Page 33 of Back in the Saddle

She chuckled, not turning back. ‘I’m a doctor who knows nothing about ranching or farming.’

Hunter jogged up, catching up with her. ‘So, you only like to disagree with me when kissing is involved.’

She pressed her lips together. ‘We’ve been through this. It wasn’t about kissing itself.’

Hunter took his bottom lip between his teeth. ‘What if I asked you for a kiss? Would that be allowed?’

She snorted. ‘Horses, Hunter. That’s what I’m interested in in this present moment in time.’

‘You want to kiss a horse? Well, I wouldn’t have picked you for that kind of woman.’

Even through the dark lenses he could see her narrowed eyes drilling a hole in his face.

‘I told you, there are a lot of things you don’t know about me.’

Hunter’s cheeks hurt from grinning. He couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled this much. Caroline seemed to have brought out the side of him he thought he had put inside a locked bulletproof container. Somehow, it felt like she had found a key and pulled it out. She had no idea what it meant to him.

Learning that she was only staying in Oklahoma until next summer had taken him aback. Not that he thought there was anything beyond flirting and a good time on the cards for them. There was no space in his life for love. He had to keep the ranch going, he had his family to think of. He had his father’s cancer always lurking in the shadows. There was no time left for distractions. Dates themselves could be fun, but dating as in like a relationship wasn’t something he was ready for. And he didn’t deserve to be happy again. Not after what happened the last time. The guilt he felt hadn’t disappeared and he didn’t think it ever would.

He sighed, freeing the unwanted thoughts into the August air.

Reaching the entrance to the barn, he looked to Caroline. ‘Ladies first.’ He sidestepped to let her through.

‘Maybe I was wrong and you are a gentleman after all.’

As she walked inside, her hip brushed his thigh. Hunter swallowed hard as at the place her body touched his – just a small area, through two layers of denim – his muscles tightened, decisively ungentlemanly thoughts filling his head.

‘The Retirement Yeehaw? Please tell me you didn’t come up with this name.’

Hunter’s gaze travelled to the metal lettering at the opposite side of the barn. ‘Sadly, I can’t take the credit. My niece, Morgan, did.’

Caroline walked to the wall. ‘Who took these?’ She pointed to the row of framed pictures in sepia underneath the name.

Hunter leaned against a beam, watching her from a distance. ‘My grandfather, most of them. He’s the one who bought the ranch.’

She slid the sunglasses off her nose, examining the frames closely. ‘Is he in these?’

‘Third photo from the left,’ Hunter replied automatically. He stalked to stand next to her. ‘It was the first time my father placed in an event. Calf roping.’

Young Alan Jackson was smiling into the camera, an older man wearing a proud expression standing beside him. The photo was missing a corner, it always had. Someone must’ve ripped it before Hunter found the old albums in the basement when they were building this barn. Four full albums of photos and rodeo trophies. He had asked his father what he wanted to do with them. Alan had waved his hand, saying he had forgotten all about these. He’d told Hunter they could go in the bin. They weren’t important.

One evening two summers ago, Hunter had gone through them with Buck and Megan. In the flickering light of citronella candles and to the melody of cicadas, they’d chosen their top twenty. Alan sat on the porch, rocking in the chair and watching them with an expression Hunter couldn’t decipher back then.

A week later he told the family his cancer was back.

Hunter drove to Purcell with the box of photos, got them framed, and put them up on the newly painted wooden wall in The Retirement Yeehaw. When he’d brought Alan to see the place after it was finished, they were both lost for words: Alan from thick tears, Hunter from the visceral knowledge one day soon these photos would be the only thing left of his father.

‘You look like him.’ Caroline’s voice brought him back to the present. ‘You have the same cheekbones and nose.’

Her elbow brushed his.

He tugged on the collar of his shirt. ‘I’m flattered you studied my face closely enough to notice.’

He felt her posture tighten. ‘What can I say, you have a pleasant face.’

‘Decent kiss, pleasant face … I sense a pattern here. Don’t think there’s any chance of my ego getting too big with you.’

Caroline chuckled, turning to face the row of stalls. ‘I’ve been told before I have a grounding influence.’

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