Page 118 of Saddle Storm

“Take it from me. I almost lost the love of my life because I needed time. You tell him to get the fuck over it or he can go crawl into whatever hole that old friend of his went under.”

I smirk. “I’ll get right on that, boss.”

He nods. “Just don’t tell him I said any of this; this is your mess, you deal with it.” He grins with a wink.

I laugh. “Thank you. For Skye . . . and the advice. Ya’ll are spoiling me.” I stroke Skye again. “I can keep her here, right?”

He shrugs, lookin’ at her. “Of course. It’s her home.” Then flicks his eyes to me with a nod. “It’s yours too.”

37

I get off the phone with my agent with news I’ve been waiting to hear for weeks. The team is ready for physical tests followed by practice participation.

It’s Tuesday and Coach was right—it only took forty-eight hours for them to get these pushed up on the calendar. I thought I’d be more excited, but my mind’s been somewhere else.

I’ve managed to stay away from Storm the last two days. Yesterday, she picked up Max from school, saying she needed time alone with him in case he had “questions” about the night before. I left dinner for them on the counter and was gone before they were home.

I took the opportunity to try and think about all this myself. But my head kept going to Max and Storm. If they talked. How it went. If I could help. Reassure him somehow. Let her know I’m thinking about them. Always.

Shit.

If I don’t take the time to make sense of all this in my head, that extra “minute” I told her I needed is going to turn into a goddamn month.

I run my hand down my face. I need to make peace with it now so I can get back to loving her the way she deserves. So any resentment doesn’t come out to bite when I’m with her. I won’t do that to her—or Max.

I meant what I said the other night, I didn’t come all this way with her to screw up now.

Grabbing my towel, I head toward the small barn to get in the day’s workout.

Storm is outside the stables across the pasture when I see her, sunlight catching on her braid as she moves. Calm. Capable. Like she always is.

Like nothing inside her ever shakes.

I know better than anyone how much of that steadiness is learned. My chest tightens. And she used it to lie to me.

Fuck. I’m spiraling again.

I pull my eyes off her, remembering why I jogged this way to begin with. Needing to burn off this energy.

The small barn is empty, quiet enough that I can hear my own breathing as I loop a resistance band over a beam and brace my boots in the dirt. It’s not rehab stuff anymore—at least it’s what I tell myself. This is a workout. I’m ready. I need to be.

I count the reps more consciously than usual, jaw locked, sweat building fast. Every pull dragging my thoughts right back to her anyway—until the door creaks open behind me.

I glance over my shoulder, already knowing it’s the woman I love.

Her eyes move to the bands, and I know she’s remembering how I used them on her. Hell, my dick is hard just thinking about it.

Something I do often.

She’s holding a coiled rope around her shoulder. And God, she looks sexy in her jeans and plaid shirt. “You cold?” I ask.

“I’m used to it.” She moves behind me and pulls down the bands I’ve set up for myself. “You’re doing it all wrong,” she says mildly.

Before I can argue, she steps in close, taking my hand and looping the rope around my wrist with ease. It’s not tight, but it’s enough to make a point.

My pulse hikes but I’m not about to stop her.

“If you’re going to work out in my barn,” she adds, tying it off with a neat knot then finally meeting my eyes. “Might as well do it right.” She gives the rope a tug, testing it, then tosses the coil over the post, slicing it with a pocketknife before tying it tight. She does the same with my other hand.