Page 43 of Sweet Like Whiskey

I try not to swallow my tongue as I step into the barn and set eyes on Jackson himself. He’s hefting a saddle onto the black horse I often see him riding. The man is fine.Painfullyfine. His jeans fit him well, his jacket is open, gifting me with a view of his shirt that’s ridden above the line of his belt buckle, and his short beard looks freshly shaved, the reddish-brown strands giving him a rugged appeal not unlike the landscape around here.

It’s a shame to look away, but seeing Shorty saddled up and ready to go, I head his way and give a low whistle. “My main man, look at you.”

Jackson’s head pops up, a bewildered expression on his face before he realizes I’m talking to the horse. I keep my laughter to myself as I greet Shorty, petting the stripe on his nose and letting his nostrils tickle my palm.

I step Jackson’s way next. “Afternoon, Jack.”

His responding, “Afternoon,” sounds like a grumble.

“You look good,” I tell him.

It takes Jackson a second to register that I’m talking to him this time. He grunts, tightening his horse’s saddle.

“Can’t take a compliment,” I say, shaking my head as I offer my hand to the black horse to sniff. “He’s pretty. What’s his name?”

“Starlight,” Jackson says, straightening up and giving the saddle a testing wiggle. “Don’t ask. Remi named him when he was eight.”

“Which makes Starlight how old?”

“Twenty.”

I hum, fingers drifting over the white shape on Starlight’s forehead. It does look almost like a star.

“What’s that?” I ask, noticing Jackson heft two leather bags onto Starlight’s back. They’re connected with a strap such that the bags sit on either side of his spine. Saddlebags, maybe?

“Supplies,” he says. “Just in case.”

“And how treacherous are these trails?” I ask, only half-joking.

Jackson huffs. “Not bad, so long as you stay where you’re supposed to. This is just… It’s nothing.”

Well, that’s not suspicious.

“Okay, Jack,” I say slowly. “Keep your secrets. For the record, I like surprises.”

He shakes his head, lips twisting.

Once Starlight is ready to go, Jackson instructs me to lead Shorty out of the barn. I grab his reins, feeling like a seasoned pro. That is, until it’s time to get up in the saddle.

“Go ahead,” Jackson says. “You first.”

“Are you going to feel me up again?” I ask, sticking my foot in the stirrup. I bounce on my toe, getting ready.

“I didn’t feel you up,” he says, sounding put-out.

“Oh, you did.”

“I didn’t—”

“Did.”

“Christ. Get on the damn horse already,” he gripes.

Huffing a laugh, I pull myself up, the motion easier now that I know what I’m doing. My leg makes it over Shorty’s back, and I let out a triumphant, “Aha!”

Jackson shakes his head, although there’s a smile quirking his cheek as he checks my stirrups. He stills as soon as he notices my boots.

“Do you like them?” I ask, twisting the heel his way.

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