Chapter Nineteen
Eat the Food
“ T his is a bad fucking idea,” I mutter, tugging the cinch strap snug around Dusty’s torso. The old boy flicks an ear back at me, more annoyed by my nerves than the pressure. “Really bad.”
Griff chuckles behind me, his arms hooked over the stall door like he’s got nowhere better to be. “Wilder’ll be fine,” he says, eyes tracking the scene across the barn. “And if he falls, he’ll land in mud. How bad can it be?”
I scoff and toss him a glare while checking the girth again. “When’s the last time you got trampled by a thousand-pound horse, Sarge? And for the record, it’s not him I’m worried about.”
My gaze finds Georgia immediately—jeans tucked into her boots, a Carhartt she borrowed from one of my sister’s zipped to her chin, cheeks pink from the cold.
She’s standing with Wiki—a new stable boy I just met—Wilder, and a ranch hand named Emmy—one of Hazel’s old classmates, who can’t stop staring at Wilder.
And Wilder? He’s ready to mount Emmy, not his fuckin’ horse.
At some point, Georgia tamed her wild curls into a messy braid that drapes down her back, swishing against the curve of her round ass with every laugh and nod.
My cock throbs at that curve, at the thought of wrapping that damn braid around my fist while I fuck her from behind.
I tip my hat up and run a hand down my face. I’m losing my mind.
Griff nudges a boot through a patch of straw. “You’ve been starin’ at her for ten minutes, man.”
“I’m not staring.”
“Brooding, then.”
“I don’t brood. I’m supervising.”
Wiki touches her arm, and my jaw pulses erratically. Kid may be young and dumb, but that doesn't mean I can’t fire him.
“She’s not learning a damn thing right now except how to get dead.”
“Then why the hell aren’t you the one over there showin’ her?” he barks, brows furrowed. “You know a fuck of a lot more than that pimply-faced tween.”
My throat constricts, keeping the words I want to say trapped.
Because if I go over there, I’m gonna put my hands on that woman. If I go over there, I’m gonna see her freckles and smile and sniff her perfume, and then I’m probably gonna kiss her, like I almost did back in my house.
What started off as an easy way to make her blush, to see that little line pulse between her eyes, and her tiny fists clench like she wants to choke me—became so much more, and way too much, all at once.
Worst of all is that what I said? It was the truth.
Wilder may have been fucking with me the other day saying I have a breeding kink, but fuck, maybe I do. The idea of a bunch of kids is one thing. Having them, loving them—I want that more than anything. Always have.
But the idea of making ’em?
What’s worse is that Georgia didn’t seem all that taken aback or opposed, and that thought is what’s wrecking me the most.
I grab the bridle, and Dusty lowers his head so I can guide the bit past his teeth. I buckle the throat latch and rest a hand on his warm neck, letting my fingers press into the familiar muscle.
It’s been over two years since I rode a horse—which is two years too damn long.
It feels good to be back in the barn my grandpa built. It’s all rough wood and wide beams, but solid. Not quite as big as the newer barn a ways down the walk, but it’s warm, clean, and smells like hay, cedar shavings, and petrichor.
The animals here are family. And Archers don’t let family get hurt.
Satisfied with Dusty’s tack, I snag my Stetson from the corner post and tug it down.
“You like her,” Griff murmurs. I say nothing and he huffs. “Sure that’s smart?”
“I can’t stand her,” I say roughly. “So smarts got nothing to do with it. I’ve got a week left to get shit sorted for Aurora.” My throat constricts. “Sure as hell don’t have time fuck around like this.”
I’d been prepared to turn my sisters down.
I have a list a mile long and enough stress to send me into a cardiac.
But the second Georgia said she was down to go mudding with the crazy-ass ranch hands who have about as much self-preservation as my mom’s suicidal puppy, I knew I couldn’t stay back. Had to watch out for her.
“You can leave,” he challenges, like he already knows what I’m thinking.
“Yeah,” I grunt, shooting him a look. “Pretty sure I won’t get custody if a social worker dies on my watch.”
He chuckles, shaking his head and gestures to the pasture. “And I’m sure there are about fifteen cowboys out there that’ll be more than happy to keep your pretty little Georgia safe.”
“She ain’t mine,” I mutter, stomach souring. “And not a single one of those dicks will get near her.”
Griff barks out a laugh. “Ain’t yours, my ass.”
Shoving down the strange twist in my chest his words cause is harder than it should be.
I glance up just as Wiki finishes inspecting the tack on Georgia’s horse—a sweet mare named Pudding. He gestures to the stirrup, and I already know he’s telling her to mount.
But even from ten feet away, I can see the cinch strap’s hanging loose—low enough she’ll slide sideways the second she tries to mount. And if that weren’t enough, the fucking bit’s not even buckled right.
My blood boils.
I charge across the barn, boots pounding the ground loud enough to make a few heads turn. “Don’t you fucking dare, freckles!”
She freezes. Wiki freezes. All the horses in the stalls freeze. Wilder and Emmy? Oblivious. Probably about three giggles and an innuendo away from raw-dogging it in the tack room.
Georgia’s mouth drops, arms snapping across her chest. “The hell is wrong with you?”
I don’t answer. Just slow my pace as I near Pudding, keeping my voice low and hands steady so I don’t spook her.
“Get out,” I growl at Wiki, nudging him back.
“Wh-what?” he stammers, his straw hat flopping sideways as he stares at me, wide-eyed. “I—” His throat bobs, and he flicks his gaze to Georgia, giving her a look like she can save him.
Acid swims in my sternum, and my fists clench.
Eyes narrowed, I slide my attention down to his goddamn tennis shoes and jab a finger at them. “Get some real boots, kid. You’re gonna lose a fuckin’ toe. Don’t come back till you have ’em.”
“Kade!” Georgia gasps, stepping in like she’s forgotten every single thing I’ve said today. All the ways we got too close. The feel of my hands on her hips.
She leans enough for her breath to graze my jaw. “Not everyone has money for fancy boots. And Wiki is nice. Don’t yell at him.”
Her shoulder brushes mine and my entire body lights up like a fucking livewire. And because I’m a masochistic fool, I inhale.
Jesus. Mary. And Joseph.
This woman’s scent should be illegal.
My eyes cut to hers, and I’m seriously scrambling for composure here, so I say the first thing that comes to mind.
And because I’m slightly neurotic, and too-damn turned on, definitely losing blood flow to my head—I shout it in her gorgeous face. “Why are you telling me what to fuckin’ do?”
Doesn’t even bat an eye. She simply shrugs “Because someone needs to.”
That mouth twitches. Then she bites her lip.
My cock punches my goddamn zipper.
“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”
There’s not a lick of her that’s sorry, but when she bites her lip and stares up at me with those big green eyes, I find I don’t really give a fuck.
“I didn’t say stop, darlin’,” I murmur, voice low and rough. “But you should know—I’m piss poor at takin’ orders.”
“Ain’t that the fuckin’ truth,” Griff hollers, stomping up with Dusty’s reins in one hand and a grin on his face. “I’m takin’ him out to warm him up.”
“NO! You’ll break the poor bastard’s back!” Wilder cries, throwing himself onto his mare's back—a new one I haven’t met yet.
Everyone gasps, and I prepare to grab Georgia and haul her to safety if Wilder sets off a chain reaction. The mare rears slightly, but he coos and pats her neck, and to everyone's shock, she settles.
“Oh wow,” Emmy says, eyes wide and practically swooning. “You’re a natural.”
Griff scoffs. “Or he’s just full of shit. Asshole spent three summers ridin’ with me in Tennessee.”
Emmy’s head snaps to Wilder. “You said you’d never ridden before!”
His cheeks go pink, but the dick just winks.
“No, baby girl. I said I’ve never ridden you .” He clicks his tongue and guides the mare down the barn aisle like he was born in a saddle. “But I’ve got a feeling that’s about to change.”
Emmy squeals and climbs on her own horse, galloping after him. Wiki chases her. And just like that, I’m left standing in the middle of the barn…
Alone with Georgia Walker.
Exactly where we shouldn’t be.
“So,” she drawls, rocking back on her boots, brows high. “Was there a reason you barreled over here like a—”
“Rabid hyena?” I mutter.
A beat, and then a giggle bursts from her ruby-stained lips. A smile sneaks up on me at the light sound, but I shake my head, sighing. My hands slip into the deep pockets of my jacket, and I pull out an apple, banana, and a bag of almonds.
My big hands hold the loot between us like an offering, and I look away, jaw ticking.
“What’s this?” she asks. “For the horse? Wiki said she just had—”
“No,” I grunt, digging a few pills from the pocket of my jeans. “You need to take somethin’ for that hip before you ride. Looked up what’s safe for your stomach. Internet said acetaminophen, but not to take it on an empty stomach.”
I didn’t miss the way she limped around my house, or every flinch and twinge from her hip. Must have hurt it slamming the breaks when she went in the ditch. I make a mental note to teach her how to safely coast when caught in the mud.
The I ask myself when the fuck I started caring enough to do something like that.
“Wh-what?” She looks shocked, a little confused, and maybe like she might cry. “Where did you…when…”
“It’s not a big deal,” I grumble, thrusting them at her. “I ran by the Big House on my way here.”
“Kade…”
“It’s a snack, not a million dollar condo!” I bark, cheeks burning red-hot. “Eat the fuckin’ food, or I’ll give it to the horse.”
When she still doesn't take a single thing, I step into her, shoving each item into her pockets.
She sucks in a breath, staring up at me, all wide eyes and thrumming pulse.
Her breaths puff against my jaw, and I can see a slight tremble in her frame.
I’m half worried I might kiss her into submission, but a bigger part of me’s worried she’s going to pass out, or fuck, fall off the horse from the pain.
Gripping her chin, I drag our faces closer and pinch tight enough to make sure she’s listening.
“You may hate my guts, Georgia Walker, but I’ll be damned if I watch you slide off one of my fuckin’ horses because you’re too stubborn, or self-conscious to eat in front of me.
” I swallow hard, eyes flicking between hers.
“Don’t know when it happened, but I care about you and your wellbeing.
Take care of yourself, I’ll be forced to do it for you. Got me?”
“Okay,” she finally breathes, nodding once. “I got you.”
My fingers hover a beat longer than necessary and her eyes drop to my mouth where they linger.
Then her stomach growls like it’s begging for what I’m offering, and like the caveman I am, I growl right back, releasing her.
“Eat,” I snap, pointing at her pocket. “You don’t like any of that, we’ll leave and I’ll take you to a diner. But you’re eating.”
She bobs her head and pulls the banana from her pocket in a daze.
I wait until she’s eating to gesture to the cinch. “It’s loose. You’d have slid right off the second your weight hit the stirrup.”
Georgia hums around the fruit, watching me tighten it, and I do everything I can not to fixate on the sight of her lips and mouth stuffed full of a phallic-shaped item.
Clearing my throat, I check, and double-check, the saddle, blanket, and girth, giving each strap a firm tug before moving to the horse's legs. Just as I look away, I hear the plastic open and I know she’s eating the almonds.
A smile tugs at my lips, but I hide it behind my lapel.
“She’s wearing boots?”
“Wiki said she overreaches sometimes.”
My eyes snap to hers, and she gives me a soft, knowing smile, meadow eyes bursting with hidden laughter. Squinting, I slowly push to my feet, knees cracking, thigh protesting like hell.
“What else did Wiki say?” I murmur, suspicion ghosting across my neck.
She taps a finger to her lips and makes this cute little sound I quickly memorize. Her free hand smooths down Pudding’s dappled coat with so much love and appreciation, the horse’s eyes fall closed.
“Well,” she breathes, moving in a circle. I notice how she’s careful not to get too close to Pudding’s hind legs, like she already knows she could get killed by a back hoof alone. “He said she seems a little cooped up. Restless, like she hasn’t been properly exercised in a few days.”
“No way Wiki knew a fucking thing about that.” I shake my head slowly, confused as fuck, but intrigued, too. So damn intrigued.
She smirks, lifting a delicate shoulder as she pockets the bag. “Maybe you’re underestimating him. He’s smart.”
“He’s young and dumb.” I scowl.
“He’s eighteen,” she says softly, stopping at Pudding’s head. Her fingers move, slow and deliberate, tracing beneath the mare’s eyes. “And he may not be the best, but he’s learning. He needs this job. Be kind to him.”
I wanna tell her to stop bossing me around, but I like it too much to open my mouth. Not only that, but I’m transfixed by the way Georgia keeps her gaze locked on Pudding’s, the horse staring right back, like they’re exchanging silent words—some kind of instant connection between them.
And suddenly, I’m jealous of a fuckin’ horse.
“You talked to Wiki for less than an hour. How’d you find out enough to vouch for him?”
“Wiki talked, and I listened.” Georgia shifts slightly, adjusting Pudding’s bridle like it’s second nature, then runs her thumb along the bit. Her brows dip. “This wasn’t seated properly. Was probably pinching.”
She fixes it in a single, smooth motion and Pudding immediately huffs out a long breath, eyes going half-lidded.
And just like that, I know.
She’s done this before. Not once. Not in some rich girl, summer camp way. This is instinct. Muscle memory.
“Where’d you learn that?” I ask, but it’s not casual. It’s gravel and curiosity and way too fucking intense.
“Must’ve picked it up from Wiki.”
She smirks, mounting Pudding in one perfect, quick motion, and my heart leaps just as my dick rises.
The horse toes at the straw, prancing sideways for a beat, but Georgia doesn’t even blink, just soothes her, cooing quietly. And then she’s at my side, bending down and brushing something from my shoulder.
“Bit a hay,” she murmurs, shooting me a wink. “Try to keep up, sunshine.”
A blink later, my hat is on her head and she's racing off into the goddamn metaphorical sunshine, leaving me in the dust.
Fucking hell.
She’s not just beautiful, she’s dangerous.
And I’m so screwed.