Instead I go with, “Or it’s because he almost got you fuckin’ killed.”
“Except, I know more about horses than him, and I was never getting in that saddle!” she hisses.
“How was I supposed to know that?” I bark. “I hardly know you!”
“Exactly!” She stares at me, eyes sharp and dancing with waves of angry greens before her shoulders fall with a sigh and she drops her voice. “We hardly know each other, Kade. I startedas your social worker, then I was nothing, and now, I’m caught somewhere in the middle, stuck between enemy and stranger.”
I cock a brow. “Pretty sure most people call that a friend.”
Her throat bobs, eyes flicking between mine. “That what I am to you,sunshine? A friend?”
Hell no, is the immediate response I want to shout, but I choke it back. Pretty sure she’d take it the wrong way. And I like the sound of that annoying nickname too much to piss her off right now.
Exhaling, I shake my head, and tug on my hair. “My point is, darlin’, you wanna be somethin’ other than whatever we are, you’re gonna need to know me.”
I gesture at the chaos around us.
“You wanna know what I’m all about? It’s this. The land, the work, these people.” My hand grazes Dusty’s side, my throat catching at the truth of it. “These animals. The crops and very foundation Honey Bea was built on. That’s me.”
“Really? I thought you were a ten-by-ten box filled with dirty laundry, beer cans, and a bad personality,” she says, deadpan.
“Maybe I was all that. Maybe I’m still dragging myself out of the pit you found me in.” Jaw ticking, I glance away, unable to hold her gaze. “But I am tryin’.”
Time stretches in tense, raw silence that grates on my nerves, but when her hand lands on my arm, squeezing softly, it stalls altogether.
“I know you are,” she says softly. “I haven’t known you long, but I see it. Youaretrying for Aurora, and…” Georgia breaks off, and I finally drag my eyes back to hers. “It might not mean much, but I’m proud of the changes you’re making. Aurora will be lucky to have you as her dad.”
My hand grips hers, mouth falling open, brain stuck on the wordwill.
That mean she thinks this’ll all work out?
“Freckles—”
A loud curse cuts through the air. Our heads jolt to the sound just as Wilder sails off his horse, landing ass-first in a deep patch of mud.
Everyone gasps.
The laughter stops.
“Shit,” I snap, already vaulting off Dusty. “I knew you’d be the one to get fuckin’ hurt!”
He groans, head tipped high to the sky. Behind me, I can hear horses racing toward us, probably Hazy, or one of the hands, off to get Frank, the vet who volunteers here.
I skid to a stop, mud coating my calves and boots, and drop to a knee at his side. My thigh protests, but I barely feel it, heart ricocheting chaotically against my sternum.
“Wilder?” I call, scanning his body for obvious injuries. “Man, talk to me.”
Nothing.
“Oh my God,” a woman cries, probably Emmy or one of the randoms. “Is he dead?”
“No!” Hazel shouts, pausing before muttering, “Fuck, is he dead? God, this is going to be all over town.”
“Swear to fuck,” I choke out. “If you survived the goddamned war and got yourself killed by wet dirt, I’m going to light your ashes on fire.”
My hand drops to his throat, and I swallow hard, digging my fingers in to check his pulse. Motherfucker better not be de—
Cold, wet mud flies through the air and collides against the side of my face with a loud splat.
