Page 82 of Tough Love

“You tell me if you are in pain, please?” I say.

“I’m not in pain. Just a little stiff. Please don’t.” She walks away, heading for the spot where Ned is now pulling out the tents and Mick is tending to the horses. But my gut sinks. We pushed too hard. And she is going to pay the price for Harry’s stubbornness. The last half of the roundup is the hardest.

An hour later, after a walk around the mob, I return to the camp site. Ned has the fire roaring and the stew bubbling away. And Addy... Has Mick talking to her.

Well, fuck.

“So, you did a stint in the Navy? That’s amazing.”

“It was a long five years, that’s what it was, Addy.”

Addy?Is there anyone this woman can’t charm? I stifle a chuckle and school my face before sitting beside her. “Mick.”

“How come you never told us Addy was a show jumper?” Ned asks.

Addy goes quiet, eyes tracking to the fire.

“Not my story to tell, Ned. Besides, I am almost one hundred percent certain you would have many tales to entertain us without Addy having to offer up her life stories.”

“Well, that is true.”

“They asked why my hips were bothering me,” Addy says absently.

When she turns back, there is only happiness and fatigue in her eyes.

“Oh.” I hold my hands toward the fire, hoping to thaw them out after walking around in the freezing night air for over an hour.

Addy takes the bowl of stew Ned holds out for her. “Thanks, Ned. I’m starving, must be the cold.”

“Nope, that’s the mountain air,” Mick offers.

Ned hands me a bowl and a spoon. “I’m sure it is.”

It warms my fingers instantly. When his gaze lingers on mine, I wonder what he is trying to tell me. Something, no doubt. Old man wisdom is no foreign concept to me. I live with it every day. Harry. Reed.

“Can you check on my horse, Addy? I think she might have a stone bruise. Her gait was a bit stilted when we got up to the hollow.”

“Sure. What about your horse, Mick?” she asks.

“No change that I’ve noticed. Thanks.”

“You let me know if you want me to give him a once-over. I’m happy to be of assistance. I’m starting to think I’m only a tagalong at this point.”

“We are happy to have you along, Addy. Lord knows you’re much better company than that smart-mouth Morley. Can’t stand that little shit,” Mick says.

Ned hollers a laugh, and I can’t help but chuckle. Addy laughs, soft and light. It is a stark contrast to the rough men she sits with. And warmth wraps a soft hug around my heart.

She grins, taking in the faces of the older men that sit in front of her. Her freckles pop on the apples of her cheeks. Her curls tousle in the cold breeze where they flow from beneath the beanie she has on.

Ned glances between us then slaps his leg. “Well, this old man is done. I’m turning in.” He rises and dips his hat to Addy and nudges his friend beside him with a foot. “Mick, you going to bed?”

“Oh, yeah.” He startles, and when Ned tilts his head in a not-so-subtle gesture our way, Mick clears his throat and stands. “Night.”

The fire crackles. The only sounds are the lowing of the cattle and the rustling blankets and groans of the two men in their tents as they relax their weary muscles. And when soft snores come from Ned’s tent, I turn to Addy. But she rises and moves to the horses. She runs a hand over Ned’s horse before checking each hoof in turn.

When the mare doesn’t show any signs of a stone bruise, she takes to feeling each leg from top to bottom. I rub a hand up the mare’s face and she nickers into my side, lowering her head. When I look back up, Addy is standing in front of me. Sliding her beanie off, she runs a hand through her hair.

I force air into my lungs. “You feelin’ okay?”

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