Page 118 of Double Bucked

“You ever been on a horse before?”

Everett stiffens. “How hard can it be?”

Oh boy…

“Alright, quick lesson in two minutes.” I move my hand to his middle, but I hover it in the air. “It alright if I put my hands on you?”

He blinks. “Go ahead.”

I put my hand flat on his stomach. Even through his shirt, I feel his hard muscles clench at my touch. “Keep your core tight here. Back straight.” I take the reins in my hands and give them to him. “Use this for steering.” I give Everett’s thigh a pat. “This is your gas. Squeeze your thighs when you want him to move forward.” I give the reins a tug. “And that’s the brake pedal.”

“Copy that,” Everett says. I can see those pesky gears turning overtime in his head, processing the new information.

Never been on a horse before, and he’s about to enter a polo match.

God, help him.

Our lesson is interrupted by the click of a tongue.

“I’ll be. Riley fuckin’ Ransom. I thought that was you.” The intruder is a neat blond with wiry whiskers on his upper lip, which is currently curled into a mean smirk.

My stomach sours. “Loren.”

We’ve had bad blood for a long time now. Of course he’s come to make my life hell.

He’s already gussied up in his riding uniform. He swaggers over to us. “They let anyone in here these days, don’t they? Hey, saddle up my horse, will you?”

“Do I look like I work here?”

His eyes don’t leave mine. “No. Actually, you don’t look like you belong here at all.”

“How about you mind you and yours, and I’ll mind me and mine?”

“Lauren,” Everett says suddenly from atop the saddle. “That’s a lady’s name, isn’t it?”

Loren scowls at him. “Who the fuck is this?”

Everett just smiles. It’s a haunting, scary thing. “The man who is about to shove the mallet so far up your arse you’ll be picking splinters out of your teeth.”

Loren goes pale. He can give, but he can’t get. He spits on the ground before walking away. “See you idiots on the field,” he says.

Once he’s out of earshot, Everett asks, “Friend of yours?”

I unlock my clenched jaw. “That’s Arris’s son. Son of a bitch, if you ask me. Before I worked at the Preacher Ranch, I used to ride with him some at competitions. His horses were always jumpy. Spooked-like. Be a dick to me all you want—fine. I can take it. But be a dick to a horse? You skip home, go straight to hell for that one. I laid him out for it. He’s been a pain in my ass ever since.”

“Hmm.”

I glance up at him. “You didn’t have to stand up for me, you know. Those are strong words from someone who can barely hold on to his reins.”

Those intense, blue eyes bear down on me. “No one gets to talk to you like that but me. Cowboy up, Riley Ransom.”

He clicks his tongue, squeezes his thighs, and moves his horse into action.

Oh. Damn. Maybe I get it.

This strange heat crawls up my neck as I watch them saunter onto the field.

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