Page 32 of Saddle Storm

“Storm, it doesn’t take much for me to do the math. You’re twenty-seven. That kid’s nine. When did this happen?”

She stalks forward. “Thought you said it doesn’t take much for you to do the math.”

“I’m serious, Storm.”

She turns, her eyes flaming. “And I am too when I say it’s none of your goddamn business. Now if you’re not here to help me, please leave.”

“Like hell it’s none of my business,” I mutter. And there isn’t a bone in my body that doesn’t believe it. I knew there was something special about the kid. Something that drew me to him and of course, he’s Storm’s. How could I not see it? The freckles, the nose, the eyes. The imagination.

Sucking her teeth, she stalks over to me and hands me the lead rope for the calmer horse. “Hold Cupid.” Then she moves to the other stall and prepares the white pony. Winter or Poppy or whatever Ellie plans on calling her.

“Storm,” I call, following her with Cupid as she walks Winter out of the barn toward the pen.

“Silas, drop it,” she hisses, snapping her head back. “I don’t know who you think you are showing up here and asking questions, but this isn’t your arena, it’s mine. And I need you to leave me alone.”

“Need or want?”

“The hell’s the difference?”

“I’ll tell you. I needed to stay away from you in high school. But I sure as hell didn’t want to.”

She flips back again, eyes narrow searching mine. But she gives up quickly. “You get one question and make it quick.”

I watch her with a quiet ease, trying my luck. “Are you free for dinner tonight?”

She rolls her eyes. “Not only is the answer to that no, it’s Sunday––you have your family dinner tonight at Wilder’s.” She grabs Cupid from me as if to say she can take it from here and steps into the training pen with Ellie and Max waiting.

For the next forty minutes, I watch her with the kids and ponies, teaching them how to hold a line, how to move with intention instead of force. Every so often I catch her glance over at me, where I’m standing with Tucker. Stroking him gently. He isn’t as responsive to me as he is with her, but at least he’s not huffing me out of his space. Then again, maybe he’s just too mesmerized with Storm to bother with me. She’s patient in her quick lesson. A kind you can’t fake. Which is impressive given she wasn’t expecting me to show up with her kid in my car tonight. And the exhaustion that’s still clear in every inch of her.

My phone vibrates and I check it quickly.

Dallas: You OK?

Silas: Feeling kind of stupid for snapping at you, but I’m sure I’ll get over it.

Dallas: So about that, can we talk about it soon?

Silas: Did you need something?

Dallas: Dad asked if you’d like to invite Storm and Max to dinner at Wilder’s tonight.

Silas: Thanks, no. And I’m skipping tonight’s dinner. Taking them out instead.

Dallas: She agreed?

Silas: Shot me down flat. But I’ve got a secret weapon.

Dallas: Do NOT use the kid. She won’t like it.

Silas: Then I’ll sit out in the penalty box and be back on the ice before you know it.

I smirk, knowing my cocky attitude always drives him crazy.

Dallas: Silas, this isn’t the way.

Silas: Neither was marrying the stranger who broke into your house just to win custody of your daughter, yet here we are.

There’s a longer beat before he responds.