Page 96 of Doing Life

Chris piped up with, “Do you have a ranch of your own?” and Lance lost whatever he was following.

“I got a piece of land attached to this one. I even got a gate between us so I don’t have to go around my elbow to get to my ass. Mainly what I do is horses. I’ve got these guys. They live here, and I’ve got a couple of cutting horses. That’s my other job—breeding cutting horses.”

They started down a little incline. Lance could feel it in his hips as they rolled a bit, and he had to try tensing his abs and not clenching his thighs. That was the hard part because that was what his body wanted to do.

“Good job. Good job, Lance. You got this, you’re doing it,” Boone praised him.

“What about me, teach?” Chris hollered. “Tell me I’m doing good.”

Boone groaned, but the sound was filled with laughter. “Don’t make me beat you, son, because I sure will.”

The smile in Boone’s voice suited him to the bone.

They rode on, chatting together, and it had to have been close to an hour, maybe longer.

Lance wasn’t quite brave enough to check his watch to find out, which was stupid, but he was trying to focus, dammit.

One way or the other, it felt like forever.

He wasn’t sure how far a horse could go in an hour, but they had to be way into the property. It didn’t matter.

It was peaceful and fun. They were bullshitting, telling stories. The humidity hadn’t let up, but the sun had some clouds covering it, giving them a bit of relief from the direct heat.

“Are we getting close to the stream, man?” He was dry as the bone. He needed a drink.

“Another ten minutes or so. This is smack dab in the middle of the property.”

“Yeah, okay.” He shook his head, sweat sliding down the back of his neck. “I need a drink.”

“You’ve got water right there. In your saddlebag, just reach down and get it.”

That made sense, sure, but Lance didn’t think he could do it. That just seemed like a bridge too far—to lean over.

“Come on. You can do it. Cowboy up.” Brick’s words made his teeth set, and he damn near growled.

Okay, he could do this.

He could.

Lance stretched to the left, his fingers finding the little buckle. It was like a belt buckle, easy-peasy, loose and well-worn. It wasn’t difficult to snatch it out and open the top, and sure enough there was the bottle and he was going to fall.

He knew he was going to fall.

He could feel himself sliding off the horse, then his fingers found the top of the water bottle. He hauled himself back up, his heart racing, a cold sweat covered him.

“There you go. Good job.”

Like it was nothing. Like it wasn’t just the whole entire fucking world right there.

He breathed deep, trying to settle himself, and frowned, because he could swear he smelled rain, and he could feel a hint of coolness in the breeze all of a sudden.

“Boone, do you?—”

“Shit. I don’t like the looks of those clouds, guys.” Boone cut him off with that.

Lance sniffed hard. “What do they look like?”

“Trouble,” he heard Boone mutter. “We need to find some cover.”

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