Chapter 7 Hayden
Hayden
What the hell was I doing?
That was the only thought I had as I pulled into the Turner Ranch, my Jeep tires rumbling over the gravel.
I mean, obviously I didn’t want to do chores for Aunt Dolly.
That part was easy to understand. But why was I going to spend all afternoon with some cocky cowboy that I couldn’t stand who’d forced a kiss on me the night previous?
If anyone didn’t deserve my attention, it was him.
And yet, every time I thought of those rippling muscles, those dark eyes, the perfect stubble, or his stupid fucking Dora the Explorer name, my stomach erupted in butterflies.
Which, to be honest, was the dumbest fucking reaction I could be having toward someone that annoyed the piss out of me.
I’d grant he was easy on the eyes and fucking him had crossed my mind more than once.
But every time he opened his mouth… ugh…
I just wanted to slap him again. Nobody should be that confident.
I parked next to the main house and sat there for a moment, staring at the steering wheel.
This was stupid. I should just turn around, go back to Dolly’s, and tell her I changed my mind about avoiding chores.
At least cleaning tables didn’t involve spending time with someone who made my brain short-circuit every time he flashed that cocky grin.
But before I could chicken out completely, I spotted Diego walking toward my Jeep from the barn.
He’d traded his Christmas festival clothes for worn jeans that hugged his thighs in ways that should be illegal, and a faded blue work shirt with the sleeves rolled up to show off those ridiculous forearms. His cowboy hat was tilted at that perfect angle again, like he’d practiced it in the mirror.
Fucking hell. How was anyone supposed to think clearly around that? Bastard.
“Well, look who showed up,” he said as I climbed out of my Jeep, that insufferable grin already spreading across his face. “Was startin’ to think you’d chickened out, Freckles.”
“Don’t call me that,” I said automatically, though my heart did this stupid little skip when he said it. “And I’m not late. It’s exactly eleven.”
“Never said you were late.” His eyes crinkled at the corners like he was trying not to laugh. “Just said I thought you might chicken out.”
I crossed my arms, trying to ignore how good he looked in the morning sunlight. “What makes you think I’d chicken out?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you looked like you wanted to murder me last night when you agreed to this?” He stepped closer, close enough that I could smell that clean, masculine cologne that seemed to follow him around. “Or the way you’re glarin’ at me right now like I kicked your dog.”
“I don’t have a dog,” I said flatly.
“Figure of speech, city boy.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Come on, let’s get you introduced to your horse for the day.”
“Introduced to a horse?” I scoffed. “We gonna have coffee and a chat with him or something?”
“Not quite, but you’re gonna wanna know him a little bit.” Diego gave me a wink, the kind that probably worked on most of the men he used it on. “When you’ve got a thousand pounds of beast between your legs, you’re gonna at least want to know his name.”
Oh. My. God. This fucking guy.
I followed him toward the barn, irritated as hell already and trying not to stare at the way his jeans stretched across his ass when he walked. This was a terrible idea. I should have stayed in bed with a book and pretended the outside world didn’t exist.
The barn was cool and dim after the bright Texas sunshine, smelling like hay and leather and something indefinably horse-like. Diego led me past several stalls, each containing a horse that looked far too large and intimidating for someone who’d never been closer to one than a carousel.
“This here’s Buttercup,” Diego said, stopping at a stall containing a white mare with gentle brown eyes. “She’s as sweet as her name suggests, and she’s got the patience of a saint. Perfect for beginners.”
I stared at the horse, who stared back with what I could only describe as mild interest. She was beautiful, I had to admit, but also massive. “Are you sure she won’t throw me off?”
“Buttercup? Nah.” Diego reached out and stroked the mare’s neck, and she leaned into his touch like they were old friends. “She’s been teaching folks to ride for years. Haven’t you, girl? And she’s just been cleared for riding again by our resident horse-whisperer.”
The horse nickered softly, and I had to admit there was something calming about the sound. Still didn’t mean I trusted her not to dump me in the dirt the moment I climbed on. And a resident horse whisperer didn’t sound like the most reliable source of information.
“Alright,” Diego said, moving to grab a saddle from a nearby rack. “Let’s get her ready.”
I watched as he worked, trying not to notice how his muscles moved under his shirt as he hefted the saddle.
The man made everything look effortless, from the way he slipped the metal thing into Buttercup’s mouth to how he tightened the strap doohickeys with practiced ease. It was annoying how competent he was.
“You gonna stand there gawkin’ all day, or you wanna learn something?” he asked without looking up, though I caught the smirk tugging at his lips.
“I wasn’t gawking,” I lied, heat creeping up my neck. “I was observing.”
“Uh-huh.” He finished with Buttercup and moved to the next stall, where a larger chestnut horse was waiting. “This here’s Ranger. He’s mine.”
Of course his horse had a manly name like Ranger. And this horse, whoever he was, got to have Diego’s firm, perfectly sculpted ass on his back all day.
“So,” I said, desperate to distract myself from thoughts of Diego’s ass, “how long have you been doing this whole cowboy thing?”
Diego paused in his saddling, glancing over at me with something that might have been surprise. “Since I was sixteen, remember? Why do you ask?”
“Just curious. It seems like...” I searched for the right words. “Like it suits you, I guess.”
“As opposed to what?”
I shrugged, suddenly feeling awkward. “I don’t know. Office work? Retail? Normal jobs that don’t require you to wrestle with thousand-pound animals and rattlesnakes.”
He laughed, the sound echoing through the barn. “Trust me, Freckles. I’m not built for sittin’ behind a desk.”
No, he definitely wasn’t. Diego was all muscle and movement, the kind of man who needed space to exist in.
I could picture him going stir-crazy in a cubicle, probably driving his coworkers insane with his restless energy.
He was probably the sort of guy that needed to live on at least five acres with a fenced-in yard so he could run. Like a golden retriever.
“What about you?” he asked, leading Ranger out of his stall. “What’d you do back in California? Besides modeling, I mean.”
The question hit harder than it should have. What had I done? Posed for photos, went to parties, worked odd jobs to make my half of rent when the modelling didn’t pay… Not exactly an astounding resume.
“Nothing important,” I said, hoping he’d drop it.
But Diego was watching me with those perceptive brown eyes, like he could see right through my lies and into my very soul. I always felt so exposed around him.
“Not everyone can say they’ve been a model,” Diego said, leading the horses out of their stalls. “That’s pretty impressive.”
“It wasn’t,” I muttered. “Just a lot of standing around while people told me I was too fat or too thin or my freckles were showing too much. Oh, and if I wanted to be in the magazine this month that I should get on my knees.”
Diego stopped, giving me a fierce look that made my stomach flip. “Anyone who said you were anything but perfect was a damn fool.”
I rolled my eyes, ignoring the flutter in my chest. “Can we just get on with the riding lesson?”
“Sure thing, Freckles.” He led Buttercup over to a mounting block. “First things first. You need to get acquainted. Let her smell your hand.”
I hesitantly held out my hand, palm flat like I’d seen people do with dogs. Buttercup’s velvet nose tickled my skin as she sniffed me.
“Now stroke her neck, let her know you’re friendly.”
I did as instructed, surprised by how soft her coat felt. Buttercup blinked at me with those big brown eyes, and I had to admit she didn’t seem particularly murderous.
“See? She likes you,” Diego said with a smile that seemed genuine rather than teasing. “Now, let’s get you up there.”
He showed me how to put my foot in the stirrup and swing up, his strong hands steadying me at the waist. The contact sent a jolt through my body that I desperately tried to ignore.
However, that didn’t stop my jeans from getting tight and reminding me how long it had been since anyone had touched me, especially a man.
“Jesus,” I gasped as I settled into the saddle. “I’m so high up.”
“You’re fine,” Diego assured me, adjusting my feet in the stirrups. “Just sit up straight, hold the reins like this—” he positioned my hands “—and remember to breathe.”
His fingers lingered on mine longer than necessary, and our eyes met. For a moment, I forgot my irritation with him, forgot my broken heart, forgot everything except how alive I suddenly felt.
“You ready?” he asked softly.
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
Diego mounted his own horse with practiced ease, looking like he belonged there in a way I never would. He led us out of the barn and into the open fields of the Turner Ranch.
The day was perfect with clear blue skies, a gentle breeze, and warm sun on our faces. Buttercup plodded along patiently beneath me, and gradually I found myself relaxing into the rhythm of her walk.
“You’re a natural,” Diego called over his shoulder.
“Liar,” I shot back, but I couldn’t help smiling. This was actually kind of fun.