Chapter 5
The morning sun broke over Sweetwater like liquid gold, spilling across the hills in soft, shimmering waves.
The air was cool, clean and quiet – the kind of quiet that let a man hear his own thoughts whether he wanted to or not.
Sighing, Hayden rolled onto his back in the still-warm bed, one arm flung across his forehead, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.
He hadn’t slept poorly, but he hadn’t slept deeply either.
His mind, it seemed, had kept galloping long after he’d said goodnight to the mesmerising, captivating, enthralling Miss Brianna Steele.
Even just thinking her name now brought that same warm pull low in his chest. And against his better judgement, he smiled faintly, remembering the way her laughter had lilted like music above the pub noise.
The way her eyes had sparkled, playful one moment, thoughtful the next.
Throughout their conversations, she’d challenged him without even trying, disarmed him with nothing more than honesty and a wry smile.
And the way she’d looked at him …
God help him.
He groaned softly, pushing a hand through his hair.
What had he been thinking, agreeing to Gavin’s idiotic dare?
It had started off as nothing, just a bit of banter, a harmless prod from a mate full of rum and bravado.
But now, after their night at the pub, learning about each other, laughing with one another?
After the drive home and the parting moment at her front gate?
There was nothing harmless about any of it.
He hadn’t planned to be the one to drop her off.
But when Molly had excused herself an hour earlier, loudly proclaiming she was off to bed and that Brianna had absolutely no excuse not to stay for one more drink, the decision had been made for them.
He’d enjoyed just four mid-strength beers across the entire night, slowly, methodically, and had been fine to drive.
And there was no way he was allowing Brianna to wander back to her cottage in the dark on her own.
As harmless as Sweetwater was, he felt an obligation to get her home safe and sound.
Gavin, by contrast, had been laughing so hard at his own jokes that he didn’t even notice his wife Tilly appear at the side of the pub to collect him, giving Hayden a grateful nod as she dragged her grinning larrikin of a husband out the door.
That had left just the two of them.
Him and the beautiful Brianna.
One last drink. One last song from the band.
A slow amble out to his four-wheel drive beneath a canopy of stars.
She’d looked at him like she wanted to say something as they reached her gate, one hand on the strap of her bag, the other curled loosely around the edge of the passenger seat.
But she didn’t. And neither did he. Instead, there’d been a smile.
Quiet. Charged. The kind that held promise and restraint in equal measure.
He could’ve so easily, enjoyably kissed her.
But he didn’t. And now, sprawled out in the silence of his room, he was glad for it.
Because it would’ve been for the wrong reason.
Because of the dare. Because of pride. And she deserved better.
Way better than the likes of him. What the heck had he gone and started?
With that torturous contemplation, he climbed from the tousled bed, stood, and stretched.
The ache in his chest wasn’t guilt, exactly.
It was something deeper. Regret for letting himself step into a situation that didn’t honour her.
Because whatever was sparking between them wasn’t something he wanted tangled up in a bet.
Hell, he didn’t want himself tangled up in it, in her.
She was too … addictive, funny, fascinating, clever … Too good for him.
Grumbling to himself, he tugged on a pair of worn jeans and a clean tee, already knowing what he needed. Thinking could only get a man so far. The rest? That came with riding.
Outside, the paddocks shimmered in the early light. Duchess lifted her head as he approached the fence, her ears pricking at the sound of his boots.
‘Morning, girl,’ he said, his voice low and fond.
She stepped towards him, brushing her nose along his arm, and he slipped the bridle over her ears with practised ease.
Saddling her took no time. He’d done it a thousand times before.
But today, every buckle and strap felt like a return to something honest. Mounting up, he gave her the lightest nudge, and they moved together through the crisp early-morning air.
The paddocks stretched out ahead, wide and forgiving, as they broke into a gallop along the ridgeline.
With the wind slicing past his ears and his heart thundering in time with Duchess’s hoofs, he let it all go.
The pub.
The bet.
The growing pressure in his chest.
Because out here, the world made sense. And out here he made himself a silent promise. He’d come clean. Not today. Not like this. But soon.
Brianna Steele deserved truth.
If there was any chance of something real between them, even a smidgen, it would only be built on trust. And respect. Lots of it.
Who was he kidding?
Why would she want a man like him, a broken man, who wooed a girl on a bet?
Gazing out at the sun-drenched horizon, he slowed Duchess to a canter, then eased her into a gentle walk as they approached the far paddock near the creek line – an area he hadn’t planned to check this morning but had been meaning to since the storms the previous week.
A few of the fences had taken a hit, and this stretch bordered one of the newer grazing zones.
As they rounded the bend beneath a tall grove of river gums, a flash of movement caught his eye.
Sudden and sharp. Duchess shifted beneath him, ears pinning forwards.
A chestnut gelding was down.
Hayden was off his horse in an instant. It was Diesel, the old cutting horse who’d been semi-retired but still thought he was five years younger.
As he quickly approached him, his words low, soothing, cautious, the gelding thrashed his hind legs in the long grass, snorting and wild-eyed.
Foam flecked his mouth, and a dark sheen of sweat coated his flank.
‘Easy, mate … easy,’ he murmured, crouching carefully beside him.
But one glance at Diesel’s distended belly and the spasming of his back legs told him all he needed to know.
Colic.
Damn it.
Serious, and fast-moving by the looks of it.
His heart thumping, he quickened his steps back to Duchess as he fumbled for his phone, already reaching for the halter tied to her saddle.
After racing back to his horsey mate, his fingers worked automatically as he secured Diesel’s head and gently pinned him, trying to calm the frantic movements.
The gelding’s breathing was laboured, every exhale a groan.
He didn’t hesitate.
He called her.
‘Come on, come on,’ Hayden muttered as the line rang.
‘Hayden?’ Brianna’s voice came through, breathy, alert.
‘It’s my horse, Diesel,’ he said without preamble. ‘South paddock. He’s down bad. Colic. I think it’s torsion, maybe even twisted gut. I need you, Bri.’
‘Shit, Hayden, I’m on my way,’ she said instantly. ‘Keep him still if you can. Don’t walk him, just keep him from thrashing.’
‘I know,’ he replied, but the sound of her voice already steadied something in him. ‘I’ve got water at the trough. I reckon he went down less than ten minutes ago.’
‘Okay. I’ll be there in fifteen, hopefully less.’
‘Thanks, see you soon.’ He hung up, stuffing the phone into the back pocket of his jeans as he repositioned himself beside Diesel, kneeling carefully in the grass.
The gelding flinched again, legs kicking out wildly, but Hayden held firm, murmuring low reassurances even as adrenaline surged through him.
And underneath the worry, something else hummed.
Something akin to relief. Because when it mattered, when things hit the fan, he’d called Brianna.
Not because of any stupid dare. But because she was the one person he trusted to show up, calm under pressure, smart as hell, and sharper than any vet he’d known. She was already part of this place.
And maybe, just maybe, part of something else too.
* * *
The back end of her Hilux momentarily losing traction, Brianna gripped the steering wheel as she turned off the main road and onto the gravel drive leading to Sweetwater Acres.
The early-morning sun filtered through the windscreen, casting streaks of gold across her dash.
Dust billowed in her wake, catching in the side mirrors like a shimmering veil.
She didn’t need the GPS anymore. Her hands knew the turns.
Her eyes recognised the subtle rise and fall of the land, the way the light shifted through the paperbarks as the valley opened wide.
But it was more than just muscle memory that drove her now.
It was instinct – and concern. Hayden’s voice had sounded controlled, but tense.
Too calm for someone not worried. The fact that he’d called her, no hesitation, just I need you, had pulled her out the door before she’d even finished her coffee.
Still, her mind couldn’t help drifting back to the night before.
The laughter. The shared food. The flicker of something that felt dangerously close to intimacy.
And that moment at her front gate, the stillness of it.
The unspoken something that had passed between them before she stepped out of the passenger door and away.
She hadn’t let herself read too much into it.
She couldn’t afford to. But when she’d closed the door behind her, leaning against it with a half-laugh, half-sigh, she’d known the truth.
Hayden Pierce was trouble. The kind of trouble her heart had no business inviting in.
And yet … here she was.
But where else would she be when work called? She was a vet.
That was that.