Page 34 of Untamed Heart
‘Worth a try,’ Jesse said as I approached, gathering together rope in his hands. Cole remained a few feet away, present but distant, his eyes following every movement Jesse made.
My first attempt was awful, missing the cow’s head by a mile.
‘Your movement was nice, just need that aim,’ Jesse encouraged, beaming at my attempt. ‘Oh dang it, I need to load up – Cole can take over. Ex-state champion, used to be better than me, if you can believe it.’
Cole raised an eyebrow at his friend, arms still folded.
‘It’s okay, you don’t have to,’ I said, gathering the rope in a clumsy imitation of Jesse as he strode off towards the stalls.
Cole approached slowly, unfolding his arms as he drew closer.
‘Sure I can,’ he replied, voice gentle as he reached for the rope. I handed it over without a word, our hands touching as I did so. Shock registered as he didn’t attempt to move his hand away, seeming to pause instead, brushing my finger with his. I was rendered mute by the same look he’d given me the previous night, the one that had promised a reprise of our first meeting, given the chance.
‘You’re aiming a little too low,’ he said eventually, breaking my trance. ‘Try for the space above the horns instead.’
He stood back from me, lifting the rope up, swinging it briefly over his head before flicking it out and over the cow’s head in one smooth motion. Except I didn’t move my eyes off him the whole time, remembering what I’d seen as he’d left the water the night before. The same vision that’d played over and over in my mind since, along with what might’ve happened if I’d pulled him into my pool, or I’d got out with him.
‘Lottie?’ he said, stepping back, closer than before. I had to lift my head to meet his eyes. ‘It definitely won’t work if you’re not going to at least look at the target.’
Busted.
‘Right. The rope. Aim higher,’ I repeated, feeling like a total pervert and taking it back from him, ignoring the smile under his hat. He knew what was in my mind, just as I could guess the contents of his.
I changed my stance, trying to copy his, trying not to look as awkward as I felt.
‘That’s right,’ he guided, ‘now give it a wider loop and keep your eyes on the horns. Up a little higher . . . yeah, that’s it. That looks good.’
Taking a breath, desperate not to make a total ass of myself, I threw out the rope and hoped for the best. By some small miracle it caught one of the cow horns, before slipping off.
‘Perfect.’
His voice alone threatened to push me over the edge as I thought of being around him for the whole evening ahead. I wasn’t sure how I would cope.
‘Not perfect,’ I replied, shrugging as he walked over to the cow’s head to unhook the rope. ‘Better, though. Probably beginner’s luck.’
He tilted his head, waited for me to brave another look at him.
‘No, I meant . . .’ He gestured at me, my outfit. ‘Perfect. Your roping’s not bad either.’
Now a familiar feature, I blushed again, looking down at my boots in the dirt. Unsure what to do with myself, I chose to keep him talking, keep us talking.
‘Why did you get into roping?’ I asked as he walked back with slow, measured steps.
‘Always done it, since I was a boy. My dad taught me and my brother as soon as we were old enough to hold a rope.’ He came to a stop, his distance from me as deliberate as my attempt to hold back whatever it was between us. ‘My family has a small ranch on the other side of Jackson, right on the state border. It’s nothing like this place, but still plenty to manage. My brother’s in the process of taking over, now that he’s getting married soon.’
‘And bronc riding? Did you get into that young too?’ The atmosphere changed as he frowned, his fist clenched around the rope. I kicked myself, remembering what Jesse had said, that this was likely to be a touchy subject. ‘I’m sorry,’ I started, walking towards him, then stopping. ‘I’m being nosy. You don’t have to answer.’
He stared at me, close up now, the same clear honesty as he’d shown back in the pools shining through again.
‘It’s okay,’ he answered, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘I don’t talk about it much, and maybe that makes it worse.’ He seemed to gather himself and before I could apologize again, added, ‘I started bronc riding young and competed from when I was fifteen or sixteen. I watched Seth, my best friend, die doing it though, three years ago now, so I decided to quit.’
My stomach fell away, a violent stab of empathy almost taking my breath as I held my hand to my mouth. The thought of it, of that happening to Hestia . . .
‘Oh fuck,’ I breathed, hating myself for the pain in his eyes. ‘That’s . . . awful. I’m sorry for making you bring that up. I can’t imagine . . .’
He shook his head, dismissing my apology.
‘You didn’t know,’ he replied, eyeing my distress carefully. ‘Besides, it feels good to think of him sometimes, you know? Away from what happened, back to all the good shit before it. He had a hell of a sense of humour, smartest mouth I’d ever heard, always cracking jokes at my expense.’
