Chapter 16 #2
I’ve known some cowboys that didn’t want to believe it, but mares are almost always the leaders of the herd. They give direction, guard resources, and will often kick the ass of anyone stepping out of line.
Holding my hands up, I step between Isaac and the mustang, blow out a loud breath and tilt my head toward the trailer.
“She’ll be back,” I call out to the enormous animal. “We’ll bring her back when she’s better.”
He blows again. Less aggressive this time.
I blow back in similar fashion because I know in my heart, he’s intelligent enough to understand.
There’s a moment of perfect stillness where he looks into my eyes, and I stare into his. Try to will him to understand we don’t mean the mare any harm.
He turns slowly and returns to his herd.
Isaac exhales heavily from behind me. “So, your ability to command men is a cross-mammal affliction as well, I see.”
I’m about to smile at him when I meet his stare and it’s even more intense than the mustang’s.
The weight of it is heavy and dangerous because I can’t break it.
I’m in trouble.
Big, blond, sexy pilot-cowboy trouble.
“Lucky for you,” I say.
As we make our way back toward the plane, I swear I hear him mutter, “don’t I know it.”
By the time we land, the adrenaline is fading from my limbs like water slipping through my fingers.
It’s been a long day, and I haven’t had time to eat much.
Isaac drives me to my cabin but lingers before he leaves. The sky above us has softened into twilight. A few stars beginning to make their evening appearance. Isaac leans against the fender of his truck, flexing his hand like he’s trying to pretend it doesn’t hurt.
“You’re bleeding,” I say, quickly digging for a first aid kit in the back of the truck.
“It’s nothing.” He shifts his stance but doesn’t argue when I motion for him to sit on the porch.
He does, the swing groaning in protest beneath him. “Just a scrape.”
“Scrape or not,” I murmur, lowering myself beside him and tugging his hand gently into mine, “We should clean it.”
His skin is warm and rough beneath my fingers.
I pour antiseptic over the angry-looking cut and watch him wince, but he doesn’t pull away.
His knuckles are raw, probably from the gate or maybe the reins.
Either way, he looks like hell and heaven all at once—golden hair mussed, dirt smeared along his jaw, and those damn green eyes watching me like they do when he thinks no one is looking.
“I’ve never seen anyone fly a plane up close before,” I say quietly, trying not to lose myself in the weight of him.
He shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t take many passengers.”
I press gauze to his skin. “That supposed to make me feel special?”
He chuckles, and it rumbles right through me. “If the night we met didn’t, I doubt a plane ride will.”
I glance up. His gaze is locked on mine. Not playful now. Steady. Sincere. Like he’s seeing right through the armor I keep in place to keep people from seeing the real me.
I do my best to lighten the mood. “Aww. Was that your first time, cowboy?”
His stare presses into me. “It was the first time anything felt like that. And I think you already know you’re special.” His voice lowers, softens. “Honestly, I’ve been trying pretty hard not to say a lot of things. But it seems like you hear them anyway.”
I say nothing. But I get it.
I may never understand how my family, who I’ve known my entire life, doesn’t seem to get me. But this man who barely knows me has been able to read me from day one.
He doesn’t say anything else for a long beat. Just watches as I tape the gauze down over his wound.
The air between us stills. He reaches out and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear with the same touch he used on that injured horse—gentle, reverent. Like I might bolt if he’s not careful.
“Woman of many talents. You’re good at this too,” he says, gesturing to his bandaged hand.
Something thick swells in my chest.
I nod toward my work. “All done. I think you’ll be okay.”
He leans closer, breath brushing my cheek. “Will I?”
It’s teasing, but barely. There’s something else in his voice now. Need. I recognize it because I’m fighting it every time he’s around.
Before I can respond, a soft breeze kicks up, and the smell of horses and leather and warm skin surrounds me. I want to lean in. Want to press my lips to his. Want to feel him inside me again.
Instead, I stand and turn toward the door. “I should get inside. It’s getting late.”
He stands too, but not before sliding his palm across the small of my back in a slow, familiar touch that stops me where I stand.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” he says quietly.
I only stare up at him, waiting for whatever sensitive spot of mine he’s about to uncover next.
His green eyes are sharp, searching. “Why acting? You’re a natural with horses. You calmed that mustang before Colter could even blink. You a wild horse whisper in your free time?”
I laugh, but it catches in my throat. “No. Not really. Maybe in a past life.”
He smirks. “You’re good—like could do this for a living good. But I guess being a movie star pays better, huh?”
I look down at my hands. “It’s not that I don’t love this. I do. Horses will always feel like home.”
“Then why leave it behind?”
“Because I had to.” My voice is steady, but my chest tightens. “Growing up, we didn’t have much. I was an only child so I worked our small patch of family land in one way or another from the time I could walk. But every time I saddled up, every time I lost myself on a trail, it felt like freedom.”
“I get that. Some days I can’t believe getting to do what I love is my actual job.”
“But there was always the question of money. We never had any of it.”
He stays quiet, so I keep going.
“At sixteen, I won this silly modeling competition at a local mall. Two years later, I had enough money saved up from modeling gigs for a year of college. I took an acting class and I was good at it, from years of being an only child I guess and playing pretend with farm animals. I started acting because I needed a way out. But once I got a little traction, I realized it wasn’t just about me anymore.
” I’m rambling now. And I’m self-aware enough to know that I am but not strong enough to stop.
“There are girls out there—little girls from nowhere towns who’ve never seen themselves as the star in their own story.
Never seen someone like them win. Because the world wants to make women who look like me the maid or the mistress, but never the main character.
I wanted to show them they didn’t have to settle for the poverty they were born into, and that their worth isn’t measured by how many kids they have or who they marry. ”
He shifts in his seat, nodding slowly. “I get it. I figured it was about more than the spotlight as you don’t seem too into that aspect of it.”
“I wanted a platform. To give them something to believe in. Something I didn’t have growing up when life seemed like a lost cause.”
He looks at me then—really looks—and it nearly undoes me.
That’s…brave as hell, Elena.”
Electricity pings between us. “It doesn’t feel brave most days. It feels exhausting. Like I’m constantly climbing uphill and everyone’s waiting to see if I fall.”
His thumb brushes my knuckles. “You won’t.”
The words land somewhere deep. Like I’ve waited a lifetime to hear them.
“I thought you were just a reckless cowboy that night we met,” I say, giving him a soft smile. “But out here, I see that you’re not. You’re a lot more than you let people see, Isaac Logan.”
He smirks. “Don’t go ruining my reputation now.”
“You’re steady. Grounded. You flew me out there like it was second nature. You train horses like you’re speaking their language. You make me nervous.”
He grins. “Because I’m so good looking?”
I roll my eyes. “Because you’re so modest.”
Silence settles again.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“For what?”
“For making me feel like I’m not just pretending.”
He squeezes my hand gently. “You’re not. You’re already the kind of woman little girls look up to. You just don’t see it yet.”
“I should get this mud off me before someone mistakes me for a ranch hand,” I finally say, breaking the quiet.
Isaac smiles, slow and crooked. “You’d look good in chaps. Matter of fact, just chaps and nothing else would be good.”
My brows lift. “That’s wildly inappropriate, cowboy.”
He shrugs one shoulder. “Never said I wouldn’t be wildly inappropriate.”
I laugh despite myself. And God, it feels good. The kind of good that reminds me I’m still young and alive and capable of falling headfirst into something if I’m not careful.
The quiet between us is heavier now. Buzzing with something unsaid. I want to say it. I want to ask what this is—if he feels it like I do, but I chicken out.
He steps closer—just close enough that I can feel the heat coming off him. His green eyes scan mine like he’s memorizing them.
“What would happen if I kissed you right now,” he murmurs.
The world would end. Or our worlds would at least.
My breath hitches. “Isaac…”
Before he can answer—before I can work up the nerve to either lean in or run for my life—we hear the unmistakable sound of Wyatt’s voice come through the walkie on Isaac’s hip.
“Isaac? What the hell is this mustang doing in here?”
Isaac steps back with a frustrated sigh and mutters, “Perfect timing.”
I turn my face to hide my smile. “Saved by the boss.”
“Me or you?” He arches a brow, challenging me to respond but I don’t.
Because the answer is definitely both.