“Thanks,” I say. “I threw the first punch. He assumed I was drunk and pissed about losing. But I wasn’t. I punched him because he deserved it, and I wasn’t drunk. I was as clear headed as I’ve ever been when I made that decision. But he still has no idea that I saw him with Palladium.”
She nods, and then doesn’t press the issue any further and we just keep on riding in silence, the snow wrapping around us with each step we take.
27
CANDICE
More and more aboutNathan Booth is starting to make sense. What he just told me about the night he punched Brad—about the reason he’s at Star Mountain doing community service to begin with—has helped me understand his actions these last few weeks.
He’s not a fighter or a partier or a playboy. At least, he’s not just those things. He’s a man who cares deeply. Whofeelsdeeply. Seeing a horse be mistreated shook him up so much that he didn’t compete as well as he should have. And in order to address the issue, he went right to the source, and punched Brad, consequences be damned. It’s why he’s been so down these last few weeks, and why he’s so negative about his career. He doesn’t trust it, or himself, any longer.
We joke a lot about my brother being the honorable one, but from where I’m sitting, Nathan seems pretty honorable himself. He also looks pretty damn good riding in front of me, with his powerfully muscled thighs gripping the saddle.
“We can take a bit of a break over here,” Nathan says. He gestures in front of us towards a small cabin that is perched between a few trees and overlooking a small, frozen pond.
“What is this place?” I ask.
“It’s an old hunting cabin. But now we use it as a spot to rest if we’re out for a while or just want somewhere to soak in the view.”
We both dismount, and then hobble the horses and get out some food for them from our saddle bags.
“Here you go,” I say to Thistle, feeding her a few pellets out of my hand. She takes them and then lips at my hand for more. I clear some snow with my foot, and then scatter a bunch on the ground for her, and Nathan does the same for Cranberry.
The cabin is dry, if not warm, and it has a perfect view of the icy blue pond. Inside, Nathan lays out the food his mom insisted we take, and we gaze out the window while eating.
“It’s peaceful here,” Nathan says, almost to himself. “I miss this.”
“Your life is lacking peace?” I ask, smiling at him.
“My life is competitions and photo shoots and interviews. Parties and uh, women. At least it was.”
“It sounds like you’re ready for retirement, old man,” I joke, turning to face him in my seat. Like always, I’m struck by Nathan’s rugged beauty. His features would be more at home on a Roman statue than on a human being. And his eyes—my God, his eyes.
“I might be,” he says, though he doesn’t sound convinced.
“Well, I think my life is the opposite of yours. It’s too peaceful. I spend all my time in Star Mountain, and nothing ever changes there. You coming to the rescue is the most exciting thing that’s happened to me all year,” I admit. I don’t mention that staying in Star Mountain, being tied to the town I grew up in, has narrowed my chances of having a family of my own one day. Unless I’m happy to settle for Ralph or one of the other idiots I went to high school with.
An image of a child with the trademark Booth blue eyes flashes through my head.
Shit. I must be ovulating or something.
“Maybe we could meet in the middle somewhere,” he says. “I could take you out in Bozeman when we get back.”
“And you’ll talk to me this time?” I ask, winking at him. It’s a stupid impulse—flirting with him—but I find I can’t help it. I like having all of Nathan Booth’s intense energy focused on me. I like having the charismatic playboy all to myself.
“Only if you talk to me too, Viper,” he replies.
More and more, I’m liking the sound of that nickname from his lips. Where once it aggravated me, now it almost feels affectionate.
“Nathan,” I say softly. “Come here.”
“For a lesson? Here?” he jokes.
“For whatever,” I say. It’s as much as I’m willing to give right now—my heart is still clinging desperately to the fantasy that the lessons are all that is between Nathan and me. That when he’s done with his community service in a few weeks and leaves Star Mountain, I’ll be okay.
I stand up and move towards him, settling myself between his thighs. He squeezes me between them, reminding me of the muscular power that lies underneath his jeans, and starts slowly rubbing his hands up and down my arms. I shiver from the contact, from the delicious sensation of his touch.
“Cold?” he asks.
