23
“W hat is this?” My eyes take in the contraption set up in the backyard. A large barrel drum welded to long steel rods that elevate it four feet off the ground.
“Your horse.” Wyatt slaps the barrel, a hollow clang echoing around us. “For now.”
With my walker, I circle the barrel rig. Lawless and Lovely chuff in the barn, eager for their evening walk around the pasture. The July air is balmy and warm. The sun is a ball of brilliant fire as it sets.
“You built this for me?”
“Yeah. I did.”
My heart flutters. I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on. Wyatt worked in his off-time to do this for me. To give me a shot. The way he’s instantly flipped my world from bad to good needs to be studied. Only he can do that.
Wyatt pulls the lever attached to the barrel rig, and it raises the barrel up and down to simulate bucking. “It ain’t gonna replace a live bull. And it’s no horse. But it will get you practice for the real thing. And we can see how you can ride with that hip of yours.”
Excitement flares inside me. I missed training with Wyatt. He’s never mean or cruel but always course corrects sternly. If you fuck up, he tells you. But he’s honest. He matches the rider’s energy. That’s why he’s a damn good trainer.
Wyatt watches me closely. “You scared?”
I scoff. “Never.”
He grins. “That’s what I thought.”
I walk toward him, stopping inches from him, and stare up into his handsome face. “Why are you helping me?”
His expression reveals worry, concern. Jaw tightening, he drags a hand through his golden-brown hair.
“Because I can’t stop you. With or without me, you’ll ride.
I’ll always worry, but you have a dream, and that ain’t an easy thing to shake.
” A chuckle shakes out of him. “I think by now, I know you can’t be roped. ”
A small smile curls my lips.
“When can we start?” I ask.
He crosses his tan arms, biceps bulging. “Soon. I have rules.”
Rules.
By the smug smile on his face, I can tell it’s payback. Well, I already hate Wyatt’s rules. Although, I can think of one of my own I’d like to break. If the way he was in bed is any indication, one slow kiss would be the death of me.
I drag in a breath, nostrils flaring. “Fine.”
“One, you listen to me,” he says as he paces a circle around me. “No arguments. You do what I say when I say it.”
“Acceptable.”
“Two, you don’t get on an actual fucking horse until I say you’re ready. The first time you ride, we ride together.”
I lift a shoulder. “Sounds reasonable.” I love it when he gets into trainer mode. Barking orders. Sexy. Stern.
“Three, we keep this fucking quiet.” His bright-blue eyes are on mine. “Any of our family finds out, we’re dead.”
“No shit.” Davis and Dakota would kill us in our sleep. I tilt my chin. “Deal.”
“Deal, then.”
He extends a hand, and I take it. Our callouses scrape together. He doesn’t shake, but instead, pulls me toward him.
“Thank you for this,” I say, hating the flutter in my chest. “Thank you for…” I search for the right words. “Putting up with me this last month.”
Something like amusement crosses his face. “I don’t put up with you. Hell, I like you, Fallon.” He caresses a thumb over the back of my hand. His voice drops to a throaty rasp. “I haven’t felt whole since you left.”
Shock slams into me. I want to say me too so badly I shiver. But it’s too much. Too scary to reveal the truth. Too dig into his words.
Desperate to kill the moment, I arch a brow. “I’d kiss you if you weren’t so stupid.”
Wyatt laughs darkly, and then he lets go of my hand.
Before I can be disappointed by the loss of him, his big hands fit to my ribs.
He smiles, his gaze dropping to my face and lingering there.
Then his deep, rumbling timbre sweeps over me.
“You are the bravest, the best person I have ever known, Fallon. If anyone can get back on a horse, it’s you. ”
I go rigid. Not quite trusting his words. My heart. So different from so long ago. “Do you mean that?”
He squeezes my ribs. “I do.”
Grateful. So grateful to have him on my side. I’ve fucked up everything. With Dakota. My father. My body. My marriage. But I can do this. I can ride again.
Because of him.
Wyatt. The cowboy I met so long ago. The trainer with the eye roll.
Charming, funny, broody, a pain in my ass.
The cowboy who sat with my father during his chemo sessions.
Who roughhoused with his brothers but was gentle and kind to any little kid who rode at the ranch.
Who can get a horse to do anything he asks.
Who argued with me for hours in motel rooms about life and music and books.
Who sat with me in the hospital after Aiden and never once let go of my hand.
Who hurt me.
So long ago.
I remember what he said. I remember crying in Dakota’s arms and cursing Wyatt Montgomery.
His words tore open wounds, all my insecurities about my father, about being a girl.
I remember tearing every poster I had of him off my bedroom wall and burning them in the backyard.
I remember it all, but when I stare into those endless bright-blue eyes, the memories don’t hurt as much.
I don’t hate him.
Not anymore.
Maybe I never did.
Wyatt grins.
“You ready to ride, Trouble?” he drawls, that impossible smile heating my blood.
“Yeah,” I breathe. “Ready to ride.”