Page 14 of Rolling Thunder

She looked over her shoulder at him with a grin. “Sorry you came?”

“No, this is the coolest thing I’ve done in a while.”

She nodded her approval. Once they were through the creek into the orchard, there was room for the horses to walk side by side. Bonnie slowed down out of habit to let Clyde catch up. When he moved too close to her, she pinned her ears at him in a mild threat.

“Bonnie,” Kayla said in warning. The mare shook her head a little and stopped threatening.

“So this is what you do? Take idiots like me out on rides?”

“Part of it. I work with other people’s horses for training too. But trail rides for the tourists is usually steadier money. I have a few students for riding lessons too.” They finished the orange grove loop and headed back toward her farm.

With the horses, she was confident and sure. It was really the only part of her life where she felt that way. She showed him how to untie the cinch knot to release the saddle from his horse’s back.

“You have to lift up before you pull the saddle toward you, or you’ll yank on his spine.” She went to her own mare. “See?” She demonstrated, hefting the huge saddle up and then off.

She glanced back at him, but the look in his eyes suggested he wasn’t thinking about the horses right then. Still, he followed her lead, lifting his saddle up and off Clyde. She could feel his gaze on her back as she showed him to the tack room to stow the saddles.

He followed her back to where the horses were tied in the wash rack. Bonnie pinned her ears at Clyde again, shaking her head a bit in what even apparently Evan could tell was a threat, because he backed up a step.

“Bonnie! So help me, God, if you bite him for nothing, I will beat your ass,” Kayla snapped. Bonnie straightened up and put her ears halfway forward. If a horse could roll her eyes, Bonnie just had.

“You’re sexy as hell when you talk smack to the horses,” he said, and a bubble of laughter erupted from her. After hosing the horses off, Kayla turned them loose onto the grass to dry in what was left of the fading evening sun.

He caught her at the back wall of the barn and crowded her in for a kiss. All that sass and confidence went straight out of her. Her breath hitched and her palm defensively fell flat on his chest. But with a caress of his fingers against her jaw, he coaxed her instead of plundering. Her hand on his chest relaxed. She yielded to him. The unspoken conversation was easy. He swept both hands into her hair, holding her still as he kissed her. A little shudder swept through her, her body surrendering to him even though her brain did anything but.

Her thoughts were like a million lottery number balls bouncing around in the glass dome waiting for one to fall out to decide her fate. It was an even toss-up between fear and desire. Which would be the winning number?

“Come on, I’ll walk you home on my way out,” he said softly in her ear. They strolled up the driveway hand in hand. Like before, it was unexpectedly comfortable. Out of the corner of her eye, she read his relaxed body language. He kissed her softly at the side door of her house, without expectation. In the absence of anger or sexual demands, she was left with a fluttering glee. It was like a tiny, brand new butterfly emerging from a cocoon, stretching sensitive wings into a gentle breeze. She smiled at him, and he returned it. When she let herself into the house and pressed her back to the door, her face felt hot. Her hands were shaky, but this wasn’t fear. It was excitement. Happiness.

No sooner had Evan closed the door behind him at home than a scratch sounded on the other side. A few moments passed, and then an impatient “woof” came. He opened the door, irritated, to the smiling face of the black Lab-ish mutt who took up residence on his porch after he had fed her a pizza crust. Crazy Jimmy said that he’d seen someone dump her out of a truck and leave. Her timing now was such that he could only assume she’d been out in the dark somewhere waiting and watching for him to come home. Despite his hope not to get attached, the thought of her sitting out in the dark waiting for him squeezed his insides.

“Didn’t I tell you you can’t come inside?” he chided the dog, who cocked her head as if listening intently, then darted past him into the air-conditioning.

“You ate my razor, you crazy fucking dog. I don’t want you in here!” She hadn’t actually eaten it, or she’d probably be dead, but she had chewed up the plastic handle past the point where it could ever be used again, and managed not to hurt herself somehow.

He sighed and put down a bowl of water, which she readily drank from, then dunked her face in up to her eyes, slinging water all over his kitchen floor. He really wanted to hate her. She was such a pain in the ass. But she was just so cute and happy, despite having been dumped out of a moving truck on a country road and left to fend for herself. He had to admire her resilience. When it came right down to it, he just didn’t have the heart to turn her away. He poured her a bowl of kibble he’d picked up at the feed store, and she got to work on that. She was still pretty thin.

Despite the dog scampering about his kitchen looking for something to get into, Kayla was all he could think about, and he was annoyed with himself for it. What was it about this girl? They didn’t all stick in his head like a song he couldn’t stop playing. Maybe her reluctance was part of the allure. He’d never had any trouble getting a date or getting laid if that was what he wanted. She was different. She seemed interested, but also scared. She seemed conflicted in more ways than one and, for whatever reason, committed to maintaining her lonely existence out on her farm. Maybe if he could just fuck her, he could get her out of his system. That smile she’d given him before he left was like sunlight after a month of rain. He’d do anything to see it again. Especially to be the cause of it. She was beautiful anyway, but that smile lit her up like magic.

Her place was in rough shape. He could tell that just from riding by. He’d asked his neighbor about it. He said it had sat empty for a few years after the old lady died, while the courts and the banks argued about it, before it had finally gone to Kayla. Beyond that, nobody wanted to say too much about Kayla, other than snickering that she was a “hot little ticket.” Evan didn’t like the sound of that, coming from outlaw rednecks like those. It also didn’t fit with the girl he had held and kissed, who had trembled in his arms in the dark. The contradiction was addictive, and he longed to figure her out. After watching her move about the barn, he finally had the chance to memorize the feel of her while he kissed her. The thought of being balls-deep inside her felt like his blood was gasoline and a match had just dropped, sizzling through him. He envisioned her delicate trust of him and the sounds she would make when he rewarded her with pleasure.

But there was enough uncertainty in her response tonight that he knew it wasn’t happening yet. Even now, the memory of letting her go seemed to intensify the fire in his blood to the point that he was burning from the inside out.

Some nights were a long torture of staring heavy-lidded into the dark. The clang of bars echoed in his head. The murmuring of trapped men, pacing like caged tigers. Sometimes he sat out on the porch and just listened to the thick song of the swamp at night. With a fresh rain, the frogs would come out and sing an incredible cacophony of joy, for their habitat had just become the whole world. The black was deep and damp and alive, not like the stale concrete night of prison, always smelling faintly of piss, bleach, and fear.

The dog would lie at his feet, sometimes with her chin on the top of his boot. It was the only time she would usually ever let him touch her. She was a warm, breathing reminder he was finally free. The black night of the swamp was so rich with sound and texture that even with his eyes closed, he could sense that it went on forever, and he wasn’t trapped. He could breathe. Tonight, he pictured Kayla’s smile.

But his past was like a stain on him forever. What girl would want to date a man with his history?

At first when she questioned him about club affiliations, he’d been relieved. Some girls were drawn to the clubs, drawn to the patch holders. They wanted to live that dangerous life and be arm candy to the most dangerous man in the pack. She’d been clear that she wanted no part of it. God knew neither did he, and she became more interesting to him for it. On the other hand, it also meant if she ever found out who he really was, she would probably never want to see him again.

CHAPTER 6

Thanks to Canyon Bill, Kayla had a fully functioning round pen again. So far, her only actual thanks to him had been to not throw him off her land. She could see vaguely through the trees that he was still camped over there. She heard his motorcycle coming and going from time to time.

Today, she had a couple coming by for a trail ride. There was an orange grove down the road that allowed her to bring guided rides through. She stepped out onto the side porch, and goddam if Canyon Bill wasn’t out there working on her barn. She marched down the crushed-shell driveway in flip-flops, which were useless in a barn, but faster to put on than boots.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

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