Chapter Twenty-Five #3
And as the thought settled over her, another followed close behind.
Somewhere along the way, Flint Callahan had become woven into every version of that future she could imagine.
Gradually, the sounds of Nathan's property began returning around them. Daisy heard the familiar creak of the barn doors shifting in the breeze, the distant cluck of chickens wandering somewhere near the yard, and the occasional stamp of a horse waiting patiently in its paddock.
The ride had lasted far longer than she'd intended when she'd first climbed into the saddle, yet she found herself wishing for a few more minutes before it ended.
By the time they slowed near the barn, a pleasant weariness had settled through her limbs, and the smile she'd been trying unsuccessfully to hide still lingered.
Flint brought his horse alongside hers. "How are you holding up?"
Daisy ran a hand along the gelding's neck, her fingers sinking into the warm coat. "I believe I owe this horse an apology."
A laugh crept into Flint's voice. "For what?"
"I spent the better part of an hour assuming he was plotting my death."
The gelding flicked an ear beneath her hand while the easy warmth of their conversation lingered between them. When Flint dismounted, the soft thud of his boots against the ground immediately told Daisy what would happen next.
She smiled to herself.
Flint had spent the entire afternoon respecting her independence, yet she could practically feel him preparing to hover.
Before he could say a word, she lifted her chin. "I can get down by myself."
His reply arrived suspiciously quickly. "I never doubted it."
Carefully, she found the saddle horn and shifted her weight. Mounting had required determination. Dismounting, she discovered, required considerably more faith than she'd anticipated.
One foot found the stirrup easily enough, which gave Daisy a dangerous amount of confidence. The second proved more elusive. She adjusted her position and searched again, concentrating on the familiar motions she'd performed countless times before the fever changed her life.
The gelding shifted beneath her just as her boot found empty air.
A startled breath escaped her as her balance disappeared and the ground seemed to tilt unexpectedly beneath her. Daisy reached instinctively for the saddle, but Flint moved far faster than she did.
One arm wrapped around her waist while his other hand steadied her shoulder, lifting her cleanly from the saddle before she could do herself any damage.
A heartbeat later, her boots met solid ground, though Flint's arm remained firmly around her as if he hadn't quite convinced himself she was steady yet.
Neither of them spoke.
Daisy's hand rested against his shoulder.
She could feel the strength beneath his shirt, the warmth of sun-soaked fabric, and the steady rhythm of his breathing.
Flint stood so close that the familiar scent of leather, horse, and clean sweat surrounded her completely, making it difficult to remember why stepping away seemed sensible.
The afternoon breeze stirred the loose strands of her hair. Nearby, a horse snorted softly and pawed at the dirt, yet every other sound seemed strangely distant.
Daisy became aware of the warmth radiating from him and the steady rhythm of his breathing. The familiar scent of leather, clean sweat, and sun-warmed cotton surrounded her so completely that drawing a full breath suddenly felt far more complicated than it should have.
"You caught me," she said quietly.
Flint's hand lingered at her waist. "I was always going to."
Daisy suspected he meant the horse. That was certainly the safest interpretation, and the one she ought to accept without further examination. Unfortunately, years spent knowing Flint Callahan had taught her that the things he said and the things he meant weren't always identical.
She could have asked.
She didn't.
The answer might have changed nothing at all, yet the possibility that it could change everything left her unwilling to risk the question.
Eventually, Flint eased his arm away and took a careful step back. The sudden absence of his warmth felt far more noticeable than it should have, leaving Daisy acutely aware of the space separating them and of how little she liked it.
The familiar sounds of the yard gradually returned to her awareness: horses shifting nearby, wind stirring through the grass, the distant creak of the barn doors.
Life carried on exactly as it always had, while Daisy stood wondering how a simple riding lesson had managed to leave her feeling entirely different from the way she had that morning.
Flint cleared his throat. “We should probably head inside before Nathan decides we've wandered off."
Together they started toward the house, moving at an easy pace across the yard while the afternoon sun settled pleasantly against her skin.
Daisy listened to Flint's footsteps beside her and found herself smiling again, because the happiness filling her had very little to do with horses and far more to do with the man walking at her side.