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Her doe eyes crinkled with intrigue. “Really long. I’ve never cut it.”
“Not once?” I exclaimed, squinting through the downpour.
“Nope, never.”
“Come on. I bet your mom cut it at least once when you were a kid.”
“Well, since she died giving birth to me, I’d say that’s impossible.”
My mouth fell open. “I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine.” A simple smile danced across her lips. “It was twenty-eight years ago, I’ve had plenty of time to grieve.”
“So, is that why you’ve never cut it? For your mom?” Inhaling deeply, I grabbed the reins and twisted some wet mane into my fingers, then hoisted myself onto the saddle.
“Dad always said it reminded him of her, so yeah. I did everything I could to take care of it.” She swung a leg over and sat down gently in her saddle, a hiss slipping through her teeth. “Man, I hate being wet.”
“I didn’t know I elicited such a response from you,” I responded with a wink.
And then slammed a hand over my mouth. Her cheeks turned bright red beneath the shadow from her hat. So warm, the leftover rain steamed against her skin.
“I’m sorry, that just kind of slipped out. That was rather inappropriate and—”
“And kind of funny,” she muttered, cutting me off. She sucked in her lips, the edges of her eyes crinkling, fighting a smile.
“Old habits die hard,” I replied with a shrug.
She raised a brow. “Maybe not all of them need to.” And she bumped her heels against the horse's side, inching him toward the calf that we still needed to bring back to the pasture.
What?
Chapter 7
CASSIDY
The calf darted toward his mom, finally safely returning to the herd that was hunkered down in a small valley, protected by a large grove of trees. A small brook, overflowing with the rain, blazed along the bank that no longer existed. The damp grass, weighed down by the heavy storm, was as green as it would ever be. Cash sat on his horse beside me as we simply watched the herd, ignoring the wet liquid still tumbling from the sky. Briar was back at camp, hiding out inside a tent while her clothes dried near the crackling fire.
“You’ve gotta be as cold as she is; I can see the mud on ya even with that slicker,” Cash said, breaking the rumbling sky.
I chuckled. “Eh, not bad. Mostly got my shirt; my britches feel fine.”
“Well, perfect. ’Cause you’re tenting it with Briar tonight.”
“What?!” I snapped my gaze to Cash and glared at him.
“Where else is she gonna sleep?”
“Can’t your boys crawl in with you?”
“And have four of us in a two-man tent? Do you not remember Keaton’s growth spurt?”
Pulling a frown upon my lips, I leaned back in the saddle. “Then how am I supposed to get out of these clothes and dry, Cash? She’s a woman.”
“Exactly. You’ve practically become a monk; it’s high time something stirs things up.” He wiggled his brows and then spun his horse around and loped off.
“YOU—” I wanted to say some fairly rude things, but I let it go as he disappeared back toward the camp.
Rolling my shoulders, I let the rain trickle off the brim of my hat and watched the massive herd of cattle. They’d be fine here, and I could head to get some supper, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to just yet. There was something quite peaceful out here, sitting on the edge of the sharp sword that could swing at just any moment. There was something relatively blissful about being all alone.
