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“You are sticky. It’s gross,” she grumbled, leaning tighter against my back.
“You can choose to let go, Goldie. No one is forcing you to hold on to me.”
“And risk the chance of you doing something to purposefully get me bucked off? No, thanks.” She slapped my thigh. Adjusting the lead rope that twisted around my saddle horn, keeping Bud with us, I smiled to myself. Such a casual thing for her to do that sent sparking tingles up my body.
“Well, then I don’t know how to help you,” I answered and responded to her slap by tapping her hand around my waist.
“You could take your shirt off.”
“I knew it!” I exclaimed, and she groaned.
“Cassidy Duke, it’s not like that.”
Chuckling, I steered my horse around a couple of trees, wandering the long path back down to the main ranch. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I’m really not in the mood for a sunburn, so I’ll be keeping my shirt on.”
“Can’t I have a turn riding up front?”
“Do you know the way back?”
Her groan vibrated against my body. “No.”
“Then should you be the one in charge of the reins?” I asked, enjoying the lighthearted banter between us.
“Probably not…” she grumbled, and silence fell once again.
We trekked forward, her constant touch igniting a war within my soul. Boundaries had been set, ones that I was determined to respect and adhere to. But the longer my mind focused on her hands wrapped around my waist, narrowed in on her fingers lightly dancing back and forth across my abdomen, the less restraint that remained in my bones.
Think about anything else, Cassidy. Anything at all…
Like the fact that she hadn’t considered the possibility that this dude who allegedly killed all of her cattle may have also killed her father.
Wait, her cattle.
“Briar?” I asked, my hips swaying with the horse’s movement.
“Hmmm?” she lazily buzzed against my back.
“Your herd. Did they all die at once, or was it strung out over a period of time? Did any start to die off before your father passed?”
Her head raised from my back, and her fingers stopped moving, tightening around my shirt. “It started maybe three and a half months after my dad passed, and the final head died the day before I…may or may not have stolen his horse. Because it was over a couple months, at first I thought I was doing something wrong, and then eventually, I was out of money and out of cattle.” She sighed, and I draped the reins over my horse’s neck. Reaching back, I slid a reassuring hand up and down her thigh. Her body quivered against mine.
“What’d you do with them?” I asked, and her fingers entwined with mine. Long and slender, calloused yet perfect. “The dead cattle.”
“I mean, I disposed of them when I could, but the ones that died most recently, I never got around to before needing to get out of there. I did try and make sure they were in the shade and cooler spots, so they wouldn’t stink as bad before jetting off. Why?” Pressure rested upon my shoulder. Her chin dug into my trap, but I didn’t shake her off. In fact, I smiled softly to myself, memorizing the feeling of her like this. Acutely aware of how much would shift when we returned to the ranch.
“Because, I have an idea. It’s kinda crazy, but you said you don’t have any way to prove Wayde is behind anything.”
“Yeah?” Creases pulled her brows together. “Cassidy, where are you going with this?”
“A necropsy. On however many are still viable. If we can figure out the cause of death, then—”
“Maybe we can connect it with Wayde!” she finished for me and squealed. “I can call the vet and get him out there as soon as possible.”
“No,” I immediately said, and she lifted her chin from my shoulder.
“No? But I thought you said that we needed to get a necropsy done? They’ve all been dead for at least over a week now and the longer we wait, the less likely it will help.”
I nodded and picked back up the reins with my free hand. Squeezing her fingers for some reassurance, I sighed. “The necropsy needs to happen, but here. Where Wayde can’t potentially find out or tamper with results, or worse.”
