express it in a way that’ll ever show you exactly how much.”
Slowly, without letting my touch leave the small of her back, we move to stand below our tree. I can’t help myself from pushing her against the rough bark and crashing my lips to hers with a heart-stopping, breathtaking kiss. She quivers under the skimming of my fingertips beneath the hem of her shirt, and the kisses turn frantic. We’re teenagers stealing a moment of privacy, tongues colliding, moans stolen, fingers wandering.
She wraps a hand around the fabric of my shirt, breaking the kiss for a single moment. “, thank you for coming when I called. I didn’t…” Her voice cracks, and she kisses me again, as if the taste of my lips and the feel of our bodies pressed together is what’s giving her the courage to open up. “I wasn’t sure you’d come. I almost didn’t call because I didn’t know how I’d handle it if you didn’t.”
“You call, I come. Always.” My eyes search hers. “I don’t care if I’m a million miles away, or if you think the reason is stupid, I want you to call me every single time the urge strikes you.”
“I love you,” she repeats against my lips. “I love you, Wells.”
“Let’s get the heck out of here before it starts raining again. I think we need a hot shower together and some ice cream in bed.”
She nods, and I grab her hand to lead her toward the horses. As steady and sure as she was while kissing me, she’s noticeably shaken now. It’s not that I thought she was exaggerating when she said she was scared—Blair wouldn’t ask for help unless she felt backed into a corner in some way. Which means she was fucking terrified. And it’s scrawled across the panic in her rich brown eyes, the slow worrying of her bottom lip, and the anger etched between her brows.
Every horse person has been where she is before. It’s easy to say you fall off and get right back on again, but a bad moment can plant seeds of doubt, and eventually the deeply rooted fear can become debilitating.
I squeeze her hand to remind her I’m here, and I’ve got her. “Let’s ride double just until we get out of this clearing. On my actual horse this time.”
“Well—” She looks over at me tentatively, and I smile back. “Okay.”
We both know she doesn’t need any help getting on a horse, but that doesn’t stop my hands from finding her waist and boosting her into the saddle. Once she’s settled, I slip a foot in the stirrup and hop up behind her.
Holding one hand around her and the other leading the buckskin she rode in on, I ask, “You okay?”
Blair’s heart is racing, the hand resting over mine clammy. And naturally, she insists she’s fine. I’m not buying it for a second. Never have. I don’t understand why she still does this, when it’s so obvious I know her better than she knows herself.
“Bear, I love you. You can tell me if you’re not okay.” I kiss her shoulder, hoping she feels the warmth through the fabric. “Five seconds of—”
“I’m a little nervous. Only because it’s been fourteen years, and the horse was getting spooked, and he’s not even your horse, anyway.”
“One spring a couple years back, we were out here driving cattle. The season had been really warm and dry already, and there was a fucking snake on the trail. Well, my mare reared up before I even realized what the hell was happening, and down I went.” I hold tighter around her waist, rejoicing in the slow melting of her tense muscles. “Physically, I was fine. But for some reason I was fucking terrified to get back on. It felt stupid, considering I spend my weekends getting bucked off horses for fun, but it was different somehow.”
“You weren’t prepared for it,” she offers up, glancing over her shoulder.
“Maybe.” I shrug. “Either way, it took a few days before my confidence returned. And that trail probably spooked me even more than it spooked my damn horse for months afterward. It’s okay to be scared, baby. We’ll get you back running barrels before you know it.”
For a minute or so, she’s quiet and contemplative. Her back against my chest, head resting on my collar. Her breathing becomes easier with each step, and she reaches back to stroke my cheek. “I can’t believe I found you.”
My eyes narrow on hers. “Are you sure you didn’t get thrown off and you just don’t remember because you smacked your head? I think you meant I found you .”
“If that happened, I wouldn’t remember because I smacked my head. I meant I can’t believe I came back to Wells Canyon and you were still here. That I found you, and you still love me. You didn’t meet somebody else you wanted to marry, have babies with, and do all the things you wanted.”
“I never wanted those things with anyone but you.” It’s a slow ride across the golden field, with Blair shivering in my arms.
“D-do you want those things still?” she asks after a long period of silence. “A wife and babies?”
“I want whatever you want.”
“No, give me five seconds of honesty.” Her hand moves to rest on my thigh. “Tell me what you want.”
“ You. I want you, Blair. If you’re the bride, I want to get married. If you’re the mother, I want kids.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “What happened back then was a downpour. There was this constant, agonizing, crushing weight on my chest that I couldn’t shake—believe me, I tried. I woke up every morning feeling that way for fourteen years. But you walked back in bringing all the sunlight with you. You didn’t notice how much brighter my life’s been since the ambulance ride, because you weren’t here during the dark days. So I want you. I want your sunlight and your love—whatever comes with that. Understood?”
I feel her head nod slightly against my shoulder. “I came back here after getting the worst news imaginable, and despite the grief of it all, I’m the happiest I’ve been in years. I get it. My life’s been brighter since the ambulance ride, too.”
“I can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together,” I say before pressing a kiss to her temple, just as we skirt around some tall brush, and we’re home free. I’d love to ride the rest of the way home with her safely tucked against my chest, but I’m afraid it’ll only make things that much harder when I want to get her on a horse again. “You feel ready to ride by yourself?”
There’s immediate rigidity where a second ago she was loose and free.
I add, “I’ll give you this horse. I promise she’s as bombproof as they come. And I’ll be right next to you.”
With a hefty exhale, she agrees. And seconds later, I’m mounted on Sandy, or whatever the fuck his name actually is. I look over at Blair, gauging her reaction. Definitely tense, but she’s still breathing—albeit each breath seems calculated.
“Okay, I’m good,” she says, giving a tiny nudge of her heel to get the horse moving underneath her. “I’m good,” she quietly repeats to herself.
When I give my horse a nudge, he stomps his front hoof in defiance. When I give a tiny spur prompt, he goes from zero to one hundred in about two seconds. Little fucker thinks he’s a bronc or something.
“Oh, you fucking bastard, whatever your goddamn name is.” I tighten the reins in, bringing him to a halt that he’s making it clear he’s unhappy about.
“His name’s Sandy,” Blair offers, suddenly looking a lot further from a panic attack than she was a minute ago. In fact, she has a teasing smile that makes this entire shitshow feel worthwhile.
“His name’s about to be glue,” I reply.
“Hey, that’s not nice. He was a very good boy to me for our entire ride.”
My head’s on a swivel as I make Sandy-or-whatever walk in a wide circle—clockwise, then counterclockwise. I’m no horse trainer, like Jackson is, but I subscribe to the belief of fuck around and find out . And this gelding is about to find out, if he doesn’t want to follow my lead.
“Wanna trade?” I ask over my shoulder.
“Come on.” Blair gestures toward the trail with a tip of her head. “Or do I need to teach you how to ride a horse? I know you’re used to getting bucked off, not staying on.”
“ Hilarious. ” I stick out my tongue at her. This time Sandy makes a wise choice by listening to my cues and starting toward the trail without issue.
True to my word, I ride so close I’m able to reach out and give her thigh an empathetic squeeze from time to time. The journey may be slow, but that gives us time to talk. About then, and about now. There’s reminiscing and laughter. And slowly but surely, Blair eases into the saddle with the exuberant confidence she had at sixteen.
When we crest the hillside, staring down the final, steep descent to the barn, I’m genuinely sad it’s over. “We should do this more often. Like…every day.”
“Every day?” Her sweet laugh carries over the wildflower-painted mountain. “I don’t know how I’ll find the time to do that. But maybe weekly. Aside from my little moment of panic, it’s nice to be on a horse again…and even better with you here.”
“I shouldn’t have let you go out alone today. Count on me being there for every ride from now on.” The warm breeze that’s been following me this entire time encircles us again. Call it crazy, but I’m starting to think it’s Mom. “I’ll always be here, Bear.”