7. Blaze
7
Blaze
The mid-morning sun is just beginning to chase away the cool bite of the air when Annie White’s familiar old truck rumbles into the driveway. It’s a little beat-up and coated in dust, much like the woman behind the wheel. Annie hops out with the same energy she’s always had, her cowboy hat casting a shadow over sharp green eyes that don’t miss a thing.
“Blaze!” she calls, her voice carrying easily across the yard.
She slams the truck door and strides toward me like she owns the place. Annie’s been a fixture in my life since I was a kid, and she’s always had a knack for cutting through my bullshit.
“Morning, Annie,” I reply, setting down the post-hole digger I’ve been wrestling with.
“Where’s my girl?” she asks, hands on her hips. “Is she behaving herself?”
Annie keeps her horses here when her ranch’s paddocks get too muddy after a storm, or when she’s short on help.
“She’s fine,” I say, gesturing toward the stables. “Your mare’s settling in. You planning to visit her or interrogate me first?”
Annie chuckles, a raspy sound that always makes me smile. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll get to her. But you look like a man with something on his mind, and I’ve got time to kill.”
I sigh, leaning against the fence. “I’m fine, Annie.”
She raises an eyebrow, a clear signal she doesn’t buy it for a second. “Sure you are. And I’m Miss America.” She steps closer, her gaze sharper now. “Come on, Blaze. What’s eating at you?”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” I say, trying to brush her off, but she crosses her arms and plants herself in front of me like a human roadblock.
“Blaze Ice, I’ve known you since you were knee-high to a grasshopper. You might fool everyone else, but not me.”
I run a hand through my hair. “It’s... complicated.”
“Life usually is,” she says, her tone softening. “But that doesn’t mean you get to carry it all by yourself. Is this about Delaney?”
I stiffen, the name hitting like a sucker punch. “What about her?”
Annie doesn’t flinch. She never does. “I know it’s hard, Blaze, but Delaney’s been gone a long time. I never had a good feeling about her, you know. Something about that girl...”
“She wasn’t perfect, but—”
“But she’s not here,” Annie interrupts gently but firmly. “And you are. You’re alive, you’re getting clean, and you’ve got a chance to start fresh. I see it in your eyes, Blaze. You’re not that angry wild man anymore. I’m proud of you, even if you don’t see it yourself yet.”
Her words hit harder than I expect, loosening something in my chest that’s been knotted for years. “Thanks, Annie,” I mutter, looking away.
“And another thing,” she adds, her tone brightening. “This cleaned-up look suits you, but you better warn the girls around here—it’s downright distracting.”
I smirk, shaking my head. “Didn’t realize you were in charge of my grooming standards, Annie.”
“Seriously, Blaze, cutting out the rebel streak? It’s a good change. You look... settled. Or like you’re trying to be. More like Blake, actually.”
The mention of Blake lands with a thud in my chest, and before I can stop myself, I mutter, “I’m not trying to be.”
Annie’s sharp gaze softens, and she raises a hand in mock surrender. “Relax, hotshot. I’m just saying it suits you.”
***
Later in the day, I catch sight of Margot near the paddock, her figure impossible to miss even from a distance. She’s walking along the fence line, her blonde hair catching the sunlight like a beacon, her hips swaying just enough to draw my gaze lower, and I tell myself to leave it alone, to go the other way. But my legs don’t seem to get the message. They move toward her like I’m caught in some invisible pull, every step feeding the heat straight to my cock.
She notices me as I approach, her expression shifting into something between amusement and challenge.
“You following me, cowboy?”
Her smirk deepens, and my eyes drop—just for a second—to the way her lips curve, full and inviting. I shouldn’t be this close, shouldn’t be thinking about what it would feel like to taste her again, but damn it, she makes it impossible.
“Just making sure you don’t step on any more rattlesnakes,” I say, leaning against the fence. “Seems like you’ve got a knack for trouble.”
She smirks, crossing her arms. “Says the guy who swooped in like some kind of knight on horseback. What was I supposed to do, ignore the snakes and hope for the best?”
“Could’ve called for help,” I shoot back, my lips twitching into a grin. “I hear the locals are pretty helpful.”
“Sure, because I had so much time to pull out my phone and dial 911 while dodging a snake bite.”
Her sarcasm is sharp, but there’s a spark in her eyes that makes it impossible to look away.
“You always this stubborn?” I ask, stepping a little closer.
“Only when someone thinks they know better than me, Cowpoke” she replies, tilting her head. “Which seems to be a recurring theme around here.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “You’re something else, you know that?”
“Something good or something bad?”
“Depends on the day.”
The space between us feels charged, like the air before a storm. I could reach out, touch her, close the gap that seems to shrink every time we’re near each other. But Annie’s words echo in my head, a reminder to move forward responsibly, not recklessly.
“Enjoying your stay?” I ask instead, forcing myself to lean back against the fence, to create some distance.
She narrows her eyes like she knows I’m holding back, but she answers anyway. “It’s... different. Not what I’m used to, but I’ll survive.”
“Different isn’t always bad,” I say, my voice quieter now.
“No, it’s not,” she agrees, her gaze lingering on mine a little longer than necessary.
She turns to leave, and I let her go, even though every instinct tells me to follow. Watching her walk away, I can’t help but wonder how someone I barely know could already feel like a turning point in my life.
As I head back toward the barn, my hands tighten into fists. Keeping my distance is the smart move, but damn if it doesn’t feel like the hardest thing I’ve ever done.