Chapter 5 Storm Shelter #2
The smarter thing would've been avoiding this entire conversation.
Instead, we were trapped together while the weather tried to tear the sky apart.
Outside, rain continued falling in sheets.
Inside, silence settled between us again.
Not awkward silence.
Just quiet.
Oliver eventually stepped away from the photographs.
"You were really good."
I sighed.
"There are pictures."
"I know."
"That's usually a clue."
A small smile appeared.
There it was again.
That smile.
The one that always seemed genuine.
Not forced.
Not calculated.
Just honest.
Something about it made me look away first.
I wasn't proud of that.
The kid moved back toward the feed sacks and sat down.
For a few minutes neither of us spoke.
The storm filled the space instead.
Thunder rumbled overhead.
Wind rattled the old barn walls.
Rain drummed steadily against the roof.
Eventually Oliver stretched his legs out in front of him.
"You miss it?"
The question wasn't surprising.
I knew it was coming.
People always asked eventually.
Friends.
Family.
Strangers.
Everyone wanted to know if I missed rodeo.
The truth was complicated.
Some days I did.
Some days I didn't.
Some days I missed the feeling more than the sport itself.
The freedom.
The excitement.
The certainty that my life was moving somewhere.
"I don't know."
Oliver looked skeptical.
"You don't know?"
"I had a different life back then."
He nodded slowly.
"Was it a good life?"
The answer should have been easy.
Instead, I found myself staring at the rain.
"Parts of it."
Oliver didn't push.
That was another thing I'd noticed about him.
He respected silence.
Most people rushed to fill empty spaces.
Oliver seemed comfortable letting them exist.
It made conversations easier.
Dangerously easy.
A flash of lightning illuminated the barn.
The brief light caught Oliver's face.
His hair had grown slightly longer since arriving.
Not enough to be messy.
Just enough to curl at the edges.
The kid looked different now.
Healthier.
Stronger.
The ranch was changing him.
The observation arrived before I could stop it.
So did another one.
He was attractive.
The realization hit harder than expected.
Not because it was new.
Because it wasn't.
I'd been avoiding it for weeks.
Every time he smiled.
Every time he laughed.
Every time I caught him sketching or talking to horses.
The attraction had been there.
Growing quietly.
Waiting.
I simply hadn't wanted to acknowledge it.
Now we were trapped together with nowhere else to focus.
That made ignoring things more difficult.
Oliver glanced over.
"What?"
I blinked.
Apparently I'd been staring.
Fantastic.
"Nothing."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
The kid was getting better at reading me too.
That wasn't ideal.
"You keep doing that."
"Doing what?"
"Thinking."
I snorted.
"That's generally considered healthy."
"It usually looks painful when you do it."
Against my better judgment, I laughed.
Actually laughed.
The sound surprised both of us.
Oliver grinned immediately.
Like he'd won something.
The reaction did strange things to my chest.
I looked away.
Again.
The problem wasn't the attraction itself.
People noticed attractive people.
That was normal.
The problem was everything attached to it.
The age difference.
The responsibility.
The fact that Oliver worked for me.
The fact that he trusted me.
None of those things could be ignored.
Which meant the attraction needed to stay exactly where it belonged.
Buried.
Forgotten.
Unacknowledged.
Simple.
At least in theory.
A particularly powerful gust of wind slammed against the barn.
The entire structure creaked.
Oliver looked toward the doors.
"That sounds reassuring."
"It's an old barn."
"That's not helping."
A smile tugged at my mouth.
The kid noticed.
His expression brightened instantly.
God help me.
That shouldn't have affected me.
Yet somehow it did.
The storm intensified.
Thunder cracked overhead.
Closer now.
The lightning flashes arrived more frequently.
Oliver tried pretending he wasn't bothered.
The effort wasn't convincing.
Every loud crack made his shoulders tense slightly.
Not enough for most people to notice.
Enough for me.
Eventually another flash lit the sky.
Thunder followed almost immediately.
Oliver flinched.
I raised an eyebrow.
"You afraid of storms?"
"No."
The answer came too quickly.
I waited.
A sigh escaped him.
"Maybe a little."
"There it is."
His eyes narrowed.
"You seem very happy about this."
"I've watched you handle horses twice your size."
"Okay."
"You survived your first week here."
"Also true."
"But thunder scares you."
Oliver pointed at the roof.
"Thunder should scare people."
I couldn't argue with that.
The next lightning strike arrived unexpectedly.
A brilliant flash exploded somewhere outside.
For a split second, daylight filled the barn.
Then came the sound.
Not thunder.
An explosion.
Violent.
Immediate.
Close.
Too close.
The strike hit somewhere nearby.
The entire barn shook.
Dust fell from the ceiling.
One of the horses in an adjacent stall reacted instantly.
The animal reared against its restraints.
Oliver jumped to his feet.
Startled.
The movement happened so fast neither of us had time to think.
Instinct took over.
Pure instinct.
I crossed the distance between us in two steps.
Another crash echoed outside.
Oliver lost his footing slightly on the uneven floor.
Without thinking, I grabbed him.
One arm around his shoulders.
The other braced against his back.
Steadying him.
Protecting him.
The motion felt automatic.
Natural.
Necessary.
Then everything stopped.
The horse settled.
The thunder rolled away.
The barn quieted.
And suddenly I became aware of exactly what I'd done.
Oliver stood directly against me.
Close enough that I could feel his heartbeat.
Or maybe it was mine.
His hands rested against my chest.
My arm remained around him.
Neither of us moved.
For one endless second, the world seemed to hold its breath.
The storm continued outside.
Rain hammered the roof.
Wind rattled the walls.
Yet all of it felt distant.
Unimportant.
Because Oliver was looking up at me.
And I was looking down at him.
Too close.
Way too close.
Every sensible thought in my head disappeared.
The scent of rain clung to him.
His eyes were wide from surprise.
A strand of hair had fallen across his forehead.
The simple urge to brush it away arrived without warning.
I hated that.
I hated how natural it felt.
I hated how difficult it suddenly became to step back.
Another flash of lightning illuminated the barn.
Neither of us spoke.
Neither of us moved.
And for the first time since Oliver Hayes arrived at Blackthorn Ranch, I realized I was standing on dangerous ground.
Because the attraction I'd been trying to ignore no longer felt distant.
Or manageable.
Or temporary.
It felt very real.
And as my arm remained around him while thunder echoed through the storm outside, I wasn't sure which one of us I was trying harder to protect.
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