Page 57 of Catching Sparks

The shock I feel at hearing that is worrisome. It shouldn’t matter to me.

“It’s called Steele Ranch.”

“Glad to know you can read, boy.”

Kip makes that high-pitched noise again, and I pat his neck. “What is that sound called?”

“A whinny. Kip’s not a vocal horse, but I didn’t take him for a cuddler either until I caught you two, so I guess I don’t know my own horse as well as I thought. Sky’s always talkin’, beggin’ for attention.”

I glance at the tan-coloured horse in the next pen over and shift on my feet. “So, Steele Ranch will be run by someone who doesn’t carry the family name.”

“Every Steele generation before me is rollin’ in their fuckin’ grave,” he replies.

“There’s really no one to take over? No long-lost relatives?”

“I’m not in the business of forcin’ anyone to carry on a legacy this big. To bear that burden. I’ve exhausted all the familial options. Renner’s all I got for now.”

I keep rubbing Kip’s neck. “You ever thought of picking one of the younger guys? Johnny, maybe?”

Wade meets my stare over Kip’s back, now fully saddled. “Johnny lacks the maturity for the work it would take. I haven’t ever seen him take a damn thing seriously since the day he showed up here. I once poured years into teachin’ a man like him every damn thing I know, and it bit me in my ass when he took off on me.”

I shrug, forcing myself to let it go. To not focus on convincing this old man of anything other than what he already believes. Johnny isn’t my responsibility. I don’t know if he’d even ever want what I’m offering him up for.

“Are you going to finally teach me how to ride Kip now?” I ask, changing the subject.

The closing of a car door draws my attention. Wade looks past me at the open stable door, the corner of his mouth tipping upward.

“Right on time,” he says.

I follow his stare, turning and dropping my hand to my side. The beige cowboy hat and auburn braid is the first thing I notice. Then, the pink boots. And finally, everything in between. The thigh-hugging denim tucked into the boots and baggy cream hoodie with the sleeves shoved up to her elbows. I reach back for Kip, needing something to grab hold to as the image of Poppy in front of me rattles my chest.

She grins so damn bright at Wade before shifting her attention to me. That outwardly excited smile calms ever so slightly, becoming almost . . . shy. The impact of that is enough to have me offering a curve of my lips in return.

“You didn’t tell me that I’d be giving Garrison lessons today, Wade. I was prepared for someone much younger,” she says in greeting, emphasizing the final two words. Cheeky.

I fix Wade beneath a stare heavy with suspicion. Maybe he does spend more time with Johnny than I thought. That, or Eliza knows more than she lets on. Either way, this is meddling to the extreme. My mother would approve of it.

“He has the same horseback ridin’ knowledge as a child. I’m sure it won’t be much different,” Wade replies.

I ignore him, focusing on Poppy again. She’s bare-faced, skin glowing in the barely lit stables. Beautiful with little effort. I’m grateful to have Kip to lean against.

“I didn’t know you taught riding lessons,” I say.

“I don’t really. Only when Wade asks me to.”

“Poppy’s been ridin’ on this land since she only came up to my hip. She’s got a special bond with a few of these horses. You should be grateful to have her teachin’ you,” Wade says pointedly.

She flashes him a sweet smile, and my stomach tightens. “You’re a smooth talker, Wade Steele. Eliza is a lucky woman.”

“I’m not sure she’d agree with you some of the time, but thank you, darlin’.”

I clear my throat, a rare blast of territorial bullshit clawing its way through my mind. My face heats at the obvious ridiculousness of not only the possessive feeling but the fact it’s aimed at Wade Steele in the first place. This place is ruining me slowly, tearing apart my hard demeanour piece by piece.

“Are we riding anytime today?” I ask.

Both of them look at me, Wade with a stiff scowl and Poppy with a telling gleam in her eyes that has me grinding my teeth to dust.

“Sure. I’ll catch up with you later, Wade. Let you know how Sir Douchealot does today,” she tells the old man.

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