Page 13 of Bucked By Love

His hair is the same, though. That untamed, rusty mess that hangs over his ears.

My lips press together. “Let go.”

He just grins, gripping my ponytail in his fist. “No.”

“I’ll scream.”

“Is that a promise?”

I take in a deep breath, filling my lungs. He releases me, and my hair sways back against my shoulders.

“Riley,” I say.

“Claire,” he retorts. He tilts his head. “I go by Ransom these days.”

Ransom. The last of his kind. I guess it’s sweet, in a way.

I pull in my lips and correct myself. “Ransom. You’re still pulling pigtails, I see.”

A grin plays his lips. “And you’re still playing in the kiddie pool, I see.”

I narrow my eyes. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs and hooks his thumbs in his pockets. “I can show you a real swimming hole. When you’re ready to graduate.”

“Claire!” Mary-Kate shouts from the river. “Leave the Sooter alone!”

I can feel Loren, our chaperone, glaring at us from down the way.

But Ransom’s brown eyes meet mine.

Challenging me.

I’ve been a lot of things in my life, but I’ve never been capable of walking away from a challenge. I cross my arms over my chest.

“Show me.”

Ransom leads us down the river for nearly a mile. Mary-Kate complains the whole way.

Since he’s the only one on foot, I let him hop on Calypso. He fits his body onto the saddle behind me and winds his arms around my middle to take the reins. Calypso, who hates everyone except me, is strangely obedient to his lead. We sway with the motion of the horse and his body feels hard and strong at my back.

The further we go, the rougher the river gets, shushing loudly against the pointed rocks. Finally, we come to a stop at the Old Road Bridge.

It was bright red, once upon a time. A way for the train to get from one side of the river to the other. Now it’s rusted out, abandoned to the grip of ivy. Cars still cross it, but it’s the kind of bridge you hold your breath when you’re going over.

Ransom slows Calypso to a halt. He dismounts and his hand finds the small of my back.

“I’ve got it,” I tell him. Not like I haven’t dismounted by myself a thousand times before.

“I know you do,” he says. He uses his grip on me to help me down anyway. When I step off, our bodies brush again, and the closeness of him sends a strange chill up my arms.

Ransom, Mary-Kate, Loren, Elsbeth and I walk down the bridge. The old wood seems soft under my feet. We get midway down the bridge and Ransom leans over the railing, looking down, so the three of us follow suit.

The river opens up into a small lake under the bridge. The water is darker here, deeper, but I’m not sure how deep.

Loren spits off the side. His white glob floats lazily in the river.

Ransom unbuttons his plaid shirt. His chest has definition these days. And a light shadow of hair. He hangs his shirt over the railing, then shucks off his boots and his jeans.

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