Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Daisy
The gravel road that leads to the barns at the Swift ranch is littered with vehicles.
There are lights strung around the currently empty hay barn, and people are flowing in and out of it.
Getting out of my truck, party music hits my ears, and I can’t help but wonder what exactly Owen has invited me to.
Something tells me that whatever’s going on across the field was not part of his plan.
I’m glad I wore boots, because I’ve got a hundred and fifty-yard walk to where I assume Owen is waiting for me with my gift. Whatever that might be?
When I originally agreed to meet him here, there wasn’t a dress code, and we weren’t going for a ride forty minutes before sunset.
Now, the evening sounds like the perfect setting for a romantic date.
I should have come up with an excuse not to come.
And I certainly shouldn’t be feeling butterflies in my stomach with each step that brings me closer to him.
But here I am.
On a Saturday night.
At Owen’s happy place.
Like Cal goes to our ranch to ride when something is bothering him, Owen does the same.
This is where he comes to think. To punish himself when he’s getting over a hangover.
To relax after a long work week. Riding at his family ranch soothes Owen’s soul.
He lost his father a couple of years before I lost mine.
I think being here makes him feel closer to his dad.
The fluttering in my stomach increases when I see a handsome cowboy leaning against the open barn door, arms crossed over his chest, his straw hat shading his eyes from the sun so he can track me as I make my way to him.
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” he says as he pushes off the barn, sauntering my way.
“You invited me to a barn party, Swift?”
“Not exactly. Livvy threw what is apparently her annual end of summer party, but since I wasn’t invited, I’m just as surprised as you are.”
His little sister, Olivia, who is ten years Owen’s junior, still lives at home and works at our family store, McKinnon Hardware & Lumber. She’s in her mid-twenties but hasn’t really grown up yet.
He takes me by the hand, lacing his fingers with mine as though it’s something we always do. I like the way it feels too much to worry whether the twenty-somethings across the field notice. Instead, I allow myself to enjoy the moment.
There are two saddled horses waiting in the middle of the barn. Owen’s beautiful quarter-horse Blue is patiently waiting. So is Shadow, a sleek black mare I’ve ridden in the past. She must be who I’m riding tonight.
“Close your eyes,” he requests a bit more seriously than I’m used to when we’re out in the world and not hidden away under the sheets.
“You better keep your clothes on.”
“That’s not what tonight is about. But don’t act like you wouldn’t like me to bend you over that hay bale and give you my cock as a gift.”
He’s right. That sounds perfect.
“Get over yourself.”
“You like me just the way I am. Now, please close your eyes.”
Since the hay bale is out of the question, I close my eyes. “They’re closed,” I huff.
He lets go of my hand and moves behind me.
Pressing his chest against my back, he slides his hands down my arms until he has both my hands in his, walking us the three steps that were between me and Shadow.
He lifts my hands, placing them on the saddle, separating my fingers until my palms lie flat against the smooth, supple leather.
The earthy smell, nostalgic and welcome.
He wraps his arms around my middle, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Open.”
I’ve never felt so content. Being in his arms like this is all I want from him. I don’t want to open my eyes, because then the moment will be over.
When I do finally peel open my eyes, I’m looking at my hands on Shadow’s saddle, but I don’t understand. He’s not giving me his sister's horse. Is he?
“I’m confused.”
“The saddle. I made it for you.”
“You what?”
With him still wrapped around me and his chin on my shoulder, I glide my fingertips over the magnificent piece of leather and see what I didn’t notice before.
Daisies. The intricate design comprises endless daisies linked as they outline every piece of the saddle.
The fender, the seat jockey, the skirt..
. Owen masterfully designed every piece.
“Owen, it’s stunning.”
His sigh tickles my ear. “I’m glad you like it. I’ve been working on it for a year now. With work and the team, it took me a little longer than it should have.”
“I can’t believe you did this for me.”
“I’d do anything for you. You know that.”
He would. I know he would. And that scares the shit out of me.
When I don’t reply, he presses a sweet kiss to my cheek. “Let’s go for a ride.” His hands fall to my hips. “Need a boost?”
“Sure,” I say, breathless.
I don’t need his help, but I’m so out of my depth, I don’t know what to do with myself.
Seconds later, he’s in his saddle. “Come on, I wanna show you something.”
“There can’t be more.”
“There can always be more.”
Why does everything he says have a double meaning in regard to our relationship or lack thereof?
“Lead the way.”
When Blue breaks into a trot, Shadow does the same. My saddle is a perfect fit and rides like a dream.
We ride in companionable silence until we reach the top of the meadow, where we stop. I expect him to hop off his horse, but he doesn’t make a move. He rests his hands on the horn of his saddle and tips his hat toward the sky.
“Told you there could always be more,” he says as he looks out at our view.
He made me a masterpiece and took me on a sunset ride.
Owen Swift is romancing me.
I’m so damned screwed.
We settle in and watch the sun set behind the Cascade Mountain Range. When the sun completely disappears, we trot back to the barn, lit by the remaining glow of the evening sky. Our pace is slow and easy. Our shared quiet as comforting as a warm hug.
It isn’t until after we’ve walked the horses to cool them down and are removing their saddles that I speak. “I think this is my best birthday yet.”
“Even if it’s a week and a half late?”
“It was worth the wait and the work you put into it.” I run my fingertips over the leather of the gift he must have spent hours and hours on. “I didn’t know you were so talented. You could charge a fortune for work like this.”
“Thanks. It means a lot that you like it,” he says, almost shyly, like I might not mean it.
“Owen, I more than like it. I love it.”
He nods, and then one by one, carries our saddles into the tack room. After we look the horses over, rinse them off in case something got between the saddles and their bodies and to keep them cool from the still warm, early September heat, we put them in their stalls and make sure they have water.
As we work side by side, he remains uncharacteristically quiet until we’ve finished the chores that come along with a ride as beautiful as the one we were just on.
We may not talk, but we sing along to the songs floating in from the barn party, and to this cowgirl, the quiet work we’re doing together and the silly singing and bopping around is just as romantic as the sunset ride.
We’ve just finished up when a song about dancing in the country comes on and before I know it, he’s swinging me around just like he did at The House the other night.
We’re both grinning from ear to ear. The music is coming from the distance, so his chuckles and my giggles fill the air.
The blink of shyness he exhibited minutes ago is nowhere in sight.
Before the song ends, he pulls me into his arms, and we slow dance to our own rhythm.
As though the universe doesn’t want the night to end, a slow song begins.
He holds on tight, and without a word, we sway as the lyrics sing about risking it all.
Our boots leisurely move over the random pieces of hay decorating the concrete floor.
We’re sticky from the summer heat, and we both smell like we’ve been on a horse, but this moonlit dance is one of the most special moments of my life.
Even in the dim light and shade of his hat, his brilliant blue eyes sparkle, only pausing their inspection of my boring brown eyes the few times he gently spins me in front of him.
But as soon as I’m back in his arms, his gaze locks right back on mine.
We rarely shut up when we’re in each other's orbit, but this quiet moment with only the two of us and a barn full of horses says more than any words ever have.
Something deep in my soul shifts, as though a piece of me has snapped into place for the first time.
My heart is hammering against my chest, and air refuses to fill my lungs.
No. No. No. No. No.
I know what I’m feeling, and it’s the absolute worst-case scenario. It tried to sneak its way in during our weekend in New York. It was silly of me to think I could ignore it.
Just as my panic sets in, the song ends.
Owen presses a kiss to my forehead, and I’m grateful I don’t fall to my knees when he releases me, because I’m shaking from the inside out.
I feel nauseous. My body’s reaction to the fear of the four-letter word my heart so desperately wants to latch on to wreak havoc on my psyche.
It’s a word I need to bury down deep or else I’ll lose what little I have with the handsome cowboy carrying my saddle out of the tack room.
The exquisite piece of art made with his own hands means more to me than a piece of jewelry ever could. Owen is the only man who would know this about me. If I’m being honest with myself, he knows me better than anyone in my life. Better than Mia. Better than my mom.
He knows every side there is to me and still wants me.
All of me.
I can pretend I don’t believe him until the cows come home, but I know him too. And Owen Swift doesn’t say what he doesn’t mean.
He clears his throat, a grin spreading across his face because he’s caught me staring. “How ‘bout we put this in the back of my truck and I give you a ride to yours?”
“That’d be great,” I say, absentmindedly rubbing my fist over my sternum where a certain word ping-pongs all over my heart.
He drives us to my truck and eases the saddle from his vehicle to the back of mine.
Then we stand by my driver’s side door and stare at each other.
It’s like looking in a mirror. Both of us are feeling so much, but neither of us is expressing those feelings to the other.
Not that he hasn’t. It’s me holding back. Like I always do.
Clearing my throat, I muster up what I can. “Owen, thank you doesn’t seem adequate, but since I don’t know what else to say, thank you for the beautiful gift and the gorgeous ride. It was a perfect night.”
“Glad to hear it.” He pulls my door open.
I guess I’m leaving now.
In my feelings over being dismissed, I avoid eye contact with him when I step between the open door and the cab of my truck, but he has no intention of letting me go so easily.
Stepping into my space, one of his hands lands on my hip, holding me in place while the index finger of his free hand tilts my chin up to meet his ocean eyes, and my heart leaps at the prospect of a kiss goodbye.
“Thanks for the dance,” I say, much breathier than I wish I had.
The kiss he presses to my forehead isn’t the kind I was hoping for, but it’s what I needed. My mind, heart, body, and soul are in a whirlwind of emotion. I wouldn’t know what to do with more than his sweet gesture. He promised to give me time after New York. Tonight proves he’s a man of his word.
With a soft pat to one of my denim-clad ass cheeks, he takes a step back.
“Drive safe.”
On autopilot, I climb into my truck and drive away, thinking how the word safe and Owen Swift can never exist in the same sentence for me again.
My heart is anything but safe when I’m in his arms.
Yet, I know I’ll get caught up in his vortex again and again.
And every time it will get harder to drive away from him.