Page 26 of Bucked By Love

“Coulda fooled me.”

She twists our hands and flips me her middle finger. I nearly keel over laughing.

That settles it. Riling up Claire is the most fun I’ve had in months.

And I think she’s having fun, too. There’s a smile creeping out like sunshine from behind the storm clouds of her blue-gray eyes.

I give her a spin. When I pull her in, her back is to my front. I drop my hands to her waist. “Loosen your shoulders,” I tell her. “You ain’t on a horse. Relax.”

I can feel it—the effort it takes for her to power down. All those tight-gears in her muscles, all that mechanical training locked in her brain…Claire slowly shuts it off and lets go. Her body works to the music instead, gently melting against mine.

I take her cues. This is her dance. Where she goes, I go.

She tosses her head back against my shoulder. She has her eyes closed. For once, she’s not focused on everyone else. She’s just listening. Moving how she wants to move. Enjoying herself.

I could watch Claire unravel all night long.

21

CLAIRE

The sky is an explosion of pink and orange ribbons by time we make it home.

My short dress does nothing against the nighttime chill. But Ransom’s body is warm as a furnace behind me and I nestle against him.

The closer we get back home, though, the more I feel the prickles of anxiety climbing my skin.

What am I going to tell Daddy about where I’ve been? What if someone saw us? What if?—?

“Hold up,” Ransom says and pulls back on Chaucer’s reins. We’re just a couple paces from the fence to get back into the ranch, but Ransom stops us short.

“Why are we stopping?”

“Turn around,” he says. “I’ve gotta say this to your face.”

It’s not easy to twist around on a saddle. Ransom’s hands on my hips help and I awkwardly shift my leg over the other side. When I settle back in, the curve of the saddle draws me up against him. Our hips bump, legs crossing—I’m practically in his lap like this and I have to put my hand on his shoulder to keep a modicum of distance. “Okay. What do you want to say?”

His hands rest on my hips. Those brown eyes meet mine, only they look strangely intense. “I want to kiss you,” he says. “Are you gonna let me, or are you gonna slap me?”

A fluttering in my chest. A small smile climbs my mouth. “Do I scare you?”

“You terrify me, Bear.”

I nestle in. I press my warm cheek to his. His breath skates across my skin.

When I place my mouth on his, it feels right.

Those lips. Warm. Comforting. Safe. He parts my lips with his and when he claims me with his tongue, it feels filthy in the most delicious way possible. I let him inside. I taste him in turn.

We kiss until the sun pours all its light out.

22

CLAIRE

Claire’s diary, August 24, 2024.

It can’t last.

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