Page 48 of Sweet Like Whiskey

He holds my eye for a moment before nodding. “From my physical therapists mostly. Just a few things to keep my back muscles loose and my spine in alignment and all that.”

“And you, uh, do those every day?”

“Unless I forget,” he says slowly. “Why?”

I shrug. “Just curious.”

“Mhm.”

“And, uh… How often do you needa do the heat pack thing?”

“Jack,” he says, tone warning.

“What?”

Ash’s expression is stern. “Don’t, okay? Don’t start thinking of me as weak. I know what I can handle, and a little pain isn’t going to stop me from living my life. I don’t need you treating me like glass. I’ve had enough people in my life do that.”

I pull Starlight to a stop, and a moment later, Ash stops, too.

“I don’t,” I say seriously. “I don’t think of you as weak, Ash. Quite the opposite. I just wanna know how you cope, all right? I wanna know what you do, so if there’s a way to help, I can do it.”

He looks at me for the longest time, his eyes raking over my face. Finally, he nods once and kicks Shorty back into motion. I catch up quickly.

“It varies,” he says. “Couple times a week on the heat is typical. I have a low-dose muscle relaxer I take at night if it’s really bad. It helps reset things. Maybe once a month for that. I used to get massages, too, but I don’t know if you have anyone close by that does that?”

I shake my head. Not that I’m aware of.

He shrugs. “So that’s it. It’s…maintenance, you know? Just part of my everyday routine. Like eating or sleeping or jerking—”

His words come to a swift halt, and my body flashes hot.Jerking off. He was going to say jerking off.

Fucking hell.

“There’s literally no way to recover that,” Ash says around a laugh. “So I’m not even going to try. Here we are.”

Ash is the first off his horse, dismounting with barely a hitch. He’s a fast learner; I’ll give him that. I stare after him as he leads Shorty inside the barn, telling the horse what a good job he did today,yes, he did.

I can’t quite get my breathing to even out.

By the time I catch up, Ash is working through how to take off Shorty’s saddle. I help him out, showing him where to put the saddle pads for cleaning and how to store the tack. After that, we spray and brush down the horses, Ash laughing all the while.

I still can’t breathe.

Ash ends up half-soaked by the time we’re done, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s all smiles as we return the horses to their stalls, clean and mostly dried. I show him where the various pellets and grains are and how to read the horses’ feed charts on the outsides of their doors. He scoops the right amounts while I refill their hay.

By the time we’re done, it’s nearly seven in the evening.

“I think I’m due for a shower,” Ash says, picking at his shirt, which is clinging wetly to his skin. His jacket is waiting on a straw bale nearby.

I nod, not trusting my voice enough to speak. My heart keeps pounding, and I can’t stop looking at Ash’s mouth. At his smile.

He wings up an eyebrow, catching my staring. “Unless… Do you want to join me?” he asks, brazen as ever.

Yes.

“I don’t…know if that’d be a good idea,” I say, not sure why I’m still holding back.

Why am I holding back?

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