Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
OLIVIA
I push open my car door and sputter out a cough from the cloud of dust that surrounds me, an embarrassing beacon of my sudden arrival. My nerves quickly tip from moderate to severe as I risk a glance to the crowd of people and horses collected out past the large white house in front of me, next to a matching structure I’m guessing is a barn.
In an impulsive fit of Rhett-induced bravery, I found myself driving here, probably the one place in Saddlebrook Falls I’ve never actually been, and now that I’ve made it, I’m questioning my own sanity.
If it weren’t for the fanfare of my arrival, I’d quietly slip back into the car and turn right around. As it stands, nearly every pair of eyes is on me, so I know there’s no going back. I may have made a monumental mistake in showing up here without so much as a heads-up, but I have to see it through.
Tucking my ring of keys into the front pocket of my jeans, I keep my head down as I make the climb up the worn path that cuts from the drive to the side of the house and beyond. The house itself is something out of a storybook, with its beautiful front columns and wraparound porch. The shrubs that flank either side of the front walk bear no flowers this time of year, but I can only imagine the colorful bulbs of various species that will adorn them come spring.
A tire swing hangs from a massive tree to the right, the long sweeping branches shading much of the ground against the high sun. A long wooden fence stretches far into the distance, separating the yard around the house and the corral up ahead from the wild land on the other side. I wonder how far the ranch goes—it seems endless in every direction except the one I came from.
For a place wrapped up in so much town lore, it’s not at all as scary as I once thought it might be. Quite the opposite: it feels like a well-loved home .
I take a deep breath, inhaling the scents of grass and horse and wet dust, and force my gaze toward the group ahead. My eyes immediately land on Rhett, his face twisted in confusion beneath his black cowboy hat, and I force a smile. “Hey!” I call out.
He’s walking toward me, and the tips of his boots graze mine in only a handful of heartbeats. “Olivia?” he says, like he’s not sure if I’m really here.
“I’m so sorry,” I rush to say. “This sounded like such a good idea in my head and now I realize how intrusive it is for me to just show up here like this?—”
“Are you okay?” he cuts in, carefully scanning me up and down in that way that he does, like he’s looking for a reason I might need him. Like he’s ready to take aim at whatever spills out of my mouth.
“I’m fine,” I assure him. “Thanks for getting me home last night. For . . . staying.”
His eyes soften, a smile playing on his lips. “How are you feeling?”
“Great,” I say. “I got your note.”
He balances his weight evenly on both feet, crossing his strong arms over his chest. Unlike most of the others behind him, he doesn’t wear a jacket, and my eyes trace along the corded muscles of his forearm. “Yeah?”
I nod. “You said to be brave. So I . . . I guess I thought I’d come here and see what you were doing today.” My gaze flits back to the horses behind him. “But you’re obviously busy—I really didn’t mean to interfere with your work or anything.”
He tilts his head and looks at me, as if seeing me for the first time. “You wanted to see what I was doing?” That smile keeps playing on his lips, a secret that burns somewhere in the space between us.
“Yes.” Another wave of embarrassment nearly pulls me under.
He turns to look at his brothers and I follow suit. Wells is curious beneath his dirty backward hat, not all that different from the way he looked at the bar last night. Kasey’s expression is a little harder to read, but something tells me he’s not happy about me being here.
Rhett pivots to face me again, his smile widening in a way that says fuck it . “It’s farrier day,” he says, like I know what that means. When I don’t say anything, a quiet chuckle escapes him and he tilts his head toward the barn. “Come on.”
* * *
Farrier day, it turns out, is fun .
Between the whinnying horses, the hammering of steel, the smell of the forge burning, and the music that plays from an old-school stereo perched on a trailer bed, it’s a coordinated dance of overstimulation that feels comforting in a way only the café has ever felt. I slip right into the rhythm and movement of it, focused on every quiet instruction Rhett gives me as I give the horses a wide berth.
I’ve never been this close to such a large animal, but everyone else here looks like they’ve been handling them their whole lives. Even Rhett’s nephew—Liam, I soon learn—collects them from where they wait in the corral and guides them confidently to the farrier for new shoes.
I’m not exactly surprised to find Layla Hayes here. Not after learning she moved onto the ranch with Wells after coming home from NYU last year—a piece of gossip that swirled through the café with a level of gusto I hadn’t seen since the town gazebo burned down. But it does surprise me to see an honest glimpse of what ranch life is like for her, the way she happily chases the smallest boy around in well-used boots stitched with yellow flowers.
When Layla and Wells started dating so soon after the tragic death of her years-long boyfriend (and Wells’s best friend) Jason Moore, it was like the threat people believe the Bennetts’ wield became stronger. As if Wells had somehow worked some conspiratorial outlaw magic to snare Layla to him. Nosey Maeve, in particular, presented new warnings to any single woman in town: stay away from a Bennett man or they’ll bound your life to theirs on this ranch.
Rumors of all the illegal things the Bennetts are up to out here have been as cemented in our history as every important town tradition. But to be here now, to see an honest day’s work playing out right in front of me, I have a hard time believing anything nefarious is actually happening.
Eventually, Rhett is pulled away by a blonde woman with the farrier’s logo embroidered on her polo, and I hang back with Liam. I’ve definitely noticed the way the woman has kept a hungry blue eye on Rhett all afternoon, so it’s hard to fight the urge to watch him with her now.
But every time I give in, I find him focused on the horse in front of him, or on a clipboard that gets passed around, or on his quick conversations with Hank and the team working in tandem with each other.
It’s hours before the last horse is finished, when everyone lets out a collective whoop and claps, and I can’t absorb the feeling of it fast enough. I’m sweat-slicked and dusty, but I feel like I was a part of something real. Something important.
Rhett makes his way toward me, his black collared work shirt ripe with sweat and just as dusty. His face is flushed, hot and bright, like he’s wrangled the sun and swallowed it whole. Liquid pools of silver hook into my marrow and tug me toward him.
“Hey,” he drawls, the low rumble of it like the engine of his bike. I want to feel the shape of his voice vibrate against my skin.
“Hi,” I say back. A chilly breeze winds between us, cooling the skin on my face, but the heat of the day still smolders beneath my jacket.
“Rhett,” Kasey calls from outside the barn. “You got Champ?”
He turns and nods with a silent thumbs-up, and Kasey disappears back into the depths of the barn. I look at the lone horse left in the corral, his golden back stretching wide beneath the late afternoon sun. “Can I help?” I ask.
Rhett gives me that slow smile that I’m growing more and more addicted to and dips his chin toward his chest in a nod. “You confident enough to lead him in yourself?”
I look at the horse again, taking in the depths of his dark eyes. His hair is near-white, the opposite of Rhett’s coloring in almost every way. I’m tempted to ask if the horse is nice—some of them today were pretty resistant to being handled—but I have a feeling Rhett wouldn’t ask if this could turn dangerous.
Then again, everything about Rhett always feels a little dangerous.
I push open the wooden gate into the corral and slowly walk toward the horse, careful to stay in his line of sight so I don’t spook him. “Hey, Champ,” I murmur. “I’m just going to bring you back inside, okay?”
The horse chuffs.
When I get close enough, I offer out my hand for him to sniff. He leans his head forward and brushes his nose along my fingers before straightening again with a regal posture. I smile, taking another step forward to glide my hand over his shoulder. “Good boy,” I whisper.
Once I’m sure he’s not going to attack me with his teeth or squish me with the sheer force of his muscle, I grab hold of the rope slung over his back and turn toward Rhett. To my surprise, Champ takes two sure steps, edging closer to my side.
We walk together back through the corral, to where Rhett waits at the open gate. “He goes to the second barn.” He points to the twin white building that stands about ten yards beyond the first, and I steer Champ toward it. Rhett closes the gate behind me and then trails closely behind, but he doesn’t intervene or give any further direction.
When we approach the second barn, Rhett jogs ahead and opens the last stall gate on the right. I guide Champ toward it, and he eases himself in without any drama. I watch with rapt focus as Rhett removes the lead rope and bridle, leaving Champ’s face bare before us. “He’s beautiful,” I say, awed.
Rhett angles his attention on me. “So are you.”
I whip my head to look at him.
The right side of his mouth lifts. “Your bravery,” he explains, though for what I’m not sure. For leading Champ? For being here at all? “It looks good on you.”
My cheeks heat with a burning eagerness that, until now, I’ve really only felt with crushes back in school. But even that doesn’t hold a candle to the way this spears into me like a sharp craving, a need to feel Rhett’s hands on me again. To feel his body pressed against mine the way it was last night. Which . . . is a problem, considering I specifically told him sex was off the table.
I think of the way the gorgeous farrier-in-training looked at him, the way it felt like she knows him in ways that I don’t, and I can’t help the question from spilling out of my traitorous mouth. “Do you sleep with the staff around here often?”
Rhett’s eyes widen in utter surprise, his mouth parting and rounding like he wants to rebuke my words. But then his lips press together and his eyes shine with a new wave of curiosity. “Are you jealous , peaches?”
“No.” I shake my head dumbly, like a petulant child.
But then my mind spins, picturing him meeting her later. Giving her the kind of date that I suddenly want to beg for.
He grins as he shifts to lean a shoulder against the stall wall. Champ’s long face pokes over the gate, nose ruffling Rhett’s waves beneath his hat.
“No,” I say again. Firmer.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he orders. Calmly. Like he’s requesting my middle name.
My own stubborn hackles rise to meet his and I decide to push back. “I was considering whether I’d made a mistake.”
“A mistake?”
“In keeping sex off the table.”
Satisfaction swells at the way Rhett’s jaw sinks toward the ground, a fumbled “ Jesus ” leaving his gaping mouth.
“You wanted to help me, right?”
And there it is: his hunger. The storm of it engulfing the gray of his irises. “Olivia.”
“So I was thinking,” I continue, “that maybe you could.”
His eyes are dark with intent, focused on my lips. “Help you with what?” he asks, urgent, his voice husky and shapeless in the way it moves through my skin and bones.
“Maybe you could teach me,” I whisper, not quite sure of myself or this thing ricocheting between us.
He hangs his head, eyes squeezing shut. I’ve unarmed him. Stunned him, even. It captivates me, makes me feel like I’m floating.
A smile ghosts his lips when he lifts his face again. “Teach you?”
I nod. “Yeah. I mean, you’re a . . . man,” I say, not so expertly. “And you know what men like. So teach me. Teach me how to be what men want.”
A low laugh vibrates out of him, amusement sparking in his eyes. “As profound as that idea might be, I don’t think I should be the one teaching you what men want.”
I narrow my eyes. “What does that mean?”
“I’m just saying. The kind of guy you’d want to have like that . . . I doubt he’d share my tastes.”
My cheeks are radiating heat. “The kind of . . . I’m not sure what that means,” I say haughtily. And then I take a breath. “Look, I just . . . I missed most of the fun part of being young. Being reckless and messy and naive and . . . I want to get some of that back before it’s too late. Sex should have always been on the table.” It’s not the whole truth, but it’s the first time I’ve let myself admit out loud all the things I’ve been starving for.
Any trace of humor is gone from Rhett’s expression, but he doesn’t say a word as he waits for me to go on. “I want to be messy, Rhett. I don’t want to be careful. I want to have stories to tell someday, because right now, I feel like I have nothing of my own.”
He lets out a slow breath, looking back down at the floor between us. Like I might burn him alive if he keeps looking at me. “I get it.” He nods. “I do. But I’m a whole ’nother level of messy, peaches. And I’m a little worried it’ll be too much for you.”
I scoff, rolling my eyes. “I’m not scared of you.” His eyes flare at my blunt response. “All I’m asking is for you to teach me how to be desirable. How to please a man.”
He rubs the scruff of his chin with the back of his knuckles before he shakes his head. “I can’t teach you how to be desirable,” he says firmly.
“Why not?” I ask, thankfully only vaguely aware of how desperate it makes me sound. But it isn’t desperation I’m feeling.
Something on his face changes, sharpens, as if he’s considering something. And suddenly I am desperate—desperate to know what he’s thinking, if there’s a chance he might actually say yes. I’m about to ask again when he takes a step toward me, moving until he’s crowding into my space and pushing me back against the wall.
His broad chest brushes against mine, and my stomach somersaults from the feel of it. Two pale gray eyes move across my face as he leans in closer . . . so close I think he might be about to kiss me. My heart fully stops beating as I brace myself for it, praying to god my breath is still fresh enough from the mint I had hours ago.
He’s close enough now that his nose lightly grazes mine, eyes caught somewhere on my mouth or my jaw, but he stops.
“I can’t teach you somethin’ you already know,” he rasps. “You asking to be desirable is like asking how to fucking walk. You are already masterful. Trust me.”
I close my eyes at the feel of him so close to me. “You think I’m desirable?” I ask through a shaky breath. Want scuttles up my spine as my stomach swoops.
A low sound escapes him, raw and grating. “Yeah, peaches,” he admits. “You could say that.” His eyes drop to my mouth and flare. “But you’re asking for the wrong things.”
I swallow down my nerves. “I am?”
He nods. “You shouldn’t be asking how to please a man. You should be asking how a man could please you .”
I nod once, mind going blank as I watch his pupils dilate, and I decide to take the bait. “How can you please me, Rhett?”
He groans and reaches a hand out, covering my throat. His thick fingers are warm as they flex around me, but the pressure is light. “You have no fucking idea how much I want to please you.”
Something hot lurches in my stomach.
He takes another step into my space, forcing me to move backward against the hard, wooden wall, crowding me with that broad chest. When he lifts the tangle of rope in his hand, the end of it traces up my arm and I shiver. “Tell me to stop,” he murmurs.
I shake my head, defiant. But I don’t trust myself to speak.
He clicks his tongue. “You can’t possibly want this, peaches.”
“I do,” I argue, eyes tracing the curl of dark hair against his temple, leaning into the foreign feel of his hand wrapped around my neck.
His mouth bends into a grin that shines right into my chest. Our eyes lock, and I feel my breathing shift as my heart pounds. He simply looks at me. Studies me. And it leaves me feeling so exposed I’m sure my clothes have caught fire and burned to ash.
“You want this?” he drawls in a voice like velvet, his smile turning wicked. “Now you’re going to get it. But not here . . . let me take you somewhere.”
It’s a threat that snakes around my consciousness, tangling with hope. When I nod, he leans in to brush a soft kiss to my cheek. And then he steps away, pulling his hands off my body.
The loss of him nearly sinks me to my knees.
I nod as I brace myself with a hand against the wall behind me, eager to go wherever he’ll take me. Eager to get more of this . My body feels hollow, void, without him. “Yes,” I sputter out. “Please.”
His eyes darken, the shadow of a sharp blade. He closes them briefly as if to steady himself. “ Fuck ,” he mumbles, and my heart gallops. When he looks at me again, there’s a promise in the way his eyes hold mine. One that I grip onto for dear life. “Let’s go.”