Page 13 of Since Day One

“Why do you have a hoof pick?” he asked, still keeping it away from me. Gunnar, too, had shed everything but his button-up, and light glinting off metal drew my eyes down to his massive buckle.

NCHA Champion.

Of course he was, which only made me more desperate to learn from him. “Willow, stop staring at my crotch.”

My eyes shot up. “I was staring at your buckle, dipshit.” I wiggled my fingers, demanding the grooming equipment.

“Answer my question.”

“Because I use it,” I answered, lunging forward for them.

“Use it for what?” He pulled his hand away and pushed against me with his free one. Stretching forward, shoving myself toward the hoof pick, he dangled it just out of reach.

“For cleaning out horse hooves, obviously,” I answered and then threw my entire body toward him. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I caught him off guard, and he stumbled a few steps backward before sitting down hard on the bleacher, his spurs ringing out against the metal. He encircled an arm around me to keep me from falling as I snatched the pick out of his other hand.

“HA!” I exclaimed, wagging it in his face.

And my entire figure stiffened, the instrument dangled in his face as my body became acutely aware of the rather intimate position we were sitting in.

His eyes widened, resting extremely close to my face. Hot breath washed over my skin with every sharp exhale he made, sending prickling across my skin. I was straddling him. My thighs gripped his body tightly while he sat paralyzed in shock with one hand pressed against the small of my back and the other frozen halfway in the air.

“I… I… This… I…” I stuttered as a door flew open. Gunnar and I both snapped our attention toward the entrance where Ruger came stomping into the arena.

“WHERE THE—“ he began, and then immediately dropped his jaw. Standing still, his eyes shifted rapidly from Gunnar’s face to mine, back and forth, trying to process what he was witnessing.

And only adding to the situation, the other two hands just happened to return with a new set of horses in tow. Right behind Ruger. Walking in on a very unexpected sight that would have my mind reeling like theirs had to be. Both their faces reflected the bewilderment that hung upon Ruger’s.

Three men, unable to move, stared at me straddling Gunnar. “This is not what it looks like,“ I finally managed to blurt out.

“Riiiight,” Ruger said, nodding slowly.

“It’s not. I found… There was… Willow had…” Gunnar stuttered.

Ruger, plus the two hands, doubled forward in thick laughter. I was ripped from my frozen stupor by the sudden bellowing coming from the three men standing at the arena’s entrance and began scrambling off of Gunnar, but I stopped as a hand latched onto my wrist.

Gunnar’s hand.

Pausing, one leg over his lap, my brows knitted together at the confused concern etched upon his face. “Is something wrong?” I whispered.

His fingers slowly slid from mine. “That looks nasty.” He pointed toward the side of my rib cage—toward the bruise from the fall at finals, peeking out beneath my raised sweatshirt.

“It’s nothing,” I muttered, shoving the hem down and quickly scrambling the rest of the way off of his lap. His gaze narrowed, latching onto me. He had to want to ask more; I would want to ask more. But instead, he shook his head twice, standing up from the bleachers, and refused to look in my direction. The lightness that had been in my soul fled immediately, a heavy weight filling the space. It hadn’t been my intention to cause this kind of turmoil in Gunnar’s life.

As the three men regained composure, Ruger finally placed a hand over his chest, and then he spoke. “I came to find out why you missed the first ride. But clearly, you had other”—he paused and gestured at me with a broad grin—“things to do.”

Blowing out air, I bit down on my bottom lip as Gunnar tugged his hat low over his head. It was then that light caught the faint grin on his lips. He wasn’t avoiding looking at me; he was attempting to hide his amusement concerning the situation from his brother.

“How’d it go?” Gunnar asked through gritted teeth as he bit back the smile.

“Awful. Except for your Grandma, Willow. She wasn’t half bad at all,” Ruger replied, and my brows shot up in surprise. “It was almost like she’d ridden before. Anyway, the guys are next, and it’s your turn to take them out.”

Gunnar sighed but knew it wasn’t worth the argument and lifted his head. “Alright. Let me get the rest of the horses and tack put away, and I’ll be right over.”

I stepped forward, tucking the hoof pick into my pocket. “I didn’t get to go on the girls’ ride.”

“Yes, because you were here being bossy instead,” Gunnar teased me, and I rolled my eyes.

“So, I can go on the guy’s ride, right?”

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