Page 28 of Stick Around,
I bit back a laugh. “Oh, of course. Very restrictive.”
“Exactly.” Kellan tossed his shirt over the fence rail right at me before replacing his hat. “A true cowboy needs freedom of movement.”
Apparently not to be outdone, Enzo circled around, his dark horse responding to invisible commands. He dismounted and unbuttoned his shirt before laying it on the fence. “Itisgetting warm.”
I blinked rapidly, trying not to gawk at the sudden display of tanned muscle. Both men were all dense power, shoulders and arms sculpted from years of ranch work. If I thought about the way their jeans fit, I was sure I would combust.
“Is this... normal ranch protocol?” I tried to sound casual while my brain short-circuited.
“It’s in the handbook,” Enzo replied with a straight face, remounting his horse. “Heat regulation is the number one rule.”
My eyes betrayed me, drifting to Reid, still fully clothed atop Junebug. For a moment, I thought he might be the single voice of reason in this impromptu cowboy calendar shoot.
Then, with a resigned expression that almost made me laugh out loud, Reid slipped his T-shirt over his head and draped it over Junebug’s saddle. Unlike the others, he didn’t look my way or make a production of it. But somehow, that made it worse, or better, depending on your perspective.
Sweet mother of all things holy. This couldn’t be happening. Three hot shirtless cowboys were now circling the arena like the world’s most improbable audition for a romance novel cover, and I was their sole audience member.
“So, Quinn,” Kellan called, breaking my trance. “Notice how Whisk picks up his feet? That’s the movement you were trying to capture with Thunderbolt.”
I nodded, pretending I was studying horse gaits rather than the way sunlight played across three very impressive male torsos.
“The way your weight shifts in the saddle affects how the horse moves,” Enzo explained, demonstrating a perfect transition from walk to trot. His abs contracted with the motion, and I had to remind myself to breathe.
“Right. Horse movements. That’s what I’m focusing on.” I swallowed hard. I was for sure not wondering if I accidentally fell into some bizarre cowboy-themed dream.
For the next fifteen minutes, I was treated to a show of horsemanship that simultaneously felt like the most educational and most erotic experience of my adult life. Kellan demonstrated flashy, crowd-pleasing moves, occasionally calling out pointers that I should apply to my stick horse technique, which, under any other circumstances, would have been mortifying. Enzo showed precision and control, every movement calculated and refined. Reid and Junebug moved as one entity, quiet but mesmerizing in their harmony.
When they finally lined up in front of me, like contestants awaiting judgment, a bead of sweat worked its way down the small of my back.
“Well?” Kellan patted Whisk’s neck. “Expert assessment time. Who wins the La Cuesta horsemanship trophy?”
I put Walter down and walked through the arena gate with mock seriousness. This was ridiculous, but I was committed now.
“Let me see...” I tapped my chin thoughtfully, approaching Kellan first. “Excellent... um... hoof liftage. Very impressive mane flippiness. The horse looks good too.”
Moving to Enzo, I continued my made-up evaluation. “Superior saddle sitting. Remarkable rein-holding abilities. Exceptional synchronized breathing with your equine partner.”
I approached Reid, careful to maintain enough distance from Junebug not to spook her. I studied them for a moment, suddenly at a loss for jokes. There was something about the way they existed together that defied my improvised nonsense.
“Perfect harmony,” I finally said, my voice softer. “Beautiful trust between horse and rider. Extraordinary patience and understanding.”
Reid’s eyes met mine, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away.
I took a small step back, breaking the spell between us. “The winner is clearly Reid and Junebug for their superior... everything.”
“Favoritism!” Kellan protested with theatrical outrage.
“The judge’s decision is final.”
What happened next shocked everyone. Junebug—temperamental, standoffish Junebug—stepped forward toward me. Reid’s hands tightened on the reins as his expression sharpened with concern.
“Quinn, step back,” he warned quietly. “She doesn’t like?—”
The words died on his lips as Junebug stretched her neck out and gently rested her head on my shoulder. I froze, hardly daring to breathe in case she changed her mind and decided to bite my face off.
“What the actual...” Kellan whispered.
Enzo’s eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. “I’ve never seen her do that with anyone… not even Reid.”
