I lean in closer to him, pressing my body against his side. He’s warm, and I can feel it even through my layers of wool and fleece. My whole body flushes and comes alive at the touch.
“Beg,” I whisper. “On my knees.”
I move away from him before he can react and leave him in the stall with a dumbfounded look on his face.
Fucking with Nathan Booth might just be my new favorite hobby.
Nathanand I like the same type of music.
I discover this as soon as we get on the road. He asks if he can choose the music and I give him a non-committal answer, secretly dreading that he’s going to put on something I hate.
But instead, he chooses a mix of soulful country, bluegrass, and folk, including both male and female artists, which truly surprises me. You don’t find many guys who love female country singers, and this fact alone has me reassessing the misogynist accusations I lobbed at him in the past. I’m driving and he’s singing along to Brandi Carlile in the passenger seat. It’s probably the sexiest thing I’ve seen him do (aside from when he ravaged me with his mouth yesterday), and his voice isn’t half bad either.
“I’m surprised you like this,” I tell him.
“You shouldn’t be, Viper,” he says.
“Well, not many men like female country artists.”
I keep my eyes squarely on the road, my hands at ten and two, even though I desperately want to watch his reaction.
“I’m not most men,” he says. “Besides, my older sister loves this stuff and she runs the ranch so whatever music she has on in the office and house is what we all have to listen to.”
“She runs the ranch?” I try to keep my tone neutral so as to hide how interested I am. I feel like I’m uncovering new parts of Nathan every day and I want to hold each one close, turn it over, and examine it. I find that I want to know what makes him tick. What has him so confident and cocky one moment, and vulnerable the next.
“She does,” he says, offering no further explanation.
Okay then, I think. I guess Nathan’s family is another topic he’d rather not talk about.
“What’s she like?” I ask anyway.
He’s quiet for a moment and then says, “She’s strong. Unshakable. A force of nature when she needs to be.”
“I’d like to meet her,” I say. “Sounds like a woman I’d get along with.”
“You two in a room together would be hell,” he mutters, but I can tell he’s kidding.
I’m getting used to Nathan’s quirks. The things that make him himself. I can hear when he’s smiling. I can tell, from just a glance, what type of mood he’s in. This familiarity should feel strange, given how much animosity I normally have for Nathan, but I’m finding that it doesn’t. It’s been a long time since I had someone new in my life. For two years, it’s just been me, Beau, Jenny, Lila, and Tomás—plus Winnie, of course. Nathan is new and even though we still butt heads a fair amount, hanging out with him is fun.
“Well maybe one day I’ll meet her and we’ll get the chance to torture you together,” I say.
“I’d like that, Viper,” he says.
After a moment of silence, Nathan turns the music up and we both start to sing, my wavering alto mixing with his strong bass. I keep my eyes on the road rolling out in front of us, and the miles pass by with ease as we near the turn off for Calamity River, the town we’re taking Jazz Apple to.
Every so often, Nathan passes me my water bottle or a handful of pretzels, making sure I’m fed and watered as I drive. He’s such a horse person—it’s in the way he’s seeing to my needs without me asking. By the time we get to Calamity River, I’m more hydrated than I’ve ever been and I’ve eaten my weight in snacks.
22
NATHAN
Candice lookslike she’s about to cry as she strokes Jazz Apple’s face a few final times. We’ve unloaded her, spoken to the family who is adopting her about all of her needs, and introduced her to the kids, who instantly fall in love with her. They each feed her a small piece of apple and squeal when she gently takes it out of their tiny hands. Jazz Apple already seems interested in the other horses, and she’s looking around her new home curiously.
But I can tell that Candice doesn’t want to leave her. That if she had her way, Jazzy would get back in the trailer with us and come home to Star Mountain. Her face is slightly pinched, like she’s trying to control her emotions. But I know her well enough to see them plainly written on her face—it’s like her heart is breaking.
“We’ll miss you Jazzy,” she says softly, while Chris and Alix, the couple who have adopted her, are busy getting the kids inside. I think they could tell that Candice needed a private moment. “You’ve come so far since last year,” Candice continues. “You’re healthy and strong now, and you even like hanging out with people and going on adventures. You’re going to do great here.”
Jazz Apple presses her muzzle into Candice’s chest, and even though I know that horses don’t say goodbye the same way we do, it still feels like she understands what’s going on. They are incredibly sensitive creatures, so maybe she does.
