frowned and nodded. “Why?”
He shrugged, broad shoulders stretching his blue shirt, and grinned. “Just wondering why you’re taking a Sunday stroll.”
Amy warmed at his sly look. She dropped her gaze, only to find it hovering over the tight denim covering his muscular thigh.
“I’m enjoying a relaxing ride,” she said. “Taking a break like you suggested.”
“At this rate, it’ll take two weeks to cross the grounds. Feels like we’ve been trudging along at this pace for days already.” He jerked his chin toward Lightning. “He’s restless.”
As if on cue, Lightning tossed his head and stomped.
Amy’s mouth tightened. “No, he’s not.”
“Yeah. He is.”
She raised a brow at his deliberate tone. “So what are you suggesting?”
His grin widened. “A harmless competition between friends.”
“I take it you want to race.”
“Isn’t that how our rides always used to turn out?”
Amy smirked. “Pretty much. And, if memory serves, Kayden was correct in saying I always won.”
“Not always.”
“Yeah. I did.”
Logan laughed, the deep, sexy rumble surrounding her and tingling on her skin. “Then you shouldn’t have a problem defending your title.”
Amy hesitated, gaze lingering over the warm depths of his eyes and teasing grin. It was a bad idea. She should be back at the round pen, at least trying to run Thunder through the paces.
She’d promised to bring the stallion back to his old self and hadn’t made a lick of progress. Thunder was the last hurdle she had to overcome before leaving. One that would enable her to pack her bags and walk away to a fresh start, leaving the empty ache in her chest behind.
Only, it was becoming harder to believe she could ever banish it altogether. The four-year absence from Raintree had left her longing for home. These last few weeks had reminded her how much she missed it. And most—or worst—of all, making love with Logan had reminded her of exactly how much she missed him.
They’d continued to sleep beside each other in the same bed. Most nights, she’d fallen asleep on her side, carefully keeping her distance. But each morning, she’d woken up in Logan’s arms, then slipped away quickly while he slept. She’d never been able to give Logan her body without handing over her heart. Still couldn’t. And Logan’s heart was something he’d never been willing to share with her.
Amy sighed. Could what Logan offered be enough? Maybe he was right. Maybe she was too hung up on a fantasy. The kind that didn’t exist. Maybe what he offered was as real as love could get.
“You’re thinking too much.” Logan moved his mount closer and placed his big palm on her thigh.
Amy’s leg tensed. His tender caress penetrated her jeans, slipped beneath her skin and danced in her blood. It rushed higher and filled her chest with a sweet heaviness. The same sweet welling of heat that bloomed when Logan held her, his heart beating beneath her cheek.
Amy closed her eyes and squeezed the saddle horn tighter. She wished that feeling could last. Wished she could carry it with her, possess it forever and never feel alone.
“Just once,” she whispered, clarifying at his confused look. “We’ll race one time.”
That would be enough. Then she could set this longing down and move on. Let Raintree go. And leave Logan, along with the girl she used to be, behind.
She straightened, tossing her hair over her shoulder and re-centering her seat. “How about we up the stakes, though? You win, I muck the stalls. I win, the hat’s mine?”
Logan’s mouth twisted, his tone hesitant. “Don’t know about that. A man should never be parted from his hat.” He tapped the brim with his finger. “And this is a damned good one.”
She laughed. “So, you know you’re gonna lose.”
He knuckled the Stetson up an inch, narrowing his eyes and smiling. “Didn’t say that, babe.”
Amy’s heart tripped in her chest. Logan’s flirtatious gaze seared over her, heating her skin. How many times had she wished for that look from him over the years? And to get it now...
A man stays with his family.
How she still wanted that. Wanted Logan at her side every day. His child in her arms.
His child. Amy froze. Dizzy spells for a week. Feeling off. Her hand touched the flat plane of her belly. How long had it been since...?
She’d arrived home on Thanksgiving Day and she and Logan had made love the night after. Her mind scrambled to count the days, which quickly added up to weeks. Three weeks. Almost three weeks to the day since they’d—
No. Her shoulders slumped, a heavy weight settling over her. There was no need to worry on that account. There was next to no chance of it. What had the doctors said after she’d lost Sara? Her chances of conceiving were—greatly diminished. Highly improbable. And, in the event of a successful conception, pregnancy was...inadvisable.
Amy swiped the back of her hand over her forehead, whisking away cold beads of sweat. Placental abruption. Stillborn. Hemorrhaging. Scarring. Cold clinical terms for something so horrifying.
No. It was highly unlikely. It had taken several times for her to get pregnant before. They’d only been together the one time and she’d been late more than once over the years. But never this late.
Amy’s stomach churned, her palms growing sweaty. She didn’t know which emotion railed at her more. The paralyzing fear of possibly being pregnant. Or the overwhelming pain of never being able to conceive.
A frigid wind swept through, masking the sun’s fading warmth. A streak of adrenaline shot through her veins and shook her limbs, the urge to bolt hitting her hard.
The endless acres before her beckoned, the dormant ground unobstructed and ripe for the taking. Amy tightened her legs around Lightning. He jerked his head, drawing to a reluctant halt.
Lightning wanted to run. So did she. More than anything.
“Whatcha say, handsome?” Amy asked, combing her trembling fingers through Lightning’s coarse mane and striving for a calm tone. “Want to show him up?”
Amy lowered her torso, lightened her seat and clutched the reins. The command from years ago bloomed in her chest, rose to tickle her tongue and escaped on a panicked whisper.
“Fly, boy.”
Lightning heaved forward, hooves pounding over the ground, spraying up dead grass and clumps of mud. Amy moved with him, staying steady and centered. The stallion’s powerful lunges stirred excitement in her veins. It buzzed in her blood, strengthening her posture and dancing on the surface of her skin.
Each
