“I like her is all,” I say. “More than I thought I did. We get along really well.”
“As more than just a friend?”
“I’m figuring that out,” I say. That’s a lie, but it’s one he will believe. I already know that whatever it is I feel for Candice goes so far beyond friends.
“Don’t say a word to her about it until you figure it out and are sure of yourself,” Beau says.
“Why not?”
“Because Candice wants a relationship about as badly as you pretend you don’t want one. And if you start something with her and don’t mean it, it will break her heart.”
This isn’t new information. It doesn’t take a genius to realize that Candice Wilson has a huge heart, but also a fragile one. And Beau is right—I do pretend not to want a relationship. But it’s for my own happiness as well as for hers. I’m sure I’d just ruin things if we tried.
“You’re assuming she feels that way about me back. But I’m pretty sure she doesn’t.” The words hurt to say but at least they’re honest. Candice has never indicated that she views our arrangement as anything other than casual and convenient.
“I know my sister. She’s not nice unless she means it. There’s no artifice with her.”
“Does it bother you, though? The idea of the two of us being…uh, friends.”
“No,” Beau says simply. “You’re a good man, even if you don’t think you are. And my sister is a grown woman who can handle herself. If you hurt her, she’ll land the first punch and then I’ll finish you off.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Candice comes back into the kitchen, bright eyed and dressed for riding in the cold. She has a bandana tied under her Stetson to keep her head warm, and her hair is in two long pigtails. She looks so happy, so perfectlyher,that it makes my heart ache.
“What?” she asks me. “Why are you staring at me?”
I am in love with Candice Wilson.
I am in love with her, and I can do nothing about that fact but stare at her with my mouth slightly agape.
“Nathan?” she prompts.
I quickly collect myself and say, “Nothing. Let’s get going.”
But I catch Beau’s expression from the corner of my eye, and I know he’s seen my feelings written all across my face. Instead of looking pissed, though, he’s got a small smile on his face. Huh.
Candice and I walk outside, the thin layer of snow crunching under our boots as we make our way from the house to the barn.
“I don’t really want to train Brown Sugar,” I say.
“And I don’t want you to help me with social media.”
“Should we go for a ride instead?” I suggest.
“Definitely,” she says, smiling. “But let’s make it a race.”
“What does the winner get?” I ask, though I have a pretty good idea as to where her mind has gone.
“The loser gets on their knees for the winner.”
Fuck. Win or lose, I’ll be one lucky bastard.
“Deal.”
We grab Ballantine and Maggie from their paddock, and lead them inside to tack them up. Ballantine seems completely at ease with the mare, and it’s nice to see him so settled here. It might be time to start training another reining horse—Ballantine might be happier spending his days outside munching on grass and being free to do whatever he likes.
Candice and I both buckle on some chaps in the barn. Hers are dark brown and wrap around her thighs snuggly, highlighting her round peach of an ass.
