Chapter 6 - Sierra
"Gentle heel pressure," Wade repeats, and I force myself to focus on his words instead of the memory of his hands on my body.
I squeeze my heels against Daisy's sides, and she starts walking. The movement is jarring at first, my body trying to figure out how to move with her instead of against her. But I focus on what Wade taught me: sit deep, heels down, shoulders back.
"Good!" Wade calls from where he's standing in the center of the arena. "Keep that posture. Let your hips move with her."
My hips. Right. I try to relax into the saddle, to let my body follow Daisy's rhythm, and oh God, that's worse.
The friction of the saddle between my legs, the rocking motion, the memory of Wade's hands on my hips just minutes ago… It all combines into something that makes heat pool low in my belly. I'm getting wet. Actually wet, my panties dampening with each step Daisy takes.
This is mortifying.
I try to shift position subtly, but that just makes it worse. The seam of my jeans presses exactly where I don't need any more stimulation, and I bite back a sound that would definitely give me away.
I need to focus. I’m learning to ride a horse.
A *horse*. Not thinking about Wade Turner's rough hands.
Not wondering what those hands would feel like sliding up my thighs, exploring the curves of my body that I've always been self-conscious about.
Not imagining his fingers digging into the soft flesh of my hips as he—
"You're tensing up," Wade calls. "Relax your shoulders."
Right. Relaxing. I can do that. Except I can't, because now I'm thinking about his voice. That deep, rough growl when he told me to adjust my posture. Would he sound like that in bed? Commanding and sure, telling me exactly what to do?
Or would he be gentle? Would those hard eyes soften, those rough hands turn tender? Would he worship my body the way I've never let anyone do, kissing every inch of skin I've spent years feeling ashamed of?
My thighs are literally trembling now, and it has nothing to do with the effort of riding.
I wonder if he's ever touched a woman like me. Someone with extra curves, with soft stomach and thick thighs and breasts that are definitely more than a handful. Would he be disgusted? Would he compare me to whatever type of woman he usually—
"Sierra, watch your—"
The reins slip from my hands. I realize it too late, grabbing for them and throwing my weight forward. Daisy sidesteps, startled, and suddenly I'm sliding. The world tilts, and I'm falling, the ground rushing up to meet me.
I hit hard, landing on my side. Pain shoots through my ankle as it twists beneath me, and I cry out. Above me, Daisy dances nervously, and through the haze of pain I see her hoof coming down toward my head—
Then Wade's there. He literally throws himself between me and the horse, one arm wrapping around me while the other pushes Daisy back. "Whoa, girl. Easy. Easy."
Daisy settles, moving away, and Wade's full attention turns to me. His face is pale, eyes wide with something that looks like fear.
"Sierra. Talk to me. Are you okay? Did she step on you?"
My heart is hammering so hard I think it might break through my ribs. I could have died. That hoof could have crushed my skull, could have—
"I'm okay," I manage, but my voice shakes. "My ankle. I twisted it."
"Fuck." Wade's hands are already moving over me, checking for other injuries. "Anything else hurt? Your head, your back?"
"No. Just the ankle. And my pride." I try to laugh, but it comes out shaky. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I got distracted and—"
"Don't apologize. Just don't move." He's cradling me against his chest now, and I realize I'm shaking. Full-body tremors I can't control. "You're okay. I've got you."
He holds me like that for a long moment, one hand stroking my hair, murmuring reassurance. Slowly, my heart rate returns to something approaching normal.
"Let me look at that ankle," Wade finally says, gently shifting me so he can examine my foot.
His fingers are surprisingly gentle as they probe the swollen joint. I wince, and he immediately lightens his touch.
"It's swollen but I don't think it's broken or badly sprained. Probably just twisted." He looks up at me, and there's guilt written across his face. "I should have been more careful. Should have kept you on a lead line for the first lesson."
"It wasn't your fault. I got distracted."
"By what?"
*By imagining your hands all over me. By wondering what you'd look like naked. By getting so turned on I literally couldn't focus on basic motor skills.*
"Just... thinking about everything I need to learn," I lie. "Got overwhelmed."
He stares at me for a moment like he doesn't quite believe me, but doesn't push. "Can you stand?"
I try, putting weight on the injured ankle, and immediately gasp. "No. Fuck. No, I can't."
"Okay. Don't try to walk on it. You need ice and rest." He runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. "Which means you're out of commission for today. Maybe tomorrow too, depending on how it swells."
"No!" The word comes out too loud, too desperate. "Wade, I can still—"
"You can still rest and let it heal," he says firmly. "Pushing through an injury is stupid, and I thought you were smarter than that."
Tears sting my eyes, and I'm furious with myself. Things were going so well. We were actually connecting, actually building something. And now he's going to think I'm weak. Fragile. Another city girl who can't handle ranch life.
"I'm sorry," I say again, and I hate how my voice cracks. "I really wanted to prove I could do this."
Wade's expression softens. "Sierra. For a first time, you did great. Better than great, actually. I've known people who fell off three times in their first lesson and refused to get back on. You made it twenty minutes and only fell because you got distracted, not because you couldn't handle it."
"Really?"
"Really." He sits back on his heels, considering me.
"Have you ever thought about teaching people? Like, offering riding lessons as part of the ranch?" I ask him.
The question catches him off guard. "What?"
"We should diversify income streams. Riding lessons could be good money, especially for tourists or families in town. We've got the horses, the space, the knowledge."
He glances away. "I've thought about it before. But it feels like... selling out. Turning the ranch into some kind of tourist attraction."
"There's nothing sellout about it," I say immediately.
"You'd be sharing your love for horses and ranching with people.
Teaching them to respect animals and land.
Those people could then share that appreciation with others, creating a ripple effect.
" I shift slightly, wincing as my ankle protests.
"Why do you want to keep the ranch you love only for yourself? "
He's quiet for a long moment, staring at the arena dirt. "I'm afraid people won't get it. They'll see it as something funny to do once, then leave and never return. Like we're just entertainment instead of... instead of what we actually are."
"Which is?"
"A real working ranch. A legacy. A—" He rubs his temples.
"After my dad left, my mom and this ranch were the only things I had.
The only things that mattered. And I'm terrified of losing them.
Of turning this place into something cheap and commercial and losing what made it special in the first place. "
The raw vulnerability in his voice makes my chest ache. "Wade. I'm not going anywhere. And we're going to rebuild this ranch back to its glory without losing its essence. I promise you that."
"You know what? I'm very close to believing you."
I laugh despite the pain in my ankle. "I'm taking that as a victory."
"You should." He stands, then looks down at me. "Can I carry you to the guest house? You shouldn't be walking on that ankle."
My face heats. "Carry me how?"
"However you prefer. You can go on my back, or I can just carry you in my arms. Your choice."
The thought of being that close to him, of feeling his strength firsthand, makes my pulse spike. But I also feel ridiculous, like some damsel in distress who can't take care of herself.
"You don't have to—"
"Sierra." His voice is gentle but firm. "Let me help you."
"Okay. In your arms, I guess."
He bends down, and then I'm being scooped up like I weigh nothing. His arms are solid beneath me, muscles flexing as he adjusts his grip. One arm under my knees, the other supporting my back. I'm pressed against his chest, can feel his heart beating steady and strong.
I glance around nervously as he carries me out of the arena, praying no one sees us. I must look like an idiot. Some lost princess being carried by her handsome, rugged prince. The guys will never let us live this down.
But God, it feels good to be held like this. To feel small and protected despite my extra pounds. Wade doesn't seem bothered by my weight at all, carrying me easily toward the guest house.
"You good?" he asks, glancing down at me.
"Yeah. This is just embarrassing."
"Why? You're injured. I'm helping. Nothing embarrassing about that."
"I feel like I'm failing some kind of test."
"The only test was whether you'd show up and try. You did. You passed." His arms tighten slightly around me. "Stop being so hard on yourself."
We reach the guest house, and Wade manages to open the door while still holding me. He carries me straight to the bedroom and gently lays me on the bed.
"I'll get ice," he says, starting to turn away.
"Wait." The word escapes before I can think better of it. "Can you... can you stay for a minute?"
He hesitates, then sits on the very edge of the bed, as far from me as possible while still technically sitting.
"Why are you sitting so far away?" I ask, confused. "Am I... do I smell or something?"
"What? No. I just—" He stops, and I watch his hands tremble slightly before he clenches them into fists. "It's nothing."
"Wade. You're literally shaking. That's not nothing."