11. Holden
HOLDEN
The sun is just starting to dip toward the mountain peaks as I stride toward the main barn. This morning, before Sage disappeared to photograph some of the completed guest cabins, I told her to meet me at the round pen this afternoon for her first riding lesson.
Now I’m regretting it. I’ve been out wrangling calves with my brothers most of the day. My shoulder aches, but that’s nothing new, and it’s not why I’m wishing I hadn’t scheduled this lesson.
I’m tired. Not because calf wrangling is hard work—though it is. I’m tired from trying to figure out where I fit with my brothers after all the years I was gone. They work together like a well-oiled machine, while I still seem to circle them from the outside, looking for a way in.
They’re not doing it deliberately—hell, I wouldn’t blame them if they were—but when you’re working with livestock, there’s no time to second-guess yourself. You react on instinct, and their instinct isn’t to look for me.
After entering the barn, I head for the tack room.
Since Sage has already met Cozy, I figure she’ll be the best mount for her to learn on.
I collect her gear, then make my way to the mare’s stall.
After giving her a quick groom, I slip a halter on her, gather up her tack, and lead her down to the round pen.
I’ve just tied Cozy to the fence post when my cell rings. After setting her tack over the top railing, I dig the phone out of my back pocket.
It’s Rick.
I pick up. “Hey, man.”
“Holden, hey. I was half expecting to get your voicemail again.”
I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand. “Yeah, sorry. Things have been busy here the last few days.”
“Uh-huh. Did you look over the details I sent you?”
“Yeah, but I’m not sure.” I blow out a breath. “If I’m gonna come back, I’d rather be more hands-on, not just a spokesperson.”
“There’s only so much hands-on shit you can do without getting your ass on the back of a bull. You sure that’s not an option?”
With my eyes closed, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You heard the doc as well as I did. I can ride again, once, maybe twice. But if my shoulder takes another rotational hit, there’s a good chance I won’t regain function.”
He hums. “Some riders would take that risk.”
I grip the phone hard enough to leave a damn imprint.
“Yeah, some do. And some don’t make it out the other side in one piece.
Given the nerve damage I’ve already suffered, the chance of hanging on to my title is slim to none.
I love bull riding, man. You know that. But I don’t want to risk it all just so the fans can gush about my amazing comeback right up until I start sliding down in the rankings.
And if I end up with only one functioning arm, I won’t even be of use here at Wild Ember. ”
Rick lets out a heavy sigh, probably thinking about the money he’s going to be losing out on. But he knows me well enough by now not to push. “Right. I’ll cross off brand ambassador and guest appearances. What about commentating?”
I tip my head back and squint up at the sky. “Better than nothin’, but not as good as team trainer.”
His chuckle is dry. “Leave it with me. I’ll see what I can rustle up.”
“Thanks, man.”
I’m just shoving my phone back into my pocket when Sage rounds the corner of the stallion barn.
“I made it here in one piece,” she says as she reaches me. “No getting lost, no falling off a cliff.”
“I can see that.”
For a few seconds, I allow my gaze to trail down over her. She’s only been here a matter of days, but already, she’s stopped looking like she’s playing the role of city girl meets country.
Her jeans hug her waist and follow the flare of her hips before skimming down the length of her legs. Her sleeves are rolled to her forearms, exposing warm skin dusted by the setting sun, while the straw cowboy hat Taryn helped her pick out shadows her eyes but doesn’t hide her lush mouth.
She doesn’t look out of place anymore, that’s for sure.
Don’t know if that’s a good thing.
Tilting her head to one side, she points behind me. “That’s Cozy, right?”
“Yep. Figured you’d be more comfortable with her.”
The smile she flashes me is the same one she gave me this morning when she opened her door and spotted the thermos in my hand. Her expression had brightened. “Two days in a row. Is this your attempt to kill me with kindness?”
“Can’t believe you figured out my plan,” I deadpanned.
She shook her head, her hazel eyes sparkling in the early-morning light as she took a sip of the coffee I’d deliberately not thought too hard about while making for her.
I don’t know how we got to the point where our mutual irritation has become something else. Something… easier.
But I shouldn’t like it as much as I do.
Cozy snorts, bringing my attention back to why we’re here. “Are you ready for your lesson?”
Sage blows out a breath and rubs her palms on her jeans. “As I’ll ever be.”
“First things first. I want you to watch me saddle her. Before long, you’ll be doing it yourself.”
“I’m glad to know you have confidence in me,” she says. “I actually thought you were going to put me on one of those cute little horses I’ve seen around.”
I raise my brows. “The ones down by the pony paddock, you mean?”
She squints one eye at me. “Possibly.”
“City, those are for kids.”
“Kids have the right idea,” she mutters. “Shorter distance to fall.”
My lips quirk. “You’ll be fine.” I lay the saddle blanket on Cozy’s back, then lift the saddle off the top of the fence and settle it in place. Once I’ve tightened and buckled the cinch that goes around her stomach, I give her a pat on the shoulder.
Sage exhales. “That doesn’t look too hard.”
“It’s not done yet.” I run my fingers between the cinch and the mare’s stomach. “We’ll give it a few minutes, then check it again. Some horses hold their breath and blow their ribs out to keep it loose.”
She flashes me a smile. “I should do that when I zip up my jeans.”
With a chuckle, I grab the bridle from the fence and show her how to put it on Cozy. Once that’s done, I check the cinch again and tighten it another few holes, then give the saddle a firm tug to make sure it doesn’t shift.
Sage gnaws on her lip. “Does it hurt them? The, um, cinch. Is that why they hold their breath?”
I shake my head, scratching Cozy’s neck. “It doesn’t hurt. Some are just smart enough to figure out how to give themselves some wiggle room. But the last thing anyone needs is a saddle slipping. It’s dangerous for both the horse and the rider.”
Her brow pinches, like she’s not convinced.
I dig a packet of mints out of my pocket and pop one out. “Here.” I hand it to her. “Hold it in your palm, flat like I showed you, and give it to her.”
She stares at it, then at me, a quizzical slant to her mouth. “Horses like mints?”
“Some do. Cozy’s one of them.”
Tentatively, she steps closer. As soon as Cozy catches the scent of the mint, her ears prick forward, and she eagerly stretches out her muzzle.
Sage stops just outside Cozy’s reach, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. Like I did on the first day, I move behind her, take her hand in mine, and slowly extend it.
The scent of her shampoo teases me, and I’m all too conscious of the warmth of her body against mine. So I concentrate on keeping my movements slow and sure, so as not to startle her or the horse.
When our hands get close enough, Cozy snuffles up the mint, then crunches it happily.
Sage laughs, the vibration of it against my chest sending a flash of heat through me.
“She really does like them.”
I release her and back away. “Yeah, she’s a sucker for them. She’ll be your best friend now.”
I pull the remaining mints out of my pocket and pass them to her. “Keep these on you. You can give her another one at the end of the lesson.”
“Thank you.”
The smile she sends my way warms me in a way I don’t want to examine, so I just nod in response.
“Okay. Lesson three. Mounting.”
“Wait, what was lesson two?”
“Making friends with your horse.”
Her laugh floats around us. “Got it.”
“All right.” I adjust the stirrup leather one last time. “Left foot goes here.”
She eyes the saddle dubiously. “You’re sure this is the easiest way to get on?”
“You got a ladder in your back pocket, City?”
She narrows her eyes at me as I step closer and brace one hand on the saddle horn to steady it.
“Okay, put your left foot in the stirrup.”
She hops once, then manages to fit it in.
“Hold on to the horn with your left hand,” I tell her. “Keep your right hand on the back of the saddle.”
She lets out a breath, then follows my directions.
“Good. Now push up with your left leg and swing your right one over.”
She gets halfway up before her boot slips in the stirrup, sending her pitching sideways.
“Oh—”
I reach out to steady her, my hand closing around her leg. The contact lasts no more than two seconds, but the way her thigh flexes against my palm sears itself into my brain.
Luckily, Cozy is patient. She’s put up with plenty of learners climbing on and off her. She stands, hipshot, tail whisking at flies, until Sage settles awkwardly in the saddle. As soon as she does, I step back, fingers curling at my sides.
She grins down at me, her eyes bright. “I can’t believe I’m on a horse.”
I swallow roughly. “Are you ready to go for a walk?”
She nods eagerly, her earlier nervousness seemingly gone.
“If you start to wobble, grab on to the horn. Otherwise, hold the reins loosely.” I hand them to her, making sure there’s plenty of slack between her hands and Cozy’s mouth.
“I’ll lead her around to start with, so you don’t have to worry about steering.
Just feel how she moves beneath you and relax into the rhythm. ”
“Got it.”
Holding the side piece of Cozy’s bridle, I lead her around the pen. She walks calmly by my side, and when I glance back at Sage, she’s grinning again. “Feeling good up there?” I ask her.
“It’s actually really relaxing.”
My lips twitch, and I face forward again. “It is.”
Once she’s comfortable, I show her how to guide Cozy with the reins before releasing the bridle and letting her take over. A slight crease forms between her brows as she rides around the pen in one direction, then turns the mare and heads back the other way without any help from me.
When she gives a little fist pump of accomplishment, I rub my hand over my mouth to hide my amusement. Somewhere along the way, my regret over scheduling this lesson seems to have evaporated.
After another ten minutes or so, I decide that’s enough for today and explain how to dismount. Since it’s essentially the reverse of mounting, it’s relatively straightforward. Except when Sage slides down Cozy’s side, she wobbles a little on landing.
On instinct, I grasp her waist and pull her back against me. “I’ve got you.”
Her sharp inhale vibrates through me. For a moment, we stand frozen, my words lingering in the air between us.
My thumbs trace small circles against her ribcage before I can stop myself. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, except complicating something I should be doing my best to simplify now that some of the tension between us has eased.
Yet it takes far more effort than it should to loosen my hold and step back so she can face me.
“Dismounting takes a bit of getting used to. It’ll be easier once you get a feel for your horse’s height.” My voice comes out rough.
Sage wets her lips, her gaze searching mine. “Thank you.”
There’s a smudge of dust on one of her cheeks, and I have to force myself not to smooth it away. It seems like the more I touch her, the easier it becomes to keep touching her.
Cozy takes the opportunity to nuzzle at Sage’s pocket.
“Oh, I forgot.” She pulls the packet of mints out and pops one into her palm. “Here you go.”
She carefully holds her hand out flat, this time without hesitation. Cozy is just as quick to snuffle it up as she was last time, and Sage laughs softly. The sweet sound tugs at my chest.
When was the last time I heard a woman sound that carefree? I’ve spent the last decade indulging in superficial relationships—post-win hookups or short-term flings that never asked much of either of us.
It worked when my whole focus was on the next rodeo, the next ride. But it doesn’t lend itself to moments of genuine warmth.
“Come on,” I say, gruffer than I intend. “You can help me put her away.”
Sage doesn’t seem to mind my tone. “Okay, let’s go.”
Together, we walk toward the barn, Sage holding Cozy’s reins so the mare ambles at her side.
“You know, you’re good at this,” she says as we enter the cool shade of the barn.
I shoot her a glance. “What’s that?”
“Teaching. I admit, I thought you’d be more… impatient, I guess.”
We stop in front of Cozy’s stall. “Losing patience around animals doesn’t help anyone learn.”
She cocks her head, a slow smile lighting her face. “Are you talking about the horse or me?”
“I’m pretty sure only one of you can be cajoled with mints.”
“True. I guess my weakness is coffee.”
I should suggest that Taryn take her into town to buy a coffee maker. Or, hell, I could offer to take her myself.
But I don’t.
“Your legs will probably be stiff tomorrow,” I tell her. “We’ll leave your next lesson for a few days.”
“Thanks.” She scratches Cozy between the eyes. “Thank you, too, Cozy. For letting me ride you.”
The image hits me without warning—Sage straddling me, head tipped back, dark hair cascading down her spine…
Jesus Christ. She was talking to a goddamn horse.
Shoving the thoughts aside, I focus on showing her how to unsaddle the mare, then remove her bridle and replace it with a halter. I swing the stall door open and lead Cozy inside, then grab two brushes so Sage can help me brush her down.
We work quietly, but it isn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it’s soothing. I catch myself smiling at the way Sage murmurs to the mare as she moves around her.
At one point, our hands meet as we stroke over Cozy’s now-shiny coat. A little spark, almost like a static shock, passes between us.
Yet neither of us pulls away.