7. Holden
HOLDEN
“Heads up. Your photographer’s back.”
I grunt, tightening my grip on the lead rope and holding firm as the bay stallion jerks his head up. “Not my photographer.”
Still, my eyes cut to the side, and I catch sight of my truck bouncing up the driveway toward the house.
I was on my way back to the barn when Chance called out, asking for my help.
According to him, this new stallion is going to sire the next generation of Wild Ember champions.
But like me, the horse has an attitude problem.
He’s not making it easy for us to get him into his stall.
Proving my point, he snorts and dances away from me.
“Wrap your shirt over his eyes,” Chance says.
I nod and toss him the end of the rope. Hopefully, the stallion will calm down once his eyes are covered. After stripping off my shirt, I ease toward him, then slip the fabric up his nose and over his eyes. He snorts again, then freezes, all four hooves planted on the ground, his ribs heaving.
“There’s a good man.” I rub my hand down his sweat-dampened neck.
I can sympathize with his reaction. Having your whole life upended in a moment is enough to make anyone dig their heels in.
“Let’s get him in while he’s calm,” my brother says.
I hold my shirt in place as he applies just enough tension to the rope to get the stallion moving.
As we walk, he talks soothingly to the horse, whose ears flick toward him.
My brother may be an arrogant asshole most of the time, but he’s a hell of a horseman.
I don’t doubt Wild Ember’s breeding program is going to become a world-class operation, and that’s mostly thanks to him.
Though with this expansion on our plate now, we have more to worry about than acquiring the best breeding stock.
The thought makes my jaw tighten. I get the damn logic—diversifying to offset market fluctuations and bring more stability to the ranch in the long run—but having strangers wandering around, intruding where they don’t belong, trampling over trails, over memories—
I cut the thought short. Memories are just that. They live in our heads, not in the world around us. Hell, I haven’t even been back to most of the places Mom used to take us before she died.
Plus, if Rick’s plans work out, I might well be gone before the first guests arrive. So why should I care if people want to wander around taking happy snaps while pretending to be cowboys for a weekend?
If Sterling, Dad, and the rest of my siblings think it’s the way to go, what right do I have to argue the point?
As we step into the cool shade of the barn, the scents and sounds of the other horses in their stalls cause the stallion to jolt to a halt again. His ears prick forward, nostrils flaring wide.
“Give him a moment,” Chance says.
I nod, giving the stallion’s neck a reassuring pat.
“So how did it go with Sage this morning?” my brother asks. “Can’t exactly imagine you charming her with sweet talk.”
I keep my expression relaxed. My brother is too observant for his own good. I don’t want him knowing how much Sage gets under my skin. “About as well as can be expected. She doesn’t know anything about how a ranch works. Doesn’t even know how to ride.”
Both of his brows rise this time, followed by one corner of his mouth. “I’m sure I could fit in a few lessons for her.”
Should’ve seen that coming. His idea of giving her riding lessons probably has less to do with getting a horse beneath her and more to do with getting her beneath him.
I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m sure you could. But it’d be nice if she were walking bow-legged after the lesson because of a horse, not because of you.”
He chuckles. “No reason it can’t be both.”
I turn away from him and mutter, “Since I apparently have enough spare time to be the designated babysitter, I guess that’ll include riding lessons if she wants ‘em.”
Smirking, he jerks his head toward an empty stall halfway down the barn’s center aisle, and we get the stallion moving again. Good. Maybe that’s the end of that conversation.
But as he swings the door to the stall open, he goes right back to it. “Why the hell have you got such a bee in your bonnet about her, anyway?”
I slide my shirt off the stallion’s eyes and tuck it into the back of my jeans, then step away so Chance can lead him into the stall. “She has no idea what she’s doing out here.”
“Does she need to? She’s here to take good photos. And you’re here to make sure she doesn’t get into any trouble.”
My brother unclips the lead rope and pats the horse on the shoulder, watching with a faint smile as the stallion drops his head and snuffles the sawdust bedding. Then, with a nod, he steps back out of the stall and latches the door behind him.
Without a word, we rest our arms on the top railing and observe.
Much calmer now, the stallion swishes his tail and makes his way over to the feed bin, giving the contents a suspicious sniff before digging in.
I run my eye over him. With his deep chest, short back, and strong hindquarters, he’ll be a damn fine stud.
I debate whether to compliment Chance on his purchase or do my brotherly duty and give him shit.
The rapid-fire shutter click of a camera captures my attention before I can decide, and the two of us turn to find Taryn and Sage at the barn entrance, Sage snapping photos of us while Taryn giggles.
“Cowboys hard at work,” my sister calls out. “What sort of guests do you think we’ll attract with these kinds of photos?”
The back of my neck instantly knots. I’m sure she’s just joking around, but the last thing I need is for photos of me to be used to sell the ranch guest experience. Stalking forward, I scowl at Sage. “I didn’t agree to be photographed.”
She lowers the camera, her brow furrowing. “I wouldn’t use any photos of you without asking.”
My sister rolls her eyes. “Yeah, Holden, way to overreact. I told her to do it. It was meant to be a joke.”
I scrub my hand over my face, turning to Chance as he steps up beside me. Even his brows are raised.
My shoulder throbs, and I resist the urge to rub it. Taryn’s right—I overreacted. I clear my throat. “I just had enough of that when I was on the circuit. And after—”
My teeth click shut on the words, and I jam my hands into the pockets of my jeans. No need to share the details.
Sage tilts her head and studies me in her unnerving way. “Okay, no problem. I’ll delete these.”
She checks the display on her camera and presses buttons on the back.
Fuck. When did I become such an asshole? I almost stop her and tell her not to worry about it. But I don’t. If it was just a joke, it doesn’t matter whether she deletes them anyway.
“See.” She holds up the camera so I can see the screen, which shows one of the photos she took during the tour this morning. She presses the scroll button, but nothing appears, proving the photos she just took are gone.
“Thanks.” My voice comes out gruff, unforgiving. I hate that I can’t seem to control my body or voice the way I want to these days.
“Now that all the awkwardness is over…” Taryn gives a fake grimace. “I’m officially inviting Sage to dinner tonight. Since you’re her chauffeur, you have to stay as well.”
This time, my sister’s stare is a challenge.
I rarely stick around at the end of the day to eat with the family. Maybe she senses that part of me feels bad about snapping at Sage and that refusing her a home-cooked meal is a step too far, even for me.
Still, I must hesitate for a moment too long because Taryn’s blue eyes turn pleading. “Please, Holden? It’s been ages since we’ve all had dinner together.”
I couldn’t say no now, even if I planned to.
The two of us were close before Mom died.
Before I packed up and left the suddenly too-quiet ranch for the bright lights, the crowds, and the constant buzz of the rodeo circuit.
She might have been just a kid the last time I lived here full time, but I miss that closeness.
I think she does too. “I guess we can stay.”
Her answering smile is so bright it makes my heart squeeze. Have I really been so distant since I came back that a simple family dinner makes her that happy? Or is she just excited to have another woman at the table tonight?
I risk a glance at Sage. Her lower lip is caught between her teeth as she watches us.
What do those pretty hazel eyes see when she looks at me? A broken-down bull rider? A man who’s being a dick for no reason?
Does it matter?
I roll my shoulders to loosen them. In a few months, she’ll be gone. And by then, I’ll have figured out what the hell my future holds. I just need Rick to come back with an offer worth taking.
“I’ve got some more work to do,” I say. “I’ll see you back at the house.”
“Uh-huh.” My sister scrunches up her face. “Maybe put that shirt back on too. Nobody around here needs to see that.”
She waves her finger at my chest and, stupidly, I look down.
Yep. Still shirtless.
With a roll of my eyes, I drag my shirt back over my head. It smells like horse. Then again, the rest of me does too.
As I tug the fabric down, I catch Sage’s gaze fixed on my abs. But she blinks quickly, then averts her eyes and fiddles with her camera.
Not sure if that makes things better or worse.
With a nod to the two women and Chance, whose smirk is clearly meant to annoy me, I step out into the sunshine, unsure whether I’m looking forward to dinner tonight or dreading it.