Page 58 of Then You Happened
“And I told you my name isn’t . . .”
“As of right now, it is.” His comment is simple, but his gaze, which travels the length of me as I stand in my stirrup to dismount, says a thousand unspoken words.
The slow curve of his smile is a seduction in and of itself.
The thunder cracks just above us, and Ruby rears up before I can get ahold of the horn, and I’m launched off her and right into Jack’s arms.
If it weren’t so scary and startling, I probably would have laughed at the romance-novel-worthy set-up Ruby just gave me.
But I don’t.
Because our bodies are pressed together, our breaths are labored, and time feels as if it moves in slow motion.
Seconds feel like minutes as we stare at each other; the impending kiss something I can all but already feel.
“Third time is definitely a charm,” he murmurs, the heat of his breath hitting my lips.
“Looks like you got yourself thrown from a horse there, Tatum,” Sylvester’s voice comes out of nowhere, and I shove back from Jack. My eighty-one-year-old helper smiles crookedly as he moves toward us.
My jittery hands move as if to pat myself down and make sure I’m okay.
But I know there’s only one thing right now that’s going to fix the nerves, and that is the man whose warmth still lingers on my skin. The man whose knowing smirk is angled my way.
“Yes. It’s the thunder. You know Ruby,” I blather.
“Aye. She’s a fickle girl,” he says, stepping right into the space between Jack and me as if he didn’t just see how closely we’d been pressed together. He runs a hand up and down her nose as we both watch, letting the sexual tension ease.
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Pat down over, I roll my shoulders and wince.
“The rain bugging your shoulder?” Sylvester asks.
“What’s wrong with your shoulder?” Jack asks, eyes narrowing.
“Nothing.” I brush it off and turn to get ahold of Ruby’s reins.
“She was in an accident a few years back. Driving right out there if you can believe it,” he says and points to the front of the ranch. “She had just made the turn at the end of the road and was about two hundred feet or so from turning into the ranch. Some drunk yahoo almost hit her head-on. She swerved. Crashed,” Sylvester relays.
“It’s nothing big.” I shrug, hating any kind of attention when it comes to the accident or the rumors it caused. According to Fiona and her gossip, everyone in town was convinced that I’d crashed on purpose because I wanted attention and Fletcher wasn’t giving me enough. Hell, they are probably still convinced of it.
“Nothing big? Fifty miles an hour into a ditch is more than nothing big. Broke her shoulder in a few places when the car rolled. Pins and everything in there,” he drones on when all I want to do is end this conversation.
“Shoulder’s fine, Syl.” I offer him a tight smile and go to open my mouth when Sylvester continues.
“Had some bad cuts. That’s what them scars on her chin and neck are from,” he continues.
“Those are fine too. You can barely see them,” I say, desperate to get the attention off me.
“Was the other driver hurt? The drunk?”
“Just like a drunk driver to escape unscathed.” Sylvester snorts. “Never even veered off the road. The asshole spun out and kept going. They had a BOLO out for a dark, four-door sedan, but nothing came of it.”
“Probably some kid. Got the shit scared out of him and straightened up,” I murmur, but the terror of that night is still as fresh in my mind as the night it happened. The bright headlights swerving toward me. The jerk of my steering wheel as the edges of the pavement grabbed my wheels and pulled my car over. The crunch of metal. The hiss of pain. The smell of destruction.
Jack watches me though. “You let me know if you need help lifting stuff.”
I wave him off. “I’ve been doing all the heavy lifting around here for some time now. I think I can handle it just fine.”
