Page 8 of Something Tangled Something True
“What about ‘Asier’? It means ‘new beginnings’ in Basque,” he suggested.
I shot him a side eye. “And how do you know that? Have you suddenly become worldly or learned a new language outside of English and a tragic attempt at Spanish?”
His shoulders shook with laughter before he pushed himself up and over Asier’s back. Once settled on top, his legs straddling the wide birth of the giant horse’s sides, he leaned down, extending a hand for me to take. Ryder’s face was mere inches from mine, my breath catching in my throat, the world growing fuzzy around us as his musky, sweat-tinged scent enveloped me in a heady warmth. My eyes dilated, landing on his lips before his next words shook me from the fog. “I learned it yesterday in History.” A drop of blood pooled at the edge of his lips, my eyes growing wide as he swiped his tongue over it, licking at the fresh wound.
“You’re bleeding! Are you okay?” I gripped his cheeks, inspecting the shallow gash.
“I’m fine. Just a little cut,” he assured me, and I bristled, his warm breath skating over my lips, sending a tendril of something I shouldn’t be feeling zipping up my spine. I rocked on my heels, meeting his gaze. I took his large hand in mine, his fingers wrapping around my palm, eating up any space left betweenus.
I cleared my throat, averting my gaze before we could make a huge mistake that could cost us our friendship. “I didn’t know the football coaches teaching history actually taught anything,” I muttered.
“They don’t,” he said, tugging me up, his free hand slipping around my waist to ease me onto Asier’s back behind him. “We had a substitute.”
“Oh, right,” I answered, dizzy from the press of his skin against mine.
“Hold on tight, Lols,” he whispered, looking ahead as he steered Asier onto the main road. I wrapped my arms around his trim waist, pressing my cheek between his shoulder blades, and relaxed against him. I listened to the steady beat of his heart and the gentle sigh of his lungs as we headed back to the ranch, where we had to explain how we’d just stolen a horse worth fifty grand.
“Lola?”
I shift, blinking rapidly at the sound of my name coming from a much older man than the one I’d just experienced in my memories. “Lola, you alright?”
I shake myself out, my eyes locking on Ryder’s. They’re crinkled at the edges, his brow furrowed as he assesses me. “Where’d you go, darlin’?”
“I was just thinking about when we rescued Asier,” I admit, fully returning to the present.
His smile is broad and gleams in the last remnants of the setting sun, my heart taking flight with the small movement. “That’s one of my favorite memories from high school,” he tells me.
I quirk a brow, knowing I shouldn’t ask but unable to help myself. “And what’s your favorite?”
He gives me a knowing smirk, and I feel as gone for this man now as I was then. It knocks me off kilter, and as I fight to regain my balance, he finishes me off with a simple sentence that shouldn’t meanso much.
“The night you convinced Mayte to help us sneak out to the fair,” he drawls.
My pulse picks up speed, but I do my best not to seem as affected by his words as I am. Steeling my spine, I tear my gaze from his. “That was a pretty fun night,” I allow myself to say.
Tension-filled seconds pass in silence, unable to resist the press of his searing gaze against my overheated flesh. I peer up at him, his eyes searching mine. There’s a faint tremor in his voice as he asks, “Are you here for good, Lols?” His gaze lingers, as if my answer could change everything, the quiet hope in his expression trembling like a delicate thread between us.
“At least for the foreseeable future,” I say, giving him a non-answer to avoid breaking his heart if I wind up being pulled somewhere else. His eyes widen, and the edges of his lips twitch, but he quickly schools his expression, nodding his cool understanding. He’s careful not to show the hope I see brewing in that gorgeous head of his, his lips parting slightly, bright eyes holding mine. I’m thankful for him because if he were to show half as much of the hope I fear he’s clutching, I might allow myself to fall face first into it.
We continue down the path to the stables, catching ourselves staring as if we’re in high school all over again.
Maybe life would be less complicated if we were.
“Is it alright that I’m here?” I ask him, my voice quieter than I’d intended. “I realize I never asked you, and I hear you’ve officially taken over as the ranch manager for your dad.”
Ryder’s bright-blue eyes hold my brown ones. I could swim away in those pools of cerulean. But that’s the thing about Ryder Lockhart, isn’t it? He made me feel fearless, like I could take on the entire world with him by my side, but in recent years, I’ve realized we aren’t living in a fairytale. Life is hard. Shit happens. And Ry can’t change that fact.
“Rosa Ranchwill always be your home, darlin’. Of course you’re welcome here.”
A small smile works across my lips. “Thanks, Ry,” I tell him, slipping into our old, comfortable bubble.Even if I have no right to.
“Anything for you, darlin’,” I hear him say quietly.
After we’ve put the horses back in the stables for the night, I rush to my childhood home, desperate for a full breath of air after riding beside the man I’d spent more years loving than not, dredging up feelings from the past.
It isn’t until hours later that my parents return home from dinner at the main house. It’s not a surprise, seeing as Bee and Harlan have always treated my family as their own.
There’s a light knock at the door beforeMamipushes it open and strides inside, taking a seat at the end of the bed.
