Page 64 of Beat of Love
They rode side by side through the pasture, cattle scattered and grazing, their heads lifting lazily as the horses passed. Sparrow flinched when a steer moved too quickly, but Brandy sat quiet, hands low, without offering guidance. Rocco gave a low whinny, and Sparrow found her footing, moving forward.
Rattlesnake Bluff loomed ahead, red rock catching the sun, casting jagged shadows along the fence line. The land began to slope upward. Sage and dry switchgrass crunched under hoof, and Sparrow’s steps turned deliberate.
The wind shifted as they reached the base of the bluff, carrying the dry scent of age-old limestone and mesquite. They rode along the fence, Rafferty still in the lead. “We found a couple of strays in the canyon, but the fly-over with the drone couldn’t spot the break.”
About three hundred yards along, they found the slack wire leading into a clump of sagebrush huddled low to the ground, all silvery-green branches and rough, wiry stems, tough enough to outlast drought and wind, and dislodge a fence.
Rafferty swung down, dropping the reins to the ground. “You know the drill, bud. Wait right here.” As still as the fenceposts, head low, Rocco watched him walk ahead.
Crouching, he tugged the wire from beneath the sagebrush. “Clips’ come loose.” He viewed the bush concealing the post and let out a heavy breath. “It’s gonna be a bitch to clean up.”
She dismounted. “Best we get on it, then, cowboy.”
*
Rafferty stood, brushing dust from his jeans. “It’s gonna be sweaty work,” he warned. “You up for it?”
“Do I look like a woman who shies away from hard labor?”
No. You look like a woman I want to press up against the cliff and fuck into oblivion.
But he tamped down the need that had been building ever since he laid eyes on her earlier. Instead, he forced an easy grin. “No, ma’am,” he said, and silently congratulated himself on the lightness of his tone.
Palming the two-way radio, he quickly relayed the supplies they needed. “Ma sent refreshments. We can tuck into them while we wait for the drone.”
“Sounds delightful.”
They settled Rocco and Sparrow a short distance away beneath a group of cedars offering enough clearance for the two to rest in the shade. The green filly seemed to be holding up well, and Brandy-Lyn set out a collapsible bucket and emptied water from one of the canteens she brought.
Unclipping the saddlebag, he pulled free the food Ma had packed the moment she heard Brandy-Lyn was riding out with him.
He spread the checkered cloth across a flat rock and unpacked the feast. Thick sandwiches wrapped in wax paper — slices of peppered roast beef piled high with sharp cheddar and slathered with Ma’s homemade horseradish mayo. Another neatly folded package held two fat chocolate chip cookies, their edges crisp, and centers still soft, studded with dark chocolate and toasted pecans that smelled like home. And to wash it down, a battered thermos of fresh coffee.
Biting into a sandwich, Brandy-Lyn gave a hum of enjoyment. “Damn, this is good.”
He chuckled, uncapping the thermos. The rich scent curled into the dry air as he poured. “Ma says if you’re gonna feed people, feed ’em like you want ’em to stay.”
Their fingers brushed as she took the plastic mug from his hand. Her touch was light, cool against the heat of his skin, and it sent a quiet jolt up his arm.
She looked up. His gaze caught hers.
For a split second, everything else faded.
No noise. No movement.
Just them.
Suspended in a moment.
A man and a woman alone on the edge of the ranch.
Off limits, Trick.
He broke eye-contact and nodded to the small jar of sugar. “For you.”
“Thanks,” she whispered.
He watched Brandy-Lyn fix her coffee to her liking, mesmerized by the pretty picture she made. She had taken off her hat before folding to the ground, and he looked at her there — wind in her hair, sun on her face, the wild Texas land stretched out behind her. He lifted his hand, itching to tug that wayward wisp of hair that clung to her cheek behind her ear when Sparrow snorted, drawing his attention.
