History and Horses #2
“Wanna bet?” Colton shoots back. “Speaking of sure things, I reckon you don’t have the courage to pet Big Brother here.”
My heart thuds inside my breastbone, but I manage to step forward. “How much cash do you have on you?”
He lets out a bark of laughter. “Enough. Go for the nose. Softest thing you’ll ever touch. Well, second softest.”
“What’s the first?” I nonchalantly reach out, like my hand isn’t shaking.
The horse balks. I nearly faint, pulling back my hand before I can touch his nose.
“Whoa, boy. Easy, easy.” Colton’s using that voice again. The soothing one. “You’re nervous, and he senses that. Horses pick up on your energy. If you’re skittish, he’s gonna be skittish too. You gotta be confident and calm. Like this.”
Before I know what’s happening, Colton is wrapping his fingers around my wrist and bringing my hand to Big Brother’s nose.
No preamble. No time to psych myself out or second-guess my sanity.
He just puts my hand on the animal. And you know what?
Neither of us—not Big Brother and not me—balks this time.
I do, however, experience a rush of heat that has my scalp prickling with sweat at the feel of Colton’s firm, authoritative grip on me.
The horse’s nose really is soft. It’s almost velvety and very warm.
“Keep your hand steady,” Colton says. “I’m right here, so he isn’t gonna hurt you. I promise he’s just a big teddy bear on the inside.”
“Aw.” Beck sticks out his bottom lip. “Just like you.”
“Shut up, Beck.”
“Love you too, Colt.”
Big Brother sticks out his lips, tucking his sweet nose into my hand.
I can’t help it. I giggle. “You do like that, huh?”
“Big Brother likes girls,” Beck says.
I carefully start to move my fingers, stroking the horse. It’s weird, but Colton is right—I can actually feel the horse relaxing along with me.
I peer into those depthless eyes of his and sense that well of emotion I saw there earlier. Something in my chest catches.
This is really, really cool.
But then Colton is dropping my hand and clucking his tongue and telling Big Brother it’s time to get tacked up, whatever that means.
Watching them disappear, I feel hot all over. And shaky. And more than a little confused.
“I’m not being perverted like him,” Beck says, “but the softest thing on earth? That’d be my brother’s tender little heart.”
“No shit,” I say with a laugh.
But Beck is serious. “I really do hope you stay, Lainey.”
“I really hope I stay too.” I smile. “I mean it.”
Beck picks up his pitchfork. “I got a busy day ahead. But how about you and me hop in an ATV and take a little tour at some point this week?”
My heart lifts. “I’d love that.”
I feel breathless as the ATV crests a hill a few days later, giving us a wide-open view of the land as far as the eye can see.
Grabbing the handle on the doorframe above my head, I can only stare. “Beautiful. But that’s not the right word. There isn’t a word for this, Beck.”
Taking his foot off the gas, Beck chuckles. “Ulysses and Uma were lucky sons of bitches, I’ll tell you that much.”
“Is that the—”
“Colorado River? Yup. We can head that way. Worth seeing for sure. There’s a spot with a rope swing we used to hit up as kids. I made lots of memories out there.” He gets a faraway look in his eyes as he squints into the distance.
I wonder what stories there are about Beck Wallace here. He’s a warm guy. Kind. Obviously has lots of energy.
But there’s also this…dreaminess about him. Or maybe it’s longing that I’m picking up on.
What do you long for, cowboy?
Makes me think about what I’m longing for as I look out over the incredible vista laid out before us.
Rolling hills dotted with trees and brush rise and fall as far as the eye can see.
There’s still lots of green, but the leaves have started to change, dotting the view with yellows, bright oranges, bold reds.
A canyon yawns open to our right. Beyond that, the Colorado River glitters beneath a wide-open sky so blue it almost hurts your eyes to look at it.
I fill my lungs with clean air that smells like falling leaves and feel my heart rise and my shoulders descend from my ears.
I’m not an outdoorsy person. But a gal could get used to this kind of scenery.
This kind of peace.
“You have one hell of an office,” I say.
The past three days have been…interesting.
I’ve shadowed most of the Wallace family save for Colton, whom I’ve glimpsed here and there.
He always seems to be busy when I’m around.
He’ll be riding off on his gigantic horse just as I walk into the barn, or he’ll be chatting with employees or disappearing into the Wallaces’ newly built arena, where Ava oversees their nascent barrel racing training program.
It’s clear he’s avoiding me. Which, honestly, fuck him. I’d ignore him too if I didn’t think he had some valuable input for all the research I’m doing.
In the meantime, I’m relying on his parents and siblings to help me get my arms around what the Wallaces are all about.
Paige sat at her kitchen table with me for hours yesterday, the two of us flipping through a stack of photo albums. Billie and I went for a long walk through a cleared stretch of land she called the north pasture, where she told me about the animal therapy program she’s hoping to develop.
Tate and Mack gave me a crash course in breeding horses.
It was a wildly shocking but also very informative hour and a half.
Beck laughs at my office comment, turning the ATV to avoid a large white boulder ahead. “Why do you think everyone in my family stuck around all these years? Once you get a taste of this”—he gestures out the windshield—“there’s no going back.”
I get it.
I may not be an outdoorsy kind of girl, but I’m starting to understand the appeal of this life. Being outside in the company of animals and trees, working together to keep everyone and everything alive—
I don’t know. Kinda makes me wish I were born a Wallace. Could I ever live this life? Would I be happier here? Not just because it’s beautiful but also because I’d know from birth that this is what I was meant to do.
I’m jealous that Beck doesn’t seem to have any angst about the path he’s on. I wish I had that kind of certainty about what I’m meant to do with my life.
A cloud of dust rises from a cleared pasture up ahead. I sit up in my seat to get a better look, gasping when I see it’s a herd of horses.
They’re every shape and size: chestnut brown, white with black spots, white manes, dark ones. I can feel the thunder of their hooves in my chest as they dash across the pasture.
They’re stunning. But it’s the cowboy riding a gigantic black horse beside the herd that makes my breath catch.
He’s whipping a literal lasso in a steady circle around his head. Releasing it, he pulls the rope taut when it loops around a runaway horse’s gleaming neck.
I watch, transfixed, as the cowboy brings the horse to heel. It can’t be easy. His hands work quickly, dust billowing up around them as Colt leaps off his horse. The runaway does calm down, though.
Me on the other hand? I’m literally sweating, my pulse taking off at a sprint. Because that’s Colton.
Has to be. I recognize the shirt and the Stetson. He’s as busy as ever, but he’s never looked so sexy.
“You didn’t hear me say this.” Beck ducks his head to look at his brother. “But he’s the best cowboy out of all of us. Colt. He’s a damn fine wrangler. Notice how he lassoed that horse without spookin’ him? Takes muscle, yeah, but also a soft touch.”
I swallow, tucking my hair behind my ears.
Muscle.
Soft touch.
Dear God, I can only imagine how Colt would utilize such lethal weapons in bed. Because they are weapons. And they’d definitely be lethal, those hands of his knowing exactly where to go. How to move. The right amount of pressure to apply.
Heat blooms between my legs. Fuck him.
But really, I can’t stop thinking about him fucking me.