Page 17 of Fall With Me (Sugarland Creek)

Good. Now maybe he’ll leave me the hell alone.

He doesn’t.

But working with a professional trainer like Noah has been my dream for the past two years. It took almost that long to get off her waitlist, so I’m not letting her brother be the reason I don’t get what I want. If putting up with him is what it takes to advance my career, then I’ll deal with it for the short term.

But I didn’t realize he’d be so involved and frustrating.

Or stupidly attractive.

But his looks don’t matter when the urge to be as far away from him as possible is stronger than anything else.

Another day of doing training exercises means another day of Landen trying to crack jokes or get me to laugh at them.

It’s not going to work.

After two weeks of coming here, avoiding Landen the best I can, today I’m stuck with only him.

And though he doesn’t know where my dislike for him stems from nor does he remember who I am from years ago, him constantly pointing out every little thing I do is only encouraging me to hate him more.

“Stop droppin’ your shoulder when you turn,” he tells me. “Your hips are too angled.”

“They are not!” I reply, holding the reins firm in my grip so I’m not tempted to jump off Ranger and use my fists on him instead. He’s been on my ass for the past hour while Noah’s been dealing with an unexpected issue.

He stands tall and confident, looking smug as always. “You shifted too early, which caused Ranger to shoulder. Shift your pelvis slightly so you’re almost sittin’ on your back pockets and it’ll help you stop that habit.”

“My pelvis is angled fine. I have narrow hips,” I tell him.

The corner of his lips tilts up slightly, and I know there’s an inappropriate comment swirling in his mind just begging to come out.

He shrugs unapologetically as if he doesn’t believe me. “Not from my view. Your left shoulder drops on the second barrel.”

“It’s my weaker one,” I admit. “I dislocated it when I fell hard off Ranger about six months ago. Bruised up like a peach.”

“Did you do physical therapy for it?”

“A few times, but it doesn’t hurt. It just pops back out sometimes.”

He furrows his brows, and I know I’m about to get another lecture from him.

“Get down and come here,” he demands, and I hate how his deep, raspy voice puts me in a trance to follow his orders without a second thought.

Another reason to loathe him.

I tie Ranger’s reins to one of the posts and walk toward him.

The training center is massive, which gives us plenty of room for drills and practice, but as soon as I stand in front of him, the space closes in on us.

“Can I touch your arm?” he asks.

I sigh. “If you must.”

He smirks, then motions for me to spin around. As soon as I do, he grabs my elbow and stretches out my arm. “Does that hurt?” he asks while digging his fingers into my shoulder blade.

“No more than usual when the son of Satan is near me.”

He chuckles, then hovers above my ear. “Ooh, baby, careful with that dirty talk. My heart just did that little flutter thing.”

“Sounds like you have a murmur. Might wanna get that checked out before you collapse to your death.”

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