Page 51 of Stables

Libby flashes me a broad smile. “Nope, you can barge in like that any time you want.” She sits cross-legged on the cushion next to Char.

When Paisley pops her head up between them, I feel like I’m on a stage with an audience.

Time for me to go.

“I’ll head to the house for a bit. Call if you have any troubles while I’m gone.” I pull the handle closed when I move outside, closing off the sea of blue eyes that followed me.

The rungs of the ladder seem to stretch on as I climb back into the top of the barn. I might as well finish moving the hay so I can shower at home.

I feel better knowing Char has some company. She needs all the help she can get. I can’t be there for her all of the time.

But the twinge in my gut tells me that I want to be.

That the burn of the ropes of these bales across my palms isn’t enough to erase the memory of grasping her arms when she nearly collapsed in front of me.

The prickly stems digging into my fingers do nothing to offset the smooth softness of her lip when I stroked it with my thumb last night.

Fuck.

Now my pants are getting tight.

Last chunk of alfalfa hits the stack, so I snag my shirt from the pile and head to my Toyota.

As I navigate the windy road to my place, the cold ac blows some sense into me.

Char is young, broken, and vulnerable right now.

The last thing I should do is put her in a position to make a decision she feels pressured into.

No matter how badly I want to throw her ankles over my shoulders and pound her until she shatters.

That escalated quickly.

My nuts ache by the time I pull into my driveway.

I’m better than this. I know how to control my thoughts, my reactions, my every movement.

Why does she make me lose that?

The heat of the sun is temporary until I push inside the cool, dark interior of my Spanish villa-style home.

For the first time since I built it, it feels foreign, empty.

Like I don’t want to be here.

What the hell is that about?

Two blue sets of eyes, and a set of green stare at me from the table in the hall.

Mason had gifted me a picture of Sawyer, Sophia, and his newest son, Jack.

It makes me think of the conversation we had on range the other day.

Would it be so bad to have my own kids?

Paisley’s photo would fit perfectly next to theirs, with plenty of room for more.

Seeing how much love and happiness Char exudes every time she sees her daughter sends a strange twitch through me.

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