Page 10 of Don't Trust the Cowboy

“Seriously. Are you okay?”

“Well, I’m walking and talking, so I’d say that’s proof enough.”

She takes the hint, I think, since she drops the subject, looking down, giving Mazy a pat. “How am I doing?”

“Great. You feel brave?”

Her look is tentative but playful. “For what?”

“Do you feel like riding a little faster?”

She covers Mazy’s ears so preciously. “It’s not going to hurt her, is it?”

I smile. God, she’s cute. “Naw. She loves it. It’ll help her go into labor and she’s overdue.”

“Are you sure? I know that humans aren’t supposed to run when they’re pregnant.”

I lift a finger. “That’s only true if they’ve never run before. Runners are safe to keep on running until it’s uncomfortable, or unless they’ve got other issues.” I pat Mazy’s back. “Come on. I’ll throw a double saddle on and we’ll go for a ride.”

“As long as you’re sure.” She says softly, rubbing Mazy’s snout.

“Darlin’, she’s family. I’d never hurt a hair on her head.” I tell her kindly.

The soft grin on her face says that she believes me, as I lead Mazy back to the barn. As the mounting block comes into place, I lower Piper down, but she lands just so, and we end up nearly nose-to-nose. “Sorry, doll. I didn’t want you to slip out of my grasp.”

Her eyes search mine. “I guess you really wouldn’t want to hurt a hair on my head, either.” She says, her voice low and soft, innocent.

“I’ve never hurt anybody that didn’t hurt me first, darlin’. And that’s the truth.” I say as I take her hand and guide her off the mounting block, ignoring the flutter in my chest and the sudden ache behind my zipper. This girl is off bounds. Not only because she’s now my employee, but also because she’s the last thing I need. Complications. Not a fan. And by the sweetness in her glance, she didn’t feel anything but safety there, and why mess with a good thing. “Here, let me get this saddle on and I’ll boost you back up again.”

“This is fun.” She tells me.

“It’s the most fun I ever have. Especially with this girl.” I pat Mazy on the back. “She’s the best horse I ever knew.”

“I can see how. I’ve only known her a few minutes and I’m already in love.”

That statement makes me stop in my tracks. I look at her, hesitate, and smile. I feel like it’s from my heart, you know? Like someone finally feels as close to another being as I do. Sure, my brothers and I all loved horses when we grew up, but this is different. This girl has never been with one in her life, and by her eyes, I can tell that she’s sincere. But I don’t let myself feel the warm and fuzzies for more than a second. For all I know this girl can turn on her heels and leave me tomorrow, for something better, which wouldn’t be hard to find.

“Let’s get this saddle on, hm?” I tell her, turning away, setting the double saddle on Mazy’s back, as that innocent look remains on Piper’s face. It’s something I haven’t seen in a long time. Not since I was a child. Piper is child-like, and refreshing, and I feel like I can trust her. But I don’t let my hopes show. “You ready?” I ask, not waiting for her response, as I help prop her back up on the saddle and hoist myself up on the front seat. “Now, I won’t go too fast, see. Just a little faster than a trot, so don’t be scared.”

“Okay.”

“You can hold on to that metal piece right there if y’all feel uneasy.”

“Okay.” She repeats. I’m not having her hold onto me, like we’re lovers. It’s bad enough I can feel her thighs on mine from behind, and her breasts are pressed up against my back some. But, luckily, my cock isn’t twitching. It’s trained not to behave like that when I’m in a saddle, and when I’ve got a metal bit butted up against my fucking balls.

“Are you comfortable back there?” I ask her.

“Sure. And you’re sure that Mazy is comfortable?”

“Ah, she loves this. See her tail flicking back there?”

“Uh huh.”

“That pace means she’s happy. A slow flick means good, a fast flick means she’s agitated or can sense danger.”

“When did she sense danger?” She asks conversationally.

I lift my brows and turn my head, so I can see her better from behind. “That, I’m afraid, is a two-drink minimum sort of question, darlin’.”

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