Page 70 of Sterling Clay

Clay chuckles. “Maybe it is true.”

“Clay,” I turn on him, feeling outnumbered while not disagreeing with either of them. Scar can rot in hell, or whatever rock he rolled underneath, which is far away from here.

He laughs, leans over and kisses my shoulder then takes a fresh plate of French toast to the table to sit opposite Dutton.

“Change of subject. What are we doing today?”

“Can I surprise you?” Clay lifts his gaze, eyes hopeful.

I smile in return, finding the curve of my mouth comes too easily around him. He’s comfortable.

And that scares the hell out of me.

Chapter 24

[Mavis]

“Horses?” I stare after the stable sign we passed as we pull down a gravel lane leading to a small house with a large barn nearby. The cowboy boots Clay asked me to wear along with telling me to bundle up for some time outdoors now makes sense.

The sky is slate gray and heavy with the promise of snow. The trees are bare of their leaves, prepared for winter which will be here soon enough. The second we stepped outside Clay’ s house, my nose was cold, but my hands are covered in beautiful, soft leather gloves with a thick, warm lining inside them. A surprising and unwarranted gift from Clay earlier today.

Clay chuckles. “Don’t sound so scared, butterfly.” He pauses, running his hand around the steering wheel of his truck. “Haven’t you ever been horseback riding?”

“No.” I choke, before reminding him of my motorcycle upbringing. “I grew up riding on two wheels not four legged creatures.”

“Gonna make you a country girl now,” he teases.

We park near the barn, where one of two panel doors is slightly open. As we exit Clay’s truck, the cool mountain air hits me. Anticipation crackles around me. Clay rounds the back of his truck with a bag hitched over his shoulder and takes my hand. Walking backward a few steps, he leads me toward the barn.

His eyes dance with excitement. “I swear you’ll love it.”

“Being a country girl or riding horses?” I tease.

“Both.” He winks before spinning around and walking beside me. When we reach the barn, he slides the door wider for our entrance and then pulls it closed behind him.

“Hey, Gilbert,” he calls out to a man roughly in his forties.

“Clay.” With a baseball cap on his head, Gilbert dips his chin at us while he strokes the flank of a large almond-colored horse. “Got this beauty ready for you.”

He steps away from the horse and approaches us, holding out a hand to shake Clay’s and be introduced to me.

“Mavis, this is Gilbert Shaw, horse breeder and boarder.” Clay nods at the stoic man. “He’s prepared Honey Rose for you today. I’ll be riding my bay, Terra.”

Clay runs his hand up my back before stepping aside to a stall and petting the nose of a horse who stuck its head through the grate as soon as it heard Clay’s voice.

“Hey, Terra, baby. It’s been too long.” Clay leans forward and kisses the white patch between her eyes before rubbing his hand back and forth over the spot.

“Give me a minute to get Terra saddled for you,” Gilbert says.

“I got it.” Clay leaves me standing in the stable while he momentarily disappears and returns with a huge leather seat. Gilbert opens the stall and leads the horse into the galley way. As for me, I just step out of the way, and watch as Clay coos at the horse, spreading a blanket over her back before lugging the saddle over her as well. She shifts and Clay softly murmurs to soothe her.

He’s a different version of himself. Calm as always but clearly focused on the living creature beside him. Wearing a thick, chocolate-brown jacket with a sherpa collar, and butt-hugging jeans, he’s the perfect image of a rugged outdoorsman. He’s wearing a Seed & Soil ball cap on his head, one that has seen better days but also looks sexy as hell on him. When he moves, his riding jacket shifts, giving me a better view of his backside covered in form-fitting Wranglers. Every time he adjusts something on the horse, his typically rough and deep voice softens while he speaks to such a large animal. His gloved hands smooth reverently over her shiny coat.

His good looks are personified by his gentle touch and tranquil voice. He’s a man who takes great pride in the creatures and people he cares about. Dutton and I are an example of that nurturing side to him as well.

He finally turns his attention back to me after tightening the harness on Terra. “Ready, butterfly?”

I blush, caught in my internal musings and blatant ogling of him. “I don’t know,” I admit. “I thought we’d be riding together.”