Page 26 of Ride Me Reckless
Before I knew it, the plate was empty, and the edges of the night had started to blur. My eyes burned. My limbs were heavy.
I curled into his side without meaning to. He pulled a thin blanket from the top bunk and tucked it around me.
His voice rumbled low against my ear. "Sleep, Tess. Get some rest before you have to leave for your next gig.”
And I did.
For the first time in a long, long while.
Chapter Seven
The Line Drawn
Colt
By the time I finished brushing down Windstorm, the sun was sinking low over the ridge. He shifted under my hand, restless, flicking his ears toward the music starting to drift in from the house.
Kenzie’s parents had gone all out to celebrate her eighteenth birthday. A bonfire was stacked and ready, and string lights were strung like stars over the fence line. Red solo cups were already in half the hands in the backyard, and the sound of someone firing up the karaoke machine early was deafening.
Windstorm had been stabled here for the last few weeks, ever since Kenzie's training schedule kicked into overdrive. She needed daily access, and I figured it would be easier for everyone if he stayed put. Normally, I'd have charged a handsome rental fee for one of my prize horses, especially one with Windstorm's record. But hell… after hitting the Powerball, what was the point?
Didn't mean I handed over the reins completely. I still came by every day, made sure Windstorm stayed sharp, and made sure Kenzie didn't push him too hard. Not that she needed much coaching anymore. The girl had grit. Fire in her blood. But it wasn't just her riding that had me uneasy tonight.
Something about this whole damn party set my teeth on edge.
Windstorm snorted as I moved to his flank. "Yeah, I know, boy," I muttered. "Too much noise for your liking too."
The truth was, I needed the quiet. The rhythm of grooming, the scent of leather and horse sweat, the familiar feel of calluses against a curry comb—it gave my hands something to do besides ball into fists every time I thought about her.
Tessa.
Hell.
I could still see her from a week ago, straddling me in the trailer like she was riding out a storm she didn't want to outrun. But it wasn't the sex that hit me the hardest.
It was the way she'd cracked. Mid-thrust, mid-breath, mid-sob—whatever you'd call it. She fell apart in my arms like something had finally snapped loose. Like she'd been holding her whole damn self together with dental floss and denial.
And I'd held her. No questions. No fixing. Just… held her.
But it haunted me more than I wanted to admit. What kind of pain did she carry that she'd rather break in silence than speak it out loud?
I pressed my forehead to Windstorm's shoulder for a second, exhaling slowly. "Still gets under my damn skin," I muttered.
The sound of an approaching vehicle behind me made Windstorm jerk his head. I turned as Rhett's truck rolled in, country twang leaking from the open windows.
He jumped out, grinning like a man who'd already had two beers and was looking for trouble. "Don't say I never bring you anything, old man."
He tossed me a cold one. I caught it without much grace.
"Didn't ask for a party."
"You also didn't ask for Kenzie to turn eighteen, but here we are."
I shot him a look. He didn't flinch. Just popped the top off his own bottle and leaned against the stall door.
"Kenzie's not subtle, Colt," he said after a beat. "You're gonna have to figure out how to let her down easy, or she's gonna get hurt."
I didn't answer. Just turned back to Windstorm and ran a hand along his mane. The gelding flicked his tail and settled.
