back demanding an answer. “Are you hurt?” Then he yelled
to someone behind her. “Call nine-one-one.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m fine.” She made to get up.
“Don’t move. Something could be broken.” His hand pressed to her shoulder ensured
her compliance.
Katie shoved him away. She was angry—angry at him, angry at the men holding her horse.
She grabbed hold of the post and pulled herself up. Seeing a swirl of colors and three
of Cole, she stumbled back. Strong hands steadied her, then with a rough curse, his
arms swooped and lifted her off her feet. Her body warred with her mind, and before
she could decide whether she should snuggle in or throw an elbow, her butt smacked
hard on the tailgate of his truck.
His hands roved over her face, patted her arms, then checked each ankle. Satisfied
she’d live, he let her have it.
“Just what do you think you were doing?” Cole growled.
Once when she was five she saw a tornado. She’d never forgotten how midday turned
to night, and how the clouds gathered like the rolling mist of a witches’ brew. Nothing
good could come from a sky like that. The same could be said of the darkening in Cole’s
gaze.
She should’ve thrown the elbow.
“I’ll ask you the same thing,” she snapped back. “What possessed you to run in there
and scare the crap out of my horse?”
“Your horse?” Cole ground out. “Sorry, but if I’m not mistaken, I was the one who
took on that she-devil. I’ve been feeding her two times a day, shoeing the beast,
and in general throwing my hard-earned money into a pit of no return. And this is
your horse? Don’t think so. She’s mine, and no one rides her.”
She’d argued with Cole before. Usually she won. Out of the two men in her life, it
was Cole who never liked to disappoint her. This time though, fear swirled around
her heart. Cole wasn’t just upset or worried that she’d ridden the horse. No, there
was more to it than that. Rage had its grip on him. She could see it by the pulsing
vein in his throat.
Katie bit the inside of her lip as she tried to hold her ground. “I know how to fall
off a horse. You taught me.”
“Never ride her again.” He didn’t yell, but the quiet was heard just as clear.
She couldn’t agree, so instead looked away.
He clapped his hand around her arm and shook to get her attention—her head snapped
up—he got it.
“Uh-uh, I know that look, but I won’t have it, Katie. You might be spoiled around
here, daddy’s little princess, but this is still my ranch, and my word stands. No
one rides Sweet Thing.”
He released her, turned, and began to walk away. He was done, his point made.
Tears blurred her vision, and she swiped at her eyes. What she had done today was
wonderful. What Sweet Thing and she had was beautiful. He couldn’t take that away
from her. “I’m not like your father,” she said.
Cole stopped walking. “What did you say?”
She was glad he hadn’t turned around. It was easier to show courage to his back. She
gripped her fingers around the sun-heated metal of the tailgate. “I’m not him. I’ll
be careful. You don’t have to worry. I won’t die.”
There was no time to brace for impact. He was there, in her face. “You don’t have
any idea what you’re talking about.”
His lips hadn’t moved when he spoke. Nope, perfectly still, and she knew because he
was close. Closer than he’d ever been.
But her experience with Sweet Thing had empowered her. And she’d won—if only for a
minute. She dead-eyed Cole and stared down the tempest. “I know the guilt eats you
alive. I know you blame yourself.”
They say after the storm there is calm, and she believed it as she watched the ice
in his eyes ease. His lips parted, and she felt his hitched breath against her mouth.
Her heart broke. Here was pain so loud it called a rising in her blood.
“Oh God, Cole.” Her palms cradled his
to someone behind her. “Call nine-one-one.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m fine.” She made to get up.
“Don’t move. Something could be broken.” His hand pressed to her shoulder ensured
her compliance.
Katie shoved him away. She was angry—angry at him, angry at the men holding her horse.
She grabbed hold of the post and pulled herself up. Seeing a swirl of colors and three
of Cole, she stumbled back. Strong hands steadied her, then with a rough curse, his
arms swooped and lifted her off her feet. Her body warred with her mind, and before
she could decide whether she should snuggle in or throw an elbow, her butt smacked
hard on the tailgate of his truck.
His hands roved over her face, patted her arms, then checked each ankle. Satisfied
she’d live, he let her have it.
“Just what do you think you were doing?” Cole growled.
Once when she was five she saw a tornado. She’d never forgotten how midday turned
to night, and how the clouds gathered like the rolling mist of a witches’ brew. Nothing
good could come from a sky like that. The same could be said of the darkening in Cole’s
gaze.
She should’ve thrown the elbow.
“I’ll ask you the same thing,” she snapped back. “What possessed you to run in there
and scare the crap out of my horse?”
“Your horse?” Cole ground out. “Sorry, but if I’m not mistaken, I was the one who
took on that she-devil. I’ve been feeding her two times a day, shoeing the beast,
and in general throwing my hard-earned money into a pit of no return. And this is
your horse? Don’t think so. She’s mine, and no one rides her.”
She’d argued with Cole before. Usually she won. Out of the two men in her life, it
was Cole who never liked to disappoint her. This time though, fear swirled around
her heart. Cole wasn’t just upset or worried that she’d ridden the horse. No, there
was more to it than that. Rage had its grip on him. She could see it by the pulsing
vein in his throat.
Katie bit the inside of her lip as she tried to hold her ground. “I know how to fall
off a horse. You taught me.”
“Never ride her again.” He didn’t yell, but the quiet was heard just as clear.
She couldn’t agree, so instead looked away.
He clapped his hand around her arm and shook to get her attention—her head snapped
up—he got it.
“Uh-uh, I know that look, but I won’t have it, Katie. You might be spoiled around
here, daddy’s little princess, but this is still my ranch, and my word stands. No
one rides Sweet Thing.”
He released her, turned, and began to walk away. He was done, his point made.
Tears blurred her vision, and she swiped at her eyes. What she had done today was
wonderful. What Sweet Thing and she had was beautiful. He couldn’t take that away
from her. “I’m not like your father,” she said.
Cole stopped walking. “What did you say?”
She was glad he hadn’t turned around. It was easier to show courage to his back. She
gripped her fingers around the sun-heated metal of the tailgate. “I’m not him. I’ll
be careful. You don’t have to worry. I won’t die.”
There was no time to brace for impact. He was there, in her face. “You don’t have
any idea what you’re talking about.”
His lips hadn’t moved when he spoke. Nope, perfectly still, and she knew because he
was close. Closer than he’d ever been.
But her experience with Sweet Thing had empowered her. And she’d won—if only for a
minute. She dead-eyed Cole and stared down the tempest. “I know the guilt eats you
alive. I know you blame yourself.”
They say after the storm there is calm, and she believed it as she watched the ice
in his eyes ease. His lips parted, and she felt his hitched breath against her mouth.
Her heart broke. Here was pain so loud it called a rising in her blood.
“Oh God, Cole.” Her palms cradled his
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