Chapter 7
CATFISH
Atom’s father might not have been a good man. But he was a damn good horse breeder.
He bred horses that descend from war horse lines for their strength and agility in difficult terrain yet had the speed for a charge.
And Blaze is no exception.
He’s an angry horse, at times.
Sometimes petulant.
But I swear to God, the way he’s nuzzling Wren like a fucking puppy is wild.
I know Atom would say horses can see right through to your soul.
They can read your mood. They know your intentions.
It’s why equine therapy is used for so many things from alcoholism to depression to helping resolve childhood trauma.
But I would never have imagined Blaze would have been suitable for the task.
I step closer to the two of them, and Blaze whinnies, acknowledging my existence.
“Yeah, don’t be looking at me like that,” I say. “When I’m the one who pays for you to be stabled in this palace.”
Wren turns slightly so they can see me. “Don’t grumble at him.”
“And don’t you be defending him either. Here.” I wrestle an apple out of my pocket and hand it to Wren.
“Oh God. How do I feed him?”
I’m a bit confused for a moment. “You’ve been around horses before, right?”
They shake their head. “No.”
I chuckle. “Well, you sure had me fooled, the way you walked up to this grumpy bastard’s stall and hugged him.”
Wren stands and puts their hands on their hips. “For the record, it felt like we both needed one.”
I turn and study my horse, a thick blanket over his back in a stable three times the size of some of the others, decked in straw with a fucking underfloor heating system. “He needed a hug?”
As if on cue, Blaze turns to look at me with mournful eyes.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, now you got my horse looking at me like he’s been maltreated his entire life.”
The smile I get in return from Wren makes me realize there isn’t much I wouldn’t do to keep it there permanently. The darkness that drenched them this morning is lifted.
Wren scared the shit out of me when I first saw them, on their knees, trying so damned hard to scoop up the china fragments with their own hands.
“You want to ride him?” I ask.
Wren’s mouth opens, and their eyebrows rise high. “I can do that?”
I shrug. “Why not.”
“I’ve never been on a horse before. Like, he won’t just take off down a hill or something? I don’t mind a bit of risk, but not the kind that ends with broken bones.”
I approach Blaze and playfully nudge Wren out of the way with my shoulder.
“You wanna pop Wren’s horse-ride cherry?” I ask Blaze, reaching for the halter he’s currently wearing so I can rub his muzzle.
Blaze tries to shake off my touch.
“Yeah, you do. Let’s get you ready.”
“Can I help?” Wren asks.
Knowing Blaze like I do, I shake my head. “I got it. Blaze doesn’t love the process.”
I know the stable hands at Atom’s ranch do a good job of taking care of him, but I still take a moment to use a curry comb to loosen any dirt or loose hairs from where the tack will sit.
“You want to make sure there’s nothing that’s gonna rub or cause sores before you put everything on him,” I say to Wren as they lean back against the wall opposite the stall.
When I’m done, I lead Blaze out into the center of the stable, where I tie him up near the rear of the racks holding the equipment I need.
I place a nice thick saddle pad on his back and slide it, so all his hair lies flat beneath it. “Even though he’s descended from war horses, he can be a bit precious if he feels uncomfortable,” I explain.
“Aren’t we all?” Wren replies.
I glance up and down their body. Wren is clad in my thickest and warmest leather jacket, and yet they’re still blowing into their hands.
“I guess there’s truth to that.”
Blaze begins to pace around on the spot as soon as he sees me reappear with the saddle. “We’ve done this before, B. Just cool your heels, and it’ll be over in two minutes.”
Wren’s face changes, their smile dropping. “I don’t want to make him uncomfortable or hurt him if he doesn’t want to do this.”
I look at Blaze. “You hear that? Wren doesn’t want to force you to take them for a ride if you don’t want to. What kind of horse doesn’t want to be ridden by someone as cute as Wren?”
I swear to God, my fucking horse looks over to Wren and then stops walking.
It’s a coincidence, I know, because even though Blaze is a clever horse, he’s not a fucking linguist.
He remains still while I fasten the girth and bridle him. One last check, and he’s done. “So, you can be a good boy when you want to be?”
Blaze nudges me in the shoulder by way of apology. At least, I like to think it is.
I untie Blaze, keeping hold of the end of the rope, then reach for Wren’s hand. It’s cold in mine, but the skin is soft, the grip firm.
“You got gloves?” I ask.
Wren nods. “In my pocket.”
“Come on, let’s take you for a ride.”
We trudge through the snow, hand-in-hand, until we get to the oval paddock at the center of Atom’s ranch.
I try not to overthink why I keep hold of Wren, beyond it feeling…
reassuring…and being reluctant to let go when I need to tie Blaze to the fence while I open the gate. I lead him in. Wren follows.
“Now that I have to get up on him, I realize how tall he is,” Wren says. “I guess this isn’t like riding a bike where your feet touch the ground.”
I laugh. “Definitely not. I mean, you’d need to ride a miniature pony to pull that off. Come here.”
Wren does as I ask, and I can see the trepidation in their eyes as they gingerly step closer.
“Don’t give me that I’m scared crap when you were just holding on to him and hugging him for dear life. Put your gloves on then put your hands here.”
I help Wren get a hold properly and get their foot in the stirrups. “Are you sure about this?” they ask.
“I’m gonna grab hold of you to help you get up and over with this other leg. On three. One…two…three…”
Wren looks shocked as hell when they end up on top of the horse. “Oh my God. I’m riding a horse.”
I loop the long length of rope around my hand. “Technically, you’re sitting on a horse. To be riding, you’d have to be moving.”
“Shut up.”
I bite back a grin. “C’mon, Blaze. Let’s impress Wren.”
We start off slow, and I have to walk real close to Blaze, keeping the rope short, because this boy wants to be ridden.
Hard.
And I kinda feel his pain.
For all his fussing around with thick seat pads and diva behavior when he sees a saddle, once it’s on, he wants to ride like the wind.
“Easy, boy,” I say when he tugs hard at the rope.
“Oh my God, look. Now I’m riding.”
Wren’s leaning forward way too far. “Sit up straight, like there’s a string pulling you up from the top of your head.”
Carefully, Wren does as I ask. “Is this better?”
I nod. “And remember, Blaze can feel every shift in weight, so confidence and calmness matter. You dig a knee into him, he’s gonna turn.”
I see their thighs relax a little and find myself grappling with the same feelings I’ve had since Wren and I met.
A tug at something sexual. And I’m thinking thoughts that go against everything Willa told me about being respectful, because I’m guilty of wondering what Wren looks like naked, and whether I’d like exploring the urges I’m feeling with them.
Blaze glances at me, as if to ask me if this is all there is today. I pat his muzzle. “Sorry, bud. We gotta take it slow with the newbies.”
I swear he rolls his eyes in disgust.
I look down at the snow, deep enough that the hem of my jeans is getting wet. Soon, this whole paddock will be unusable. The cattle will be moved inside until spring.
Fucking hate this time of year.
Mom tells me every year that we need the darkness. That it’s only when a plant goes back inside itself, disappearing underground, that it can do the work to form the strongest possible roots before it blooms again the following spring.
I get the analogy.
But it doesn’t make being truck-bound or dealing with fewer hours of daylight any more fun.
“Can I go a little faster?” Wren asks.
I glance up at them. “Feeling confident?”
Wren shrugs. “What’s the worst that can happen?”
I let a little more rope out so Blaze can walk a wider circle and encourage him to move a little faster. “We’re about to find out.”
Blaze moves from a walk to an undignified trot. He shakes his head, and his thick mane moves with him.
Wren begins to bounce in the seat a little. But their laughter is clear and bright as they move around the paddock.
“You wanna go faster?” I ask.
“Yes. But I’m scared I’m gonna fall off.”
“You want me to get on behind you?” I’m not sure what the etiquette is. If this was a woman, I’d have flirted my way onto the back of that horse already. Fuck, we’d likely already be on our way out into the woods.
I find myself holding my breath.
“Sure,” Wren says, and wriggles forward on the saddle.
I smile to myself, then look at Blaze. “Do not move, or you will make me look like a total fucking idiot.”
I walk up behind Blaze. Then run and leapfrog on behind Wren, who yelps as I land behind them.
Blaze dances a bit of a jig as I scoop the reins into one hand and place my other around Wren’s waist. Blaze shifts under the combined weight, his ears flicking back at this unusual arrangement. I’ve never taken someone else out on him with me.
With Wren’s back pressed flush against my chest, I can feel their warmth through all the layers we’re wearing. And do I get a perverse pleasure seeing Wren in my jacket?
Yes, I fucking do.
I’m wearing the spare I keep in the back of the truck.
“You good?” I ask, leaning to one side so I can dip my nose closer to the side of Wren’s head. Their hair is as soft as I thought it would be.
“Yes.” Wren’s single word is roughly spoken.
“Hold steady. I’ll do the work. You just keep your hands on the horn of the saddle.” Their hands are in gloves now, but I think back to earlier when I held Wren’s hands in mine, patching up their cuts. They were slender, but strong, with short, unpolished nails.
Wren grabs the horn with both hands, and I wonder for a moment what it would be like for them to jerk my cock until I come all over them.
“Breathe,” I coax as Wren stiffens; their pulse must be racing faster than Blaze’s shifting muscles. “Move with me and Blaze. You’re gonna be fine.” I tighten my arm around Wren’s waist. “I’m not going to let you fall. And if you want to stop, just say so.”
I’ve never been more grateful that Atom’s grandfather installed a mighty-sized paddock.
I click my tongue twice, Blaze’s signal to move, and give him a gentle squeeze with my heels. Knowing my rhythm, Blaze surges into a trot, the rhythmic bounce jostling Wren in my arms.
“Faster?” I ask.
“Yes,” Wren shouts as the world starts to rush by. I urge Blaze into a smooth and powerful canter. The sudden burst of speed steals Wren’s breath, the wind tangles their hair, and I keep my face to the side of theirs to stop it whipping me.
There are three sounds I love most in life. The roar of my motorcycle. The cries of sex. And the way the ground thunders beneath iron hooves.
Wren’s body presses back against mine. “Take the reins,” I say.
“God, no,” Wren squeals.
But I free one of their hands and weave the reins on it. “He listens. So, trust him.”
I feel the tension slip out of Wren’s body as they let themself embrace the rush of speed and hopefully the feel of my body up against theirs.
Their confidence grows, leaning into the turns, using their thighs and center of gravity to steer us around the edges. Along the straight, we hurtle, and Wren’s laughter leaves me as exhilarated as they are.
“Rein him in.” A voice cracks over the paddock, and I see Atom standing by the fence.
I reach for the reins and take them from Wren to slow Blaze down and guide us over to my best friend.
We’re the same height, but the man is solid muscle from top to toe. Years of toiling on the ranch before his grandfather handed it over to him.
“What the hell were you thinking, bringing Wren out here against orders?” Atom asks, his face etched with the kind of lines that tell me the club’s sergeant at arms is mad at something.
“Wren needed air,” I answer honestly.
“So, open a fucking window in the bakery’s apartment.”
Reluctantly, I drop down off the back of Blaze so I can face him man-to-man.
“It’s too early in the morning for you to be this upset.” I hold tight to the reins and Blaze tosses his head about.
He glances over my shoulder to Wren. “Did you forget what your job was?”
Protect Wren at all costs.
“There’s not a single soul out here. That’s why I chose this place, because it’s safe. What’s really eating you?”
Atom shrugs and adjusts his Stetson. “I hate having to come rein in my friend when I know he’s gonna be facing trouble.”
“What the fuck did I do that’s so bad?”
Atom winces and squeezes my shoulder. “You need to get inside and talk to Grudge, because he was there when Smoke saw you sneaking out of the bakery on the camera footage, and he’s pissed.”