He wondered, suddenly, if Nat had ever been a child in that way. If she’d ever had shoulders to stand on. “Your grandmother helped you with this place, didn’t she?”
Nat shrugged. “She gave me the money. When she died, she left me the rest. I think she was trying to keep my mother from having it. They never spoke. My grandmother didn’t approve of my father, whether or not he was a doctor.” Her smile was bitter. “She had more sense than my mother did.”
Cole wandered closer, lifting his good hand to brush it over the wooden scar she kept fingering. The bark was paler here, and there was a line of smaller scratches, a few inked lines from a marker, some dates. “Are these all the horses you’ve helped?”
“The ones we saved, that first year.” Nat pointed to one of the red lines. “These are the ones we lost.”
There were more than a few, but they didn’t outnumber the scars. “You did well.”
Nat chuckled, shifting to lean against the tree, shoulder pressed to wood. “Considering what we had? We did all right. The cases got tougher as time went on, but we got a lot more rich people too.”
“Like me.” He grinned.
Her mouth tipped, echoing his expression. “Like you. Only most people just send their horses. Not sure how good I’m gonna be at mending rotator cuffs.”
He laughed at her teasing. “Well, you have to start somewhere, Doctor Nat.”
She just shook her head and chuckled in return, but her eyes were lighter now, the sadness gone. “Does it hurt much?”
“Not much. I think it’s healing pretty well.” He stretched his neck, rubbing at where the sling dug into his shoulder. “I think this is giving me more pain than the tendon, anymore.”
“You could adjust it?” She stepped closer and he went still, turning his head slightly so she could get a better look.
Her touch was featherlight, her scent intoxicating. Like blueberries and cream, rich and sweet without being sickly.
“Is this any better?”
He couldn’t tell any difference, but he could feel her body heat. His gaze caught hers, and fire rippled between them. “Yeah.” His voice dropped into its deepest registers, coming out husky.
Nat’s tongue flicked out, dampening her lips. Dark pupils dilated to spill black across her irises. “You didn’t even pay attention.”
Cole smiled. It stretched over his face, slow and seductive. “No. I didn’t.” He didn’t think she cared, from the way her eyes flickered to his mouth, following his lips as he spoke. His hand rose as if of its own volition, rubbing away a smear of dust along her jawbone. She had a delicate jaw, for all that she was strong. Like a razorblade, sharp and fine. It narrowed down to a perfect little chin under a full mouth. He remembered that mouth from the night before. Remembered how her lips had parted under his, the tiny exhale he doubted she’d been aware of. The way her tongue had stroked his, the way she’d tasted, felt, smelled.
He wanted to taste her again, feel her under him, smell arousal and sex build. Moving slowly, remembering how she’d taken the lead before, he slid his fingers around the nape of her neck. Her skin was chilled despite the warm weather. When he fitted his mouth to hers she shivered, the finest tremble of skin and muscle, so faint he almost didn’t feel it.
She wavered, seemingly caught between stepping closer and stepping away. He kept the kiss light, gentle, fingertips and soft brushes of his mouth, nothing more. He didn’t want to push.
She stepped closer, fitting her body to his. He nearly groaned with relief, pressing tightly against her. One slender hand wrapped around his neck and her mouth opened, deepening the kiss. Her tongue slid against his and he responded, exploring her mouth, the way she tasted. His pulse beat thick and heavy under his skin, in his groin. He shifted his thigh to press between her legs. She caught her balance, opening for him slightly, pressing back.
The temptation was to push harder, to pin her against the tree and keep things moving along fast until they both came. He fought it, keeping his movements slow and gentle. Once you’d won over a skittish horse, you didn’t mess it up by asking for too much, too soon. Still, his good hand skimmed over her jaw, under it, tipping her head up so he could duck his face into her neck, nibble on the slim line of her throat. Her skin was warm, a little salty, and he could feel the beat of her heart in her jugular.
She exhaled, breath soft and shivering. Cole did it again, teeth scraping gently over flesh, pulling that exact little tremble from her that was so thoroughly intoxicating. His fingertips slid over her skin, down one of the slim tendons that framed her throat, and lit on her collarbones. He brushed over them, marveling over how tiny the bones were, like bird wings arcing in from the points of her shoulders.