Chapter 30
Enya leaned against the rough wood of Rain’s stall, sitting on a bale of alfalfa with her boots crossed at the ankle, watching Rowan work with the yearlings. He moved with the quiet confidence that came from years of handling animals.
It should be illegal for any man with shoulders that broad to wear faded blue flannel shirts.
The muscles in his forearms flexed as he adjusted the lead rope.
She loved the low rumble of his voice as he spoke to the horse.
The skittish colt pranced in a tight circle, ears flicking back and forth, but Rowan waited him out, patient as the earth, until the young horse exhaled and dropped its head, trusting the human who wanted to teach it how to be a well-mannered, decently behaved horse.
She’d been at Stronghold for weeks now, and every day, Rowan made it harder to remember the fear that had once sent her running here, and the walls she’d built to keep people who loved her out.
Here, with him, those walls felt less like protection and more like a cage she’d outgrown.
She was even training with Rain again, and she couldn’t wait to get back in the arena again.
The floodlights and the barrels were calling to her soul, and there was only so long she’d be able to resist the lure of charging down the alleyway to race the clock.
“You’re staring.” His voice was rough but amused.
He’s not even looking at me.
How the heck does he know?
“It’s not my fault.” She was totally unapologetic. “It’s not my fault you’re pretty.”
That got him. He glanced over his shoulder, his dark eyes catching hers, warm and knowing, and something low in her belly tightened.
There was a heat in his gaze that had nothing to do with the morning sun, and had everything to do with that slow, lazy smirk that made her pulse jump and her throat go dry.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He turned back to the colt, but not before she caught the wink he sent in her direction.
“It’s not a bad thing,” she stepped closer until she was just behind him, close enough to catch the scent of hay and leather and something uniquely him—cedar and gun oil and the faintest trace of sweat. “But it sure is nice to watch.”
Rowan exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head. The colt sidestepped, tossing its mane, but Rowan’s grip on the rope never wavered. “You’re gonna make me mess up,” he muttered, though there wasn’t any real irritation in his voice.
“No, I’m not.” Enya walked over to lean on the bars of the corral.
She reached out before she could second-guess herself, her fingers brushing lightly over the tense line of his shoulder.
The contact was fleeting, barely there, but the air between them crackled with it.
She let her hand drop, but the warmth of him lingered against her skin. “You don’t mess up, Rowan.”
He caught her wrist before she pulled fully away, his fingers wrapping around it with a possessiveness that sent a shiver up her spine. His thumb traced the inside of her pulse point, knowing how much she loved the way her blood hummed beneath his touch. “You’re dangerous, darlin’,” he growled.
She swallowed, her breath hitching in her throat. The sounds of the horses faded into the background until all she could hear was the steady thud of her own heart. “So are you,” she whispered.
For a suspended moment, the world narrowed to the heat of his skin against hers, the rough callouses of his fingers, the way his gaze darkened like a storm rolling in over the mountains.
There was a promise in his eyes, something raw and untamed, and Enya found herself leaning in, drawn to it like a moth to flame.
Clearly annoyed by their distraction, the colt tossed its head with an impatient snort, and the lead rope slipped through Rowan’s fingers. The spell broke, and he released her with a smirk, though his eyes still burned with enough heat to make her seriously consider dragging him back to bed.
“Go saddle Rain,” he nodded toward the tack room. “We gotta ride out to check the south fence line. Some of the posts took a beating in that storm last night.”
Enya grinned, her heart pounding so hard she was sure he could hear it, and turned toward the tack room.
The wooden floorboards creaked beneath her boots, the familiar scent of oil and leather wrapping around her as she reached for Rain’s bridle.
Outside, she could hear Rowan’s voice again, patient and steady as he coaxed the colt into another circle.
Days like this make being alive worth it.
An hour later, they rode side by side along the sprawling tree line that surrounded the ranch.
Rain moved beneath her with an easy gait, each step rhythmic and almost soothing, his powerful muscles loosening with every stride as he settled into the ride.
Rowan kept pace on Witch. The mare’s ears flicked forward repeatedly, her alert curiosity evident as she scanned their surroundings.
“He looks so much happier.” Rowan nodded towards Rain.
Enya smiled and reached down, her fingers gently stroking her boy’s neck. “He is. Thanks to this place. This world you’ve built here fixes the broken and breathes new life into the ones who have forgotten how to live.”
“There is something about this place,” he agreed. “I’ve never quite been able to figure out what it is…but it’s there.”
“It’s you too, though, babe,” she insisted earnestly, leaning slightly forward in her saddle. “You let him be. You didn’t push him.”
That phrase caught his attention, and he reined Witch to a stop, turning in his saddle to face her squarely. “You think I don’t push?” His voice held a challenge, but his eyes were searching, asking for something deep and unspoken that she didn’t quite understand.
Enya halted Rain beside him, the two horses sidling up alongside one another as she met his gaze steadily. “I think you know when to,” she replied, “but I also think you miss some blatantly obvious cues.”
Something flickered in his eyes—recognition, hopefully of the circles she was talking in.
Then, in a moment that felt both tender and electrifying, he reached over and tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering gently against her cheek, sending a shiver of warmth radiating throughout her body.
“You’re saying I don’t push you enough?”
She leaned into his touch, reveling in the moment, her breath coming shallow as excitement thrummed beneath her skin. “I’m saying maybe you should push a little more and find out,” she murmured, her heart racing at the intimacy of their exchange.
Rowan’s thumb brushed softly against her bottom lip, his voice turning rough, barely above a whisper. “Careful, sweetheart. I might start believing you mean that.” His eyes sparkled with a teasing challenge, yet the gravity of his words made her pulse quicken even more.
Enya didn’t respond with words, finding that the silence between them was far more potent than any sentence she could construct.
Instead, she closed the distance, leaned in, and pressed her mouth to his in a kiss that began softly, sweetly, before deepening into something more visceral and hungrier.
Rowan made a low sound against her lips, a mix of surprise and longing, his hand sliding to the back of her neck, cradling her there with a possessive urgency, as though he was afraid she might slip away.
When the horses moved, they were pulled apart.
“Damn it, Enya,” he murmured, the hushed words tinged with a mix of frustration and desire.
“What?” Her voice was playful, though her heart raced with the thrill of their kiss.
“You’re gonna ruin me,” he said, the gravity of his admission hanging in the air. “Sitting on a horse is not the place for this.”
Her heart stuttered at the weight of his words, a thrill of triumph sparking within. “Is ruining you a bad thing?” she asked, “because if it’s not, then we should hurry up and check that fence, so we can move on to more…um… fun things.”
He stared at her for a moment, then shifted in the saddle, “Let’s go.”
Back at the sprawling ranch, as daylight gradually surrendered to twilight, Rowan fired up the grill.
The flames licked hungrily at the air while Enya tossed together a salad at the rustic outdoor table nestled under the expansive oak tree.
The golden light of dusk was warm and inviting, and stretched long shadows across the yard.
It painted everything in a rich, soft glow as the world prepared to fade from day into night.
One by one, the rest of the team wandered up from the barns, bringing with them the familiar sounds of camaraderie and spirited banter.
Gael ambled out of the house with a six-pack of beers cradled in his arms. Jericho and Colson could be heard bickering about something trivial, the banter infused with their unmistakable dry humor, while Dawsyn had already seized the opportunity to snag a particularly tempting bite of cheese from the cutting board.
This was what living was all about. She loved the easygoing atmosphere and how the ranch itself, with its creaking wooden structures and sprawling fields, exuded a warmth that wrapped around her like a favorite blanket, making her feel more at home than even the wonderful home she’d grown up in ever had.
As Rowan expertly flipped the thick, juicy steaks on the grill, his sleeve rode up to reveal the inked compass on his forearm, a tribute to the direction he hoped to find in life.
Enya’s eyes traced the lines of his tattoo, her gaze skipping to the way his biceps flexed with each movement, the muscles rippling under his sun-kissed skin, and she fanned her face.
A girl could get all hot and bothered around here without much encouragement at all.