Chapter 7
SLADE
Morgan showed up right before noon. Her car crunched over packed snow as she pulled in next to the barn, and she sat for a few seconds with her hands on the wheel before getting out. Like she was bracing for whatever might happen between us over the next few hours.
She had on new boots that looked way too stiff and way too clean.
At least they were better than the pair she’d almost wiped out in multiple times on the ridge.
She shut her door and lifted her chin in the confident way she always did.
If she was nervous, she looked like she’d rather die than admit it.
I stood by the open door of the covered practice pen. We were safe from the weather in here. It wasn’t pretty, and it damn sure wasn’t a rodeo arena, but it worked.
“So,” she said, one corner of her mouth lifting. “This is where you plan to test the future of Mustang Mountain?”
I snorted. “This is where I figure out whether you can stay upright on the back of my oldest, calmest mare.”
Her brows lifted, but she didn’t back off. “That sounds… reassuring.”
“It should be. She’s smarter than most people I know.”
Morgan nodded. “Then I’ll try not to embarrass myself.”
Something warm wedged into my chest, unexpected and unwelcome. She stepped closer to the fence, her gloved hands resting on the top rail, her attention shifting back to the space around us.
“You really think the land you’re offering can handle thousands of people, trailers, stock trucks, and everything else all at once?”
I studied her for a long moment before answering. She was right to wonder, but I was confident in the plans Dawson and I had put together. “It can if it’s done right.”
“And if it isn’t?”
“Then it’ll be a mess,” I said. “And you’ll get to tell everyone I should’ve listened to you.”
Her mouth curved, softer this time. “I’m not rooting against you, you know.”
I snorted. “Could’ve fooled me.”
Her mouth tightened. “I’m trying to make sure the town doesn’t build something it can’t sustain.”
It was like she thought I wanted to slap together a few boards and call it tradition. I wanted to argue with her, but I started moving toward the door instead. “Then let’s start with the basics. You can’t plan a rodeo if you don’t know what the animals feel like.”
Her gaze shot to the barn a hundred yards away. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you might be right.”
I almost tripped over my own feet as she admitted it but tried to pretend I’d stepped on a hard chunk of ice.
Inside the barn, the air was warmer, heavy with the scent of hay and the quiet rhythm of animals who didn’t give a flying fuck about what the town thought about me or her or anything beyond when they’d get their next meal.
The mare I’d already saddled watched us approach with patient curiosity. She was my sister’s horse who didn’t get enough exercise now that Sidney had moved into her own place with Hayes.
Morgan paused in the doorway. “Looks like you’ve already got everything ready to go.”
“I didn’t want you to have to spend any more time out here than necessary.” I untied the reins then ran a hand over the mare’s neck.
Morgan’s eyes narrowed. “That’s so considerate of you.”
“Don’t get used to it.” I meant the comment as a joke, but the flash of hurt in her eyes made me think she didn’t take it that way.
Before I could say something to fix it, her shoulders squared and she stepped closer to the horse. “What’s his name?” she asked.
“He’s a she and her name is Lollipop.”
“Oh, sorry, girl,” she murmured as she tentatively ran her hand over the mare’s cheek.
I gave a gentle tug on the reins and guided Lollipop toward the mounting block. “All right. Here’s the part where you listen.”
“Got it,” she said.
“You have to listen with your whole body,” I said. “Not just that pretty head you keep trying to outthink me with.”
Her brows shot up. “Pretty head, huh?”
My mouth went dry before my brain caught up. I’d meant for it to come across as sarcastic, not a compliment. But the truth was, Morgan Carter was pretty. No, more than pretty. She was absolutely gorgeous. What the fuck was wrong with me? I almost apologized, then shook my head.
“Put your foot in the stirrup,” I said. “And swing yourself up. Don’t hesitate. That’s how you end up halfway on and all the way embarrassed.”
“I’m not embarrassed easily.”
“Good.” I held onto the reins and braced myself in case Morgan didn’t make it. “Now swing.”
She mounted on the first try. It wasn’t graceful, but it wasn’t a total disaster either. Her body tensed the moment she settled into the saddle like she was preparing herself to be thrown right back off again.
Lollipop stood patiently, like she’d been through worse. That’s why I’d picked her for Morgan’s first ride. She was still and sturdy and wouldn’t freak out if Morgan make a rookie mistake.
I stepped closer and adjusted the angle of Morgan’s boot in the stirrup. I’d guessed right and didn’t have to lower or raise it. She held still while I walked around to the other side and did the same.
“Relax your hips,” I said. “She’ll feel it every time you lock up.”
“I am relaxed,” she said through clenched teeth.
“No, you’re determined.” I looked up at her. “There’s a difference.”
Her jaw flexed. Then, slowly, she let out a breath. Her shoulders eased a fraction. Lollipop shifted, then settled again.
“That’s better,” I said.
Her gaze narrowed. “You sure seem to enjoy telling people what to do.”
“Only when they need it.”
The look she gave me made it clear she had opinions about that.
I grinned as I swung into the saddle of my favorite ranch horse, Snickers, and encouraged him to move forward. “Go on. Give her a little nudge with your heels.”
Morgan clicked her tongue, awkward at first, then steadier as the mare moved.
She wasn’t a natural. But she wasn’t hopeless either.
It actually pissed me off a little, how quickly she adapted.
I could see it already… she’d show up, keep her spine straight through every sideways comment and suspicious glance until the town didn’t have a choice but to take her seriously.
The same town that still treated her like a temporary inconvenience.
The same town that would hate being proven wrong.
I wasn’t sure I hated it more or less than I hated the fact I wanted to see her win.
We stayed in the pen long enough for her to understand how to stop, turn, and keep from holding the reins in a death grip. Once she’d found a rhythm, I paused by the gate.
“Looks like you’re ready to head out into the big, wide world. Do you want to give it a try?” I asked.
The way her eyes lit up was genuine. She was enjoying this and wasn’t even trying to hide it. “If you think I’m ready.”
I opened the gate and led her through it. “We won’t go far.”
“Okay, then. Lead the way.”
We rode along the lower ridge where the trees offered cover from the worst of the wind. Snow that had melted and refroze crusted over the packed trail. The sky was cloudy, but the sun shone through, making it hard to believe we were supposed to get another storm overnight.
We rode in silence for a few minutes. Morgan’s shoulders were still tense, but she looked a little more comfortable in the saddle.
“You’re handling her better,” I said.
She glanced over, surprised. “Was that a compliment?”
“Hey, don’t get cocky. It’s only an observation,” I teased. Truth was, she’d taken to riding a hell of a lot faster than I figured she would.
She rewarded my words with a smile that made the bottom drop out of my stomach. No matter how much I resented her presence, Morgan Carter was gorgeous. And when I got a glimpse of the woman behind the layers of armor, it made me wish we were on the same side.
We rounded a bend where the trail narrowed and the trees thinned. The wind hit a little harder, cutting across the open stretch like it wanted to push us back and keep us from going any farther. Snickers moved forward, even as a branch cracked above us. Then snow dumped in a sudden rush.
Lollipop startled. It wasn’t bad. Not at first. She jumped sideways, a quick spook, the kind of reaction most riders corrected without thinking.
But Morgan wasn’t most riders. She immediately tensed up and yanked the reins.
That was a mistake. The mare’s head came up.
Her entire body tightened. And then she bolted.
“Damn it,” I bit out, already kicking my own horse into motion.
Somehow Morgan was able to stay in the saddle. That was the first thing I registered. She didn’t scream or panic. She grabbed at the saddle horn with one hand and held the reins with the other, her eyes wide but focused, like her pride wouldn’t let her fall even if her body wanted to.
Lollipop tore down the trail, hooves pounding, snow flying behind her. I pushed my horse hard but kept him under control and cut through a stand of trees so I could catch up.
The chase went on for a few minutes, and by the time I caught up, Lollipop had slowed enough to catch her breath. Morgan was still locked tight in the saddle, her body as rigid as a fence post.
I came alongside and reached for the reins, careful not to spook either the horse or Morgan any further. “Morgan,” I called, my voice low. “Look at me.”
Her gaze snapped to mine.
“Breathe,” I said. “You’re going to be okay. I’ve got you.”
She drew in a shaky breath. Then another. Her shoulders eased a fraction, and the mare responded immediately, slowing when she felt her loosen. That’s what people didn’t understand. Riding a horse wasn’t about control. It was about communication.
I brought Lollipop to a stop and dismounted, moving in close.
“Get down,” I ordered.
Morgan’s eyes flared. “I’m fine.”
“No.” I stepped closer and put my hand on her calf. “You’re not fine. Get down.”
Her lips trembled, giving her away. She swung her leg over, awkward and stiff. I reached up and caught her, wrapping my hands around her waist as she slid down the rest of the way. When her boots hit the ground, she swayed toward me.
I kept my hands on her longer than necessary, telling myself I was only steadying her until she was stable. Her breath hitched. Mine did too.
“Are you okay?” I forced myself to sound calm even though the thought of her getting hurt sent my pulse into overdrive.
She swallowed. “I think so.”
Her cheeks were flushed from cold and the rush of adrenaline, and somewhere along the way she’d lost the knit beanie that had been keeping her hair under control. She looked alive in a way that made my chest tighten.
“Good,” I muttered as I turned toward the sky.
In the space of a few short minutes, cloud cover had rolled in low and fast. It wasn’t the slow drift the forecast had promised. It was a wall of dark gray clouds, and it was headed our way.
“The storm’s coming,” I said.
Morgan followed my gaze, her eyes narrowing. “Already? I checked the weather this morning and they said we wouldn’t get snow until overnight.”
“I wish I could get paid for doing a job where I didn’t have to be right all the time.” The joke didn’t land, not with Morgan’s pulse still hammering from her wild ride.
Her voice tightened. “Can we get back?”
I took into account how far we’d traveled away from the barn, the trail conditions, and the way the temperature had dropped in the last ten minutes.
“No,” I said.
Her head jerked up. “What do you mean ‘no’?”
“There’s a cabin not that far away. We can wait out the storm there.” I nudged my chin toward Snickers. “You can ride with me. I’m not taking any more chances.”
Her lips tightened like she wanted to argue, but another gust of wind hit. Snow started to fall. The storm was already here.
“Okay, let’s get go.” She didn’t flinch when I put my hands on her hips and helped her into the saddle.
I pulled a lead out of my saddle bag and joined the two horses so the mare wouldn’t get lost. She would have followed us anyway. All the tension had drained out of her after that run, but I wasn’t willing to risk it if she got spooked again.
Morgan didn’t flinch as I pulled myself up and settled behind her, my thighs squeezing against hers.
And when I reached around her with both arms to pick up the reins, she seemed to shed a little of the tension and lean back against me.
She didn’t complain or ask how far we were going to go.
Didn’t do anything that made me question whether she was built for this.
Which only made me more aware of her and more irritated with myself for noticing.
I wasn’t sure how long we rode. Even a few minutes in whiteout conditions could feel like an hour, but the cabin finally came into view. It was small and weathered with an attached lean-to for the horses.
I shoved the door open with my shoulder, ushered her inside, then dragged it shut against the wind. The sudden quiet was more jarring than facing the storm. Inside, it was cold but sheltered. The air smelled like old wood and dust and the faint memory of smoke.
Morgan turned slowly, taking it in: the folding table, two chairs, a small stove in the corner, and the narrow cot against the back wall. Her gaze snagged on the thin mattress, then shifted back to me.
I caught the change in her expression. Her professional assessment turned into something else. Something a hell of a lot more personal.
“No,” she said, her voice tight. “Absolutely not.”
I raised a brow. “You’d prefer staying out in the storm?”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
I shook snow from my coat. “We’ll figure it out.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You say that like you’ve done this before.”
“I have.” I looked at her. “Just not with you.” The words hung in the air between us, not at all like I’d intended.
Morgan’s breath caught. Then she lifted her chin again, stubborn to the bone. “Fine. But I’m not freezing to death for your ego.”
“My ego isn’t the problem,” I said.
She stared at me, daring me to finish.
I didn’t. Instead I crossed to the stove, crouched, and started checking for kindling the way I’d done a hundred times in bad weather.
I needed to tackle one issue at a time and keep my focus on making sure we survived the storm.
Because if I let myself focus on the fact Morgan Carter was standing in front of me in a tiny cabin with nowhere to go and nowhere to hide, I might do something stupid.
Outside, the wind slammed into the cabin again, rattling the windows like it was pissed we’d found shelter.
Inside, Morgan wrapped her arms around herself and watched me with those sharp, unyielding eyes.
We were out of time and out of options and weren’t going anywhere for the foreseeable future. The mountain had made that much clear.