Spring is in the air, and I’m not even mad about the walk. I get lost in my thoughts about my rides this weekend. We leave tomorrow, and I need to get my head in the game. My shoulder isn’t too bad, but it’s also not great—which makes sense considering the results of the scan say I need surgery on it.
Something I won’t consider until I get this last World Championship under my belt. The doctor hated my refusal to do it right now. I don’t think Summer liked it much either, based on the way she pressed her lips together all tight. But at least she didn’t scold me about it.
She gets it.
For all she’s been through, she understands my drive to succeed. To persevere. To not be a victim of my circumstances. And rather than talking me out of it, she snapped at the doctor to stop treating me like a child.
Her voice was all hard and snippy and—
“Rhett Eaton. What. The. Fuck. Do you think you’re doing?”
Raspy. Just like that. I look up just in time to see her riding on my mount, in a flowy white dress and fucking snakeskin boots.
If her face was a little more Please fuck me, sir and a little less I’m going to kill you, I’d be hard at the mere sight of her.
“Walking home,” I reply with a wink. Something I realize she hates. The wink. I mentally add it to my list of ways to rile her up.
She glares at me. “That.” She points at the tractor.
“Oh. That. That’s just my brothers and I blowing off some steam.”
She halts the horse in front of me, body swaying gently with the horse beneath her. “That”—she points again—“is how three men in their thirties blow off some steam? Why can’t you just be a normal male idiot and make me endure chasing you around while you try to fuck all the buckle bunnies?”
I stare back at her, a little taken aback by her outburst. “Is that really what you’d prefer?”
Her bottom lip pushes out as she raises her chin. I watch the column of her throat move as she glares at me, but she says nothing, even as the seconds stretch between us.
I eventually shrug and drop my gaze. “It was more about the nostalgia. I’m sure Beau will deploy any day now. With the two of us doing what we do, we never know when it will be our last time getting up to criminal mischief together.”
She blinks at that. Like she hadn’t considered that we both have jobs that risk our lives. And then, she pats the expanse of the horse’s back behind the saddle while lifting one leg up to offer me the stirrup. “Get up, you big idiot.”
“You making me ride bitch, Princess?” I wedge a boot in the stirrup and swing myself up a little awkwardly.
“If the shoe fits,” she grumbles, urging the horse forward.
Instead of grabbing her waist, I slide my arms around her petite frame and cover her hands with my own. “I’ve got it.”
For a minute, her fingers clench tight, like she doesn’t want to let go. Of the reins, or the control, or all the tension in her limbs.
But then she sighs, and I feel her body soften against mine as we both sway in time with the swinging gait of our mount. She seems out of breath, just like the poor horse we’re riding.
“What did you do? Gallop into battle?”
“Not before reaming your brothers out. But yeah, I didn’t know what kind of trouble you’d be in. If you’d need help.”
She was rushing to help me. To be there for me.
Her fingers wrap around the horn of the saddle, and the blades of her shoulders brush against my chest. And I can’t help myself. I take the reins in one hand and slide the other across her front. Splaying my fingers out over her ribs.
“How’d that go over?” I say quietly, feeling her body shake as a shiver rushes through her.
Summer clears her throat. “Well, Cade just crossed his arms and glared at me. Beau looked like a kicked puppy. Oh, and I think your dad and Luke might have peed their pants from laughing so hard.”
A deep laugh rumbles in my chest, and I feel her push back into it, her back flush against my chest now as we crest another rolling foothill. It feels really fucking good holding her in the cage of my arms. She’s relaxed with me, and I get off on that.
Without even thinking, my thumb starts to move in a gentle circle against her waist. Rubbing up against the bottom seam of her bra through the airy cotton. “I guess you weren’t lying about being able to ride.”
Her response is to reach forward and trail her fingers over my fingers that hold the reins. I suck in a breath, surprised by her sudden boldness. Her touch is pure heat as the delicate pads of her fingers trace the silver ring on my finger. But whatever hypnotic state she was just in evaporates before my eyes, and she snatches her hand back.
She sits up a little straighter, pulling away incrementally.
“Sorry. Yeah, no. I was pretty good before my heart problems worsened. It’s how I met my best friend, Willa. It’s also why I should have known riding in this dress would have pinched my thighs to shit.” She shifts in the saddle.
I lean down and whisper into her ear, “Well, your chivalry is not lost on me,” which earns me a firm elbow in the ribs.
“Your stupidity is not lost on me. If you’d been caught, I’d be the one in shit. I’d be letting people down.”
“You ever get tired of living to please everyone else all the time? Doesn’t it get boring?” I joke with a playful nip to the lobe of her ear, but based on the way Summer tenses, she doesn’t see the humor.
“Let me off.” She shoves one of my arms from where it’s resting against hers.
“What?”
“Let. Me. Off.”
“Summer, I didn’t mean—“
“I know what you meant. And it’s just further proof that you don’t understand responsibility beyond what you want and what makes you feel good.”
I move my arm away, and she swings her leg over the horse’s lowered neck and slides off easily. I even get a flash of her lacy nude underwear as she goes, but I look away quickly. She’s clearly pissed, and it seems ungentlemanlike to ogle her while she tries to storm off.
“Summer, hold up.”
She raises her hand to stop me. “Please. Just let me walk. I’m having a moment. I need to clear my head. I need space.”
“I—”
Her head shakes, and she closes her eyes to suck in a breath. “Rhett. Please. I need space.”
I don’t miss the wobble in her voice, and as much as I want to stay and scoop her up and do everything in my power to make her feel better, I don’t.
Because I am a gentleman. And I’ll respect her wishes, even when I don’t like them. I clearly struck a nerve. So, I urge my horse into a jog and offer her a casual tip of my hat on the way past.
I spend the next several minutes trying to figure out what that was. What chord did I strike with my comment? One that set her right the fuck off, that much is certain.
Back at the ranch, my brothers are nowhere to be found. They’ve skulked off to lick their wounds somewhere—something that brings a smile to my face. I wish I’d been here to see Summer go off on them. Her caretaker side is strong. But as much of a people pleaser as she might be, she has this vicious streak. This protective streak.
And I fucking live for that.
I untack my bay gelding, give him a quick brush, and turn him back out with a firm pat on the shoulder. Then I trudge back up to the gate that meets up with the main yard, lean myself against a fence post, and wait for Summer.
When she finally comes into sight, my breath freezes in my lungs. She’s a vision in a billowing white dress, cinched tight around her waist, and tall boots. Toned thighs make the odd appearance through the slit in the skirt. Her small hands are curled into fists at her side, and she’s staring at the ground, muttering to herself, dark strands floating across her face.
It sounds like she’s having some sort of internal argument. She looks adorably pissed off, and one side of my mouth tips up in amusement.
“Rhett. I’m not in the mood for our bickering right now,” she says when she glances up and catches me watching her.
“Yeah. Fair. It sounds like you’re doing an excellent job of bickering with yourself.”
Her lips part, but no noise comes out. It’s fucking distracting. Distracting enough that I just stand here, propped up against the fence post while she meanders toward me.
With a heavy sigh, her shoulders droop. “Can you just stop? Please.”
“Why?” I stretch my arms out to clasp the top board with my hands, because without something to grab, I might grab her. And that’s not what she needs right now.
She runs her hands through her hair, pulling it back tight in her fists and tugging at it. She looks agitated, but also defeated.
“I just . . . I’m trying to do a good job. I’m trying hard not to let anyone down. My dad. His business. You. It’s a lot of responsibility, and I kind of got tossed in the deep end with this gig.”
The crack in her voice and the exhaustion in her frame really hits me now. She’s only twenty-five, fresh out of school, and while I haven’t been making her life a living hell or anything, I can see how I haven’t been exactly helpful.
Summer gives so much of herself. Her dad. Her sister. Her stepmom. Everyone she meets.
Me.