way his luck had run out. Losing Lucy had changed him, and some people would say not for the better.
“I’m sorry,” he said. The words sounded rusty and forced but they weren’t. She didn’t deserve to be treated the way he’d treated her, because he wanted her and he knew he wasn’t going to do anything about it. He wasn’t about to invite another person into the chaos that his life was right now.
“What for?”
“That sounded...jerky, didn’t it? Like I’m trying to imply that your life isn’t complicated,” he said. “That’s not at all what I meant. I just meant I’m a mess and this ride was nice and you are wonderful...”
He trailed off. What else could he say? He thought she was cute. Maybe he’d like to kiss her, if he wasn’t so stuck in that morass of guilt and grief. And then more guilt because his grief was starting to wane. And it’s not like Lucy would have expected him to grieve forever, but moving on was like saying goodbye again.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” she said.
“What?”
“Saying I’m wonderful. I mean, I have faults like everyone else,” she said. Her words were light and obviously meant to give him a way back from the dark place he’d wondered into. But in her eyes he saw weariness and he knew that she wasn’t as...well, undamaged as he had believed she was.
“You seem like it from here,” he said at last.
“Then I better keep up the illusion.”
But now that she’d brought it up he was trying to see what there was to the young horsewoman. She seemed uncomplicated. He thought about how when he was her age, life had been pretty damned sweet.
“Tell me,” he prompted.
“Tell you what?” she asked.
“Something that isn’t wonderful about you,” he said.
“Ah, well, I think that would be easy enough. I have a short temper. I believe I gave you a glimpse of that a moment ago.”
“You sure did,” he said with a laugh. “But that could also be called spunk. I like feisty women.”
“You do?” she asked, then shook her head. “What about you? What’s one of your faults?”
“Hell, I’m not even sure where to begin,” he said. And he knew that he didn’t want to open that can of worms. His life was littered with regrets lately. Only spending time with Faye or sitting in the dark working on the computer tracking down code seemed to get him out of his own head space.
“I’m not as clever as I once believed I was.”
She started laughing. “Well, I think that’s the same for all of us. Race you back to the barn?”
“Sure, but since I haven’t ridden in a while I think I deserve a handicap.”
“Really?” she asked. “That is such a load of crap. If I hadn’t seen you ride out here I might have fallen for it.”
“It was worth a try,” he said.
The fall breeze blew, stirring the air, and a strand of her red hair slipped from her braid and brushed against her cheek. He leaned forward in his saddle and gripped the reins to keep from reaching out and touching her.
He’d just shoved a big wedge between them. A smart man would leave it in place. A smart man would remember that Amberley wasn’t a woman to mess with and he had never been the kind of man who screwed around with anyone.
But he didn’t feel smart.
He felt lonely and like it had been too long since he’d been able to breathe and not catch the faint scent of hospital disinfectant. He wanted to sit here until night fell and then maybe he’d think about heading back to the life he had. He wanted...
Something he wasn’t in a position to take.
He knew that.
“Hey, Will?”
He looked up, realizing that she’d been staring at him the entire time.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t sweat it. I’ve got a beef with city dudes and it’s clear that you have something with your baby’s mama to deal with. You’re hot and the way you ride a horse makes me feel things I’d rather not admit to, but that’s it. You’re on the Flying E to work and as a guest and I’m going to treat you like that. So don’t think...”
“What do you feel?” he asked.
Will knew he felt reckless and dangerous and he wasn’t going to stop now. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to pull her off the horse and into his arms and see where that led.
“Like I said, I’m not going there.”
He shifted in the saddle and dismounted his horse, dropping the reins on the ground to check that the horse would stay, and it did.
Will walked over to her and stood there next to her horse, looking up at her. He was closer now, and he could see her eyes, and he wasn’t sure what he read in her expression. He was going to tell himself it was desire and need. The same things he was feeling, but he was afraid he might be projecting.
“Come on down here,” he said. “Just for this afternoon let’s pretend we aren’t those people. I’m not a guest and you’re not a ranch hand. We’re just a guy and his girl and we’ve got this beautiful afternoon to spend together.”
* * *
Never in her life had Amberley wanted to get off a horse more. But her gut said no. That this wasn’t going to be sweet or uncomplicated. And the last time she’d been sweet-talked by a guy it hadn’t ended well. It didn’t matter that she was older and wiser now. She didn’t feel as if she was either.
Riding hadn’t helped to chase away her demons back then, when she’d found herself pregnant and alone at eighteen, and it wasn’t helping now. He stood there in his clothes, not fake-cowboy duded up the way some city guys dressed when they came to Texas, and to be fair he looked like he fit in. He wasn’t chasing a Wild West fantasy, he was here to do a job.
And her job was to make him feel comfortable.
What could be more comfortable than hanging out together?
Dumb.
Stupid.
His hair was thick and wavy and he wasn’t wearing a hat, so she could see the way he’d tousled it when he’d run his fingers through it. She wasn’t getting off her horse. She was going to be sensible.
Please, Amberley, be sensible.
But she never had been.
She suspected it was because she’d had to be so responsible so young. She’d always had to take care of her younger brothers and sisters. But that was in Tyler, and she was away from there now, with no one to worry about but herself.
