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“That’s quite apicture on the wall in there,” Jackson said. He meant it. The dynamic, powerful duo of horse and rider practically burst out of the flat medium of the photograph, and when he’d first looked at it, he almost heard the echo of the roar of a Sunday rodeo crowd.
“It was a good year. Our best, in competition. That’s why I retired on it.”
“There’s a lot of trust in that image.”
She looked at him as if he’d startled her. Again. He didn’t want to think how bad her initial opinion of him must have been if every normal thing he said surprised her.
“Yes. Jet and I had a strong bond. I rode him for most of my competitive career. He was a great horse, with a ton of drive and spirit.”
Just like you, I suspect.
But he only said, “Was?”
A flash of sadness showed in her eyes for a moment. “Yes. We lost him last year. He was seventeen. He competed until he was twelve and still beat the younger horses.”
“He sounds like one of a kind.”
The sadness retreated, replaced by the glow of pride. Pride in a beloved teammate. “He was. I never would have gone as far as I did without him. And that career and reputation he helped me build is the foundation of what I have now. I owe it all to him.”
Jackson’s throat tightened a little. For her to give credit to what some called a dumb animal told him a great deal about the character of this woman. But he had to admit, he liked herearlier apology even better. Because she couldn’t have found a better way to say it.
...a kid like that couldn’t have the kind of man I assumed you were as a father.
It seemed when Nicole—Nic, now that he had permission—Baylor apologized, she didn’t mess around.
“Now,” she said, snapping him out of the reverie, “let’s find you a horse to ride.”
He lifted a brow at her. “Got any bucking horses around?” She gave him a startled look. He shrugged. “Just wondered if you’d slide one in on me to see what happened.”
“I wouldn’t do that!”
He kept his expression even. “I think you might have a few days ago.”
To his surprise, her cheeks pinkened. “I might have,” she admitted. “But not now. And you,” she added, her tone changing entirely as he let his grin creep through, “set me up for that.”
“Yep.”
For a split second, he wondered if he’d made her angry. If he’d set them back to square one with his teasing. But then she burst into laughter, and his worry vanished, to be replaced by a warm, expanding feeling that made his grin widen.
Still smiling, she said, “You want a challenge, or a horse you don’t have to worry about?”
Was this a test? “Depends. We taking a scenic tour?”
“I guess so,” she said. Then, with a wry quirk of her mouth—he was starting to like that expression on her—she added, “It won’t take nearly as long as it used to, since we’re not the size we once were.”
She said it as if a physical part of her had been removed. And he got the feeling that’s how she thought of it, so attached was she to this land she clearly loved. Losing a big piece of it had clearly hurt.
And seeing her hurt stung him a little, which made him say almost hastily, “How about no worries now, and the challenge next time?”
“Done,” she said, as if she was glad to move on quickly. And without, he noted, contesting that he’d be back.
They walked to a stall about halfway down on the right, and a dappled gray head popped out.
“Well, hi there,” he said, as the horse looked at him with interest.
“This is Shade,” Nic said.
It felt odd to him to even think of her that way, he’d been so careful about not using the nickname. And he felt a sudden qualm about that barrier having been removed. It had been a lot easier to ignore—or pretend to—those big eyes, that soft, kissable mouth, when that wall had been there. The wall of knowing she didn’t like him had been an odd sort of protection. A protection he hadn’t needed before, since no woman stirred him up anymore.
