Page 72 of The Moments You Were Mine
HIM: I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I’m frustrated for Will. Ignore me.
PRESENT DAY
I watched as Fallon rallied theguests and got them back on their horses with an ease that came not only from years of experience but also from that inner confidence she’d always exuded. Her words about love and relationships had hit me harder than I’d expected, especially coming from a womanwho’d spent her childhood feeling loved but not wanted. That strange dichotomy had left permanent marks on her soul.
She wasn’t wrong about relationships taking courage or the fact I wasn’t willing to risk my heart. But it wasn’t just mine I was protecting. I wouldn’t risk her heart—any woman’s, I corrected—when I could see no positive end to dragging someone into this lifestyle with me.
And yet, plenty of my fellow teammates were married. Had kids. Had lives they came home to that helped them forget what they’d seen and done while on assignment, unlike the stale silence that always greeted me when I walked in the door after a mission. But a good chunk of SEAL marriages ended in divorce. Then again, didn’t all marriages? Divorce rates were sky-high across the board, no matter your profession.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about all those little flashes ofwhat ifthat had been taunting me since I’d arrived at the ranch—or the fact it was Fallon I saw at my side in those momentary lapses of judgment.
As the group turned back toward the castle, I brought up the rear again. Fallon stopped less often on the return, letting the guests carry the weight of the conversation among themselves or shouting out questions to her that she answered with knowledge and patience.
The view was beautiful, but Fallon seemed to shine above it all.
She was stunning—casual and at ease, with her aged cowboy hat tipped back to show sparkling, amber eyes. Her muscular arms were on display in a short-sleeve button-down shirt the color of mint ice cream. It was tucked into saddle-worn jeans that showed off delightful curves. Her gloved hands were so light on the reins it was like they didn’t even need to be there.
She belonged on that horse, here in this place, with mountains and streams shimmering around her. The way she and Daisy moved, as if they were one, made it easy to imagine Fallon as a centaur, carrying all the wisdom those mythical creatures were often portrayed as having.
But thoughts of her as a centaur only brought images of her bare from the waist up. Hell, bare completely. Riding a horse naked would hardly be comfortable for anyone, but the image ofher just like that, with her hair flowing behind her as she and Daisy raced across flowered fields…damn if it wasn’t the shit of fantasies.
A loud crack broke the air. A few guests let out yelps. The horses snorted and stomped nervously with their reins jingling. I had to pull my head out of dreamlike images of a naked Fallon before it registered the sound as a fucking gunshot.
Hunters. Did they have hunting excursions on the ranch these days?
When a second blast sent dirt flying at the horses’ feet, some of the guests screamed, and a sudden and overwhelming fear flooded my veins.
Fallon!
Someone was taking shots at her—at all of us—and we were out in the open. Completely exposed.
At the front of the pack, Fallon and Daisy turned slightly as another blast sprayed dirt up her horse’s fetlock.
My chest filled with panic before I locked it down and let my training take over.
“Head for the trees!” I commanded.
Chuck shook himself out of the shell shock first, hollering to the guests to follow him as he kicked his horse into a gallop toward the tree line. Some guests followed, dropping low in their saddles.
Another shot kicked up grass between Daisy and another horse. The woman on its back jerked her reins furiously. Fueled by its own fear, and its rider’s, the horse took off. The unprepared woman slipped sideways in the saddle, dangling half on and half off. The off-kilter weight only panicked the horse more.
Fallon didn’t even hesitate. She simply spurred Daisy after them.
Every instinct in my body screamed to follow her, to get Fallon to fucking safety.
But the ugly truth was that she’d never be safe if I didn’t stop the asshole who was doing this.
Fury had me urging Dandy in the direction of the shots. The far ridgeline was lined with plenty of trees and boulders, providing cover for the shooter. It was at least three hundredyards away, which meant it had to be someone who knew their way around rifles.
Another blast brought more screams and shouts from behind me, and my focus lasered in on the objective—to stop the gunman. I pushed Dandy forward at a pace I wasn’t necessarily comfortable with when I rarely rode these days, but I had to get to the shooter before he killed someone.
Fallon.
Fuck.
What would I do if I lost her?
I shouldn’t have left her.
