Page 167 of Things Left Unsaid

“You don’t have to thank me. I should have done it sooner. I promised I’d take them under my wing and I’ve fallen short.”

“Hardly.”

“If you’d seen them with a lasso last week, you’d disagree. I’m pretty sure they’re getting worse.” He rubs his chin. “That reminds me. Cole’s birthday is in a few weeks. It could be a double celebration. I know he intended on coming up but he hasn’t mentioned it.”

“Maybe because I’m here?” I ask, hating the necessity of the words but not wanting him to be blindsided.

Just because he believes me doesn’t mean Cole does.

“I’ll make him come,” is his simple retort.

My cheeks flush. “You can’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to do.”

His gaze settles on mine. It riles me while soothing something raw and ragged in my soul. “Sure I can.”

Before I have a chance to reply, his cell buzzes. He snags it, lips pursing as he scans the screen.

“Problem?” I ask, oddly annoyed that he might have to leave soon.

“No more than usual.” He flashes me a look. “Feel like coming on a ride with me?”

The offer is unexpected but, I can’t deny, appreciated.

I don’t think he purposely withheld the use of their horses from me, but I felt the lack of permission to go horseback riding, nevertheless.

A truck was one thing. The run of the house another. But their horses? That was a whole other level of trust.

At least, it felt like that to me.

“I-I have work.”

It’s a lie. I’m so far ahead with Rachel’s caseload that I’m hoping a Sinner will commit a heinous crime to keep me busy.

He shrugs. “It’ll only take a short while.”

It’s dumb how nervous such a simple request makes me. “I-It’s been years since I’ve ridden.”

“It’s like riding a bike. You don’t forget.”

Much as his humor often does—disarms me—I snort. “Will you put me on a pony so that I don’t have as far to fall?”

The grin sharpens. Wicked amusement flickers in his eyes. “I’ll save you before you fall.”

Why do I believe him?

“Okay.” Giddiness sparkles inside me but I tamp it down as I judge my choice of clothes. “Looks as if I’m inadvertently dressed for a morning on the range.”

This time, the emotion in his gaze has nothing to do with humor.

In fact, it steals the air from my lungs.

Whoa.

Where did that come from?

The room is warm. Not overly so but pleasant. Until that look. The heat in his eyes triggers a visceral response in me. My mouth dries up and my palms feel clammy. I know I’m flushing?—

His cell rings again.

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