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You just need to get some sleep. That’s all this is. Your brain can’t form coherent thoughts right now.
“What’s wrong, really? You have been in a god-awful mood lately.” Dolly steps closer to me, her eyebrows pinching together. Her long ebony hair is in a thick braid resting on her bare shoulder.
I sigh, helping her unpack the spread of sandwiches, a fruit salad, individually wrapped brownies, and the veggie tray Rosie already opened.
“Haven’t been sleeping,” I say quietly.
“Is it the stress? I thought Cash said the ranch was doing fine?”
“It’s not that. It’s just … different, being home. I’m not used to it.”
I could tell her about the nightmares and the panic attacks, but there’s nothing she can do about it. I’m handling it.
“Is there anything I can do?”
I shake my head. “No. I’ve got it under control. Thanks for bringing lunch out.”
Dolly nods, handing me a bag of food and nodding toward the horses that Rosie is now petting. “Why don’t you take it somewhere farther away and get a breather this afternoon?”
Cash grabs a sandwich for himself. “We need someone to check the fence on the edge of that pasture on County Road 1592, where those calves got stuck last week.”
Their message is clear. My disposition is shit, and everyone is over it. I nod, grabbing the bag from Dolly.
I watch as Rosie shoves her boot into the stirrup, hauling herself up onto Cash’s horse. The gelding whinnies, nuzzling the back of my mare’s rear end. Queen Liz ignores him, still feasting on the carrots Rosie gave her. Rosie tries steering her horse toward the pasture, but he won’t move.
Neither of us speaks as I mount my horse, looping the handle of the plastic grocery bag around the horn of my saddle before clicking my tongue at the horse.
Cash’s gelding, Trooper, follows Queen Liz wherever she goes. I assume Rosie is aware of this as I steer the mare toward the pasture. Rosie doesn’t say anything. After a few minutes of silent walking, Rosie’s horse steps up closer to mine. She leans down to pet his neck, her hair spilling down past her shoulder and forearm. The copper tones shine brightly in the sunlight, the rich color a shade darker than Queen Liz’s coat.
“He’s obsessed with her,” she notes.
Can’t blame him.
“Queen Liz is the prize,” I tell her, observing her from the corner of my eye.
She looks good, so damn good, on top of that horse. Her sundress is blowing in the wind, wrapping tightly around her curves.
We ride in silence until reaching a patch of ancient oak trees on the fence line. My hands are beginning to shake from my exhaustion, so I pull back on the reins of my horse.
“I’m going to stop and eat,” I tell her.
Rosie nods, not needing to give the command to Trooper, as he follows everything Queen Liz does. She glances back at the group with uncertainty.
I dismount, moving over to Rosie to help her down. She was raised out here as much as Dolly was, so I doubt she needs my help. My Southern roots go too deep not to offer her assistance. My fingers curl around her hip bones, squeezing gently as I guide her safely down to the ground. Her dress rides up slightly, revealing the creamy white skin of her upper thighs.
She turns to look up at me, chewing her bottom lip. “I should get back,” she murmurs, looking around as if just noticing that we’re alone out here.
“Scared to be alone with me, Dixon?”
She sets her jaw, lifting her chin in defiance. “I’m not afraid of you, Redford.” She folds her arms across her chest.
I turn away from her before letting my lips curve into a smile at her words. After grabbing the sack lunch from my saddle, I collapse at the base of a tree, leaning back against the trunk. Rosie stands, aloof, petting Trooper before moving to give Queen Liz some attention.
My fingers reach for the sandwich in my bag. I need protein for energy to get through the rest of this day. I bite into it, chewing mindlessly as my eyes trail over her hips and ass, absently admiring her shape. She turns to approach me, observing the rough ground around me.
“Why can’t you sleep?” she asks.
I look up at her through half-lidded eyes, my vision blurred. Telling my family about my issues feels impossible, but Rosie isn’t a part of the family. She’s strangely easy to talk to.
