Page 67 of Breaking All The Rules
Tentatively, Bea reached out and lay her palm flat against the horse’s neck, instantly aware of the taut pillow of warm muscle beneath, the leashed strength. That glorious mane brushed against Bea’s knuckles, and it felt as good as it looked, surprisingly soft and fluffy. “What color is she?” She didn’t look brown or red. Maybe auburn?
“It depends who you ask and where you come from,” Austin said with a smile. “We call her sorrel, but some would say chestnut.”
“Well…either way”—Bea ran her hand down Buffy’s neck—“she’s quite beautiful.”
“You hear that, Buff?” Austin crooned. “You have an admirer.”
Bea almost laughed. The horse was lovely, but the way Austin was with his horse? His soft tone, his gentle touch, and his obvious affection for the animal in every stroke, every glance?
Holy hot cowboy Batman.
Standing in the barn with him in his plaid shirt and his hat and his boots surrounded by farm machinery and the aromas of horse and hay, Bea had to admit that Austin Cooper looked just as good here as he did in his police uniform. Maybe more. Rancher Austin was a whole other level of sexy.
It really wasn’t fair that he kept getting better.
“You love her.”
He nodded, glancing at Bea over Buffy’s neck. “She was my first love.”
“You’re lucky. My first love was Tommy butthead Waterson. We were six and going to get married and sail away on a boat to the Galapagos Islands and live with the tortoises.”
“That sounds cute.”
“It was. Then he callously dumped me for Brandy Baker, whose daddy owned a Corvette.”
“What a dick.”
They grinned at each other over Buffy’s back, and Bea had never been more pleased to not be in LA in her life.
“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s get you on this horse.” Then he made a clicking noise and Buffy, who had resumed eating, raised her head, allowing Austin to grab hold of the reins and lead her out of the barn.
He led them to a very large rectangular yard that smelled faintly of dirt and manure. The fence was made from sturdy wooden posts and wooden crossbars and a wooden top rail that Bea could picture Austin sitting on after a long day on the ranch, his hat pulled low, his boots dusty, a beer in one hand.
Inside was a large oval area that had to be more than a hundred feet across, taking up most of the inside perimeter apart from a small, covered structure with no doors where more hay was stashed along with a bunch of equipment.
“This is where we break in and train horses, and Jill practices her jumps and barrel racing,” Austin said as he opened the gate.
“Your sister-in-law competes?” Which explained the equipment.
“Used to when she was younger. She was on the circuit for a while but hurt her back badly during a fall and gave it up. Clay built her this, and now she trains horses for other people.”
Shutting the gate behind them, he led Buffy to the center of the arena, and Bea followed. The ground was soft, almost sandy beneath her feet, and churned up from multiple hooves.
“Okay,” he said as he bent over a little, holding out his flattened palm low enough for her to step onto. “I’ll give you a leg up. Put your foot here and hold on to the saddle.”
Bea took a deep, steadying breath, doing as she was instructed, grabbing the saddle as she stepped up and, in one smooth boost from Austin, she was straddling Buffy’s back.
The horse moved slightly, causing Bea’s pulse to spike, and she clutched at the saddle horn.
“It’s okay,” Austin assured, making shushing noises and stroking Buffy’s neck. “She’s not ridden much these days; she’s just getting used to the feel of someone on her back again.”
Having just got out from under a bunch of people on her back, figuratively, Bea understood. She eased her grip on the horn, forcing herself to relax, her heart pounding like she’d just mounted a dragon instead of a placid old nag.
“Now what?” she asked.
“I’ll lead her around the ring a few times, give you some pointers along the way, then I’ll let you take over.”
“Okay.” Bea wasn’t sure she was going to be ready to fly solo after a few turns around the ring, but who knew?
