Page 66 of Beat of Love
“Sure,” she found herself replying. Because,dammit, Rafferty Lawson fascinated her. And she wanted to watch him rediscover the man lurking beneath the tattoos and hard veneer.
“See that thicket of hackberry beside the cottonwoods?” he asked.
Yep. She must’ve imagined the flash of heat. His voice was flat as a board. “Yeah?”
“From there, it’s a quick five-minute gallop to an old hangout. Race you?” Rafferty lifted a brow in challenge.
She had never ventured beyond the thicket, sticking to well-worn trails when working her young horses. “You’re on, cowboy,” she said, turning to move toward the gap.
“Let’s show ’em, Sparrow,” she said, digging her heels in. They raced past the thicket, hooves pounding the hard-packed earth. Sparrow flattened her ears and surged beneath her, stretching into her stride.
The meadow opened wide ahead, sun flashing on the rippling grass, the stand of live oaks huddled dark and steady in the distance.
Low over the saddle horn, Brandy gave the filly her head and let her run. The world narrowed to the thunder of hooves, the slap of reins, the deep burn in her legs. Breathless, laughing under her breath, she pushed harder. Rafferty was a streak at her side, his gelding eating up the ground, but she didn’t spare him a glance.
The trees rushed closer, and she leaned forward, willing her mare to fly. At the last moment, she sat deep and hauled back on the reins. The horse hesitated, then skidded to a halt with a squeal of protest, back legs sliding out before she regained herself.
Rafferty reined in Rocco, the gelding’s hooves barely touching the ground before he came to a smooth stop.
Sparrow stood still, huffing, ears flicking back and forth. Brandy pushed her hat back, breathless but smiling. The filly hadn’t nailed the stop, but she’d tried. And for now, that was enough.
Following Rafferty’s move, she gathered the reins and dismounted, ignoring the slight wobbliness in her legs. It had been a while since she had ridden so hard. “Well done, Sparrow,” she praised, giving the filly’s nose a gentle rub. She turned to Rafferty as he walked closer. “You held Rocco in check.”
He grinned. “Maybe. Had to boost Sparrow’s confidence.” He shifted his focus to the filly, his gaze softening as he looked into her eyes. “You did good, darlin’,” he whispered, his voice low and sincere. Sparrow whinnied softly, nudging his shoulder with her nose, and he let out a low laugh. “What’s this, huh?” Rafferty said with a grin, scratching Sparrow behind the ears. “You flirting with me now, girl?”
Brandy felt a flicker of something suspiciously close to jealousy —surely not?— watching the easy way Rafferty interacted with the filly. Baffled by the tightness in her chest, she blurted out, “You wanted to show me something?”
Eyebrows pulling close, Rafferty’s gaze caught hers. “Yeah. We’ll leave the horses here.” Indicating to a weathered pole, he added, “You can tie Sparrow to the post,” and ducked beneath a crooked low-hanging branch.
She deftly secured the filly and followed him beneath the thick canopy of live oaks. The broad, leathery leaves clung to the gnarled branches. Sunlight filtered through the dense cover above, casting shifting patches of light across the ground, and she gave a light shiver at the sudden dip in temperature.
Rafferty stopped. “It’s still here,” he said.
“What—” She gasped, pulling up short. “A treehouse!”
“We used to play here as kids.”
But there was nothing old and weathered about the square platform with its ladder-like steps. “It looksnew?”
“Yeah. It does.”
Curious, she moved past him toward the steps, calling over her shoulder as she placed a foot on the first rung, “You coming?”
“Right behind you.”
But there was something in his voice that made her hesitate. She paused, then released her grip on the ladder and retraced her steps toward him, giving him a thorough once-over, taking in his pale features, the tight line of his lips, and the subtle tension framing his eyes. Something was off. “What’s wrong?”
He blinked rapidly. “I … I can’t …” The words faltered and died, his chest rising and falling in shallow, ragged breaths. He knocked his hat from his head and raked a shaky hand through his hair, his movements rough and unsteady.
Then she understood, and it hit her like a punch.
The jungle.
Without a word, she stepped up to him and slipped one hand to his back, the other to his arm, and gently guided him out from under the canopy’s shadow into the bright sunlight.
“You’re safe, sugar,” she said softly, moving to stand in front of him. Cupping his face, she continued in the gentle tone, “You’re in Texas and on the ranch and you’re safe.”
His eyes met hers, and the unguarded terror in them gutted her so hard it stole her breath. It was like watching someone bleed out from the inside. Her throat tightened, hot pressure building behind her eyes, but she shoved it down. Now wasn’t the time to fall apart. “What do you need from me?” Sheer willpower kept her voice steady, despite the storm roiling through her chest.
