Braving the Storm (Crimson Ridge #2)

Chapter 7

“ B e a good girl for me. Nice and easy.” My voice drops low. “Just like that.”

The mare at my back huffs before obliging my instruction.

Wrapping my hand around Peaches’ leg just above her hoof, I settle her between my thighs, resting over my chaps, and get to it.

There’s always been something about farrier work for me that has appealed. It’s methodical. Tough. Physical. Quiets my mind being around horses for hour upon hour.

Give me a barn full of chuffs and snorts, sounds of munching hay, and rumbles of contentment; I’ll take that shit over interacting with people any day.

But Christ, this is a job that’s hard on your back at the best of times. Being bent over for hours on end removing shoes, cleaning and checking hooves, heating and forming metal, and then fitting new ones… well, after a couple of nights on a far too small couch staring at the wooden beams of the ceiling until dawn… I feel four hundred years old.

My body aches in places I only ever used to know about after the toughest bulls did their worst. Those hellish days in the arena when my glove would get jammed in the rope, or my shoulder would damn near dislocate during a ride, or my leap to the ground as soon as that buzzer went off would jar my whole spine wrong.

Right now I feel just as sore and mentally exhausted as in the height of my pro days.

And as much as I keep cursing myself for it, the reality I can’t ignore, is that I’m distracted as fuck.

Kayce goddamn Wilder, and his pretty boy charm has been all over Briar like a rash since we arrived. She offered to help out with shoeing, without knowing a single thing of what the process involves, but I didn’t feel particularly well equipped to handle being in close quarters all day long.

Not after grinding my teeth all night, getting exactly zero sleep, with a half-hard cock I couldn’t will to go away, knowing she was in my bed on the other side of the fucking wall.

While I don’t want to think about it more than I have to, Kayce is the perfect guy to teach her how to handle herself on a horse.

He’s a professional. Up and coming on the bareback bronc circuit. Kid’s been riding horses and around the rodeo scene since he could barely walk.

So, then, why am I fighting the urge to go out there and be the one to show my pretty little niece a thing or two?

Why did the sight of his hand on her yesterday make my fists ball up and have my molars almost crack with how hard my jaw was clenched?

Why can’t I find it in myself to put Briar Lane out of my mind and back in the box labeled family where she fucking belongs?

I rub my damp brow with my sleeve, then tug my hat back down. It takes everything to stifle the groan that wants to burst out of me as I roll my shoulders and straighten up.

The sound of clopping hooves draws my attention, and coming in through the doors at the far end of the barn is Kayce. He’s all toothy grin, bright blue eyes, and twenty-something swagger leading one of the trail horses.

Ollie is a gentle soul. One of the most chilled-out mares here. Nothing makes her bat an eyelid.

The perfect horse for Briar to learn the basics on.

And when my eyes lift to the girl seated on her back, I’m left forgetting what the fuck I was even doing.

Her cheeks are pink with the cold and the thrill of riding. That mane of long, dark hair is pulled back, with stray curls falling loose around her jaw. But it’s her energy that really grabs me in a pincer hold and refuses to let go. Excitement, satisfaction, and thrill radiate off her, vibrating like a tuning fork. You can’t help but be in the vicinity of someone who has done something for the very first time and loved every moment and not feel that same level of emotion.

That shit is addicting.

I want to drag my eyes off her, I really fucking do, and I know I shouldn’t be watching her so openly. But goddamn.

I’ve seen a thousand women on the back of a horse before. Professional riders, racers, amateurs, you name it.

Never have I been so captivated by the sight of someone like Briar, the way she glows in the saddle. I’m glad I’ve been busy in here all day. Yet, I’m also pissed off as all hell that Kayce has been the one to catch all her smiles and laughter.

She already seems to have changed; one day out here on the ranch will do that to a person. It’s like injecting pure bliss, a concoction of fresh air and vast skies, shot straight into your bloodstream.

Either way, I’m fucked. Because I want to see her looking like this all the time, and yet I have absolutely no right to be the man wanting to help bring that side out of her.

No right at all.

Other than being her goddamn uncle.

So maybe that’s what has me walking toward them, closing the distance, despite everything I know I should be doing to the contrary.

Before Kayce can get his hands all over her again, I step up beside Ollie’s shoulder and give her long neck a pat. Gliding my palm over her glossy cremello coat.

“Look at you. One day on the ranch and you’re riding in like you own the place.”

Briar looks down at me and wrestles her grin into an effort at a playful scowl. Dammit, why does this girl have to be cute and hot as fuck?

For the sake of my crumbling sanity, couldn’t she have at least been boring and stuffy and entirely uninteresting.

“Kayce is an incredible teacher.” She turns to look at him standing on the other side of the horse, all blonde messy hair and perfect white teeth, reminding me of my own reflection a lifetime ago. “God, you were so unbelievably patient with me, thank you.”

“She’s a natural, Storm. City girl here nailed everything the first time.”

Fuck off. He’s not giving my niece cutesy nicknames. There are plenty of other skirts in Crimson Ridge he can chase.

“Kayce, you good to check the shoe I just fitted for Winnie? Front left. Want to make sure you’re happy with how it’s looking, since we know Colt’s a fussy bastard and all.” I settle on the first excuse that comes to mind to get him to piss off. It’s a complete lie. Those shoes are perfect, but she’s housed the furthest away, down the opposite end of the barn.

“Sure, man. Though you know these horses just about better than I do by now.” He hands me the reins, shakes his head, and then heads off, whistling in the direction of Winnie’s stall.

“Let’s get you down. You’ve done the fun part. Now you can do the real work. Help sort out Ollie’s tack and get her fed and watered before we go.” I tap her knee, indicating for her to swing her other leg around.

As I do so, she stiffens ever so slightly. Dark eyes flicker over the hovering position of my hand, quickly up to meet my gaze, and then back to the horse beneath her .

“Don’t drop me,” she mutters.

“Would your uncle do that?” I raise an eyebrow, studying her from beneath the brim of my hat. Why? Maybe I’m testing her, pushing the limits on purpose like this because it’s just how I’m wired.

I’m curious, and I absolutely have to be certifiable that I’m watching for her reaction this closely. To see how she responds when I float that word between us.

“I don’t know if I trust you.”

“Good. So you are a quick learner.”

“Ugh.” She rolls her eyes, but then does as I asked. Twisting her body in the saddle, she swings her leg behind her while holding the pommel.

“That’s it. I’ve got you.” As her weight slides down, I grab hold of her waist, supporting the long drop to the ground.

Fuck, she feels… there’s something so goddamn wrong with me that the minute I close my fingers over her jacket—my jacket, that she’s still wearing since I told her to yesterday, and I’m not ready to face the reason why I like the sight of her dwarfed inside it so damn much—I’m itching to drag her against my chest.

“Thanks.” She sounds a little breathless, and for a long moment, we linger much closer than necessary. Briar’s head is turned ever so slightly to the side, near enough I can see her long eyelashes, near enough that my mouth could very easily brush against her ear if I bent closer.

The things I could whisper to this girl if she were someone, anyone, else.

What devilish promises I would make to lure a gorgeous young woman into doing very improper things with me just the other side of the wooden door to the nearest stall.

Dirty thoughts about her on her knees, giving me those shimmering chestnut eyes. What her pretty pink tongue would look like presented for me, willingly, between lush, parted lips.

As it is, her scent of vanilla and peach rushes through my nose, and my thumbs graze up and down the spot above her waist .

Briar’s shoulders rise and fall, and the seconds drag out. It’s electrified, the air filling the space between her spine, merely inches from my chest, and where her ponytail runs down between her shoulder blades, each invisible molecule almost crackles.

Or maybe that’s the blood rushing in my goddamn ears.

Long curls hang down the back of her neck, and I’m sick and twisted enough to be itching to wrap that ponytail around my fist. Wanting to hear exactly what her breathy gasp might sound like if you tugged hard. Just the way I bet this girl likes to be treated.

Well, shit. I’ve officially crossed another depraved line I didn’t know was there until I ignored everything and sailed right past it. Now I know exactly what is going to preoccupy my perverted goddamn mind all night as I toss and turn on that fucking unbearable couch.

The scuff of boots and Kayce humming to himself jerks me out of whatever trance I’d just been caught in. I cough into my fist to clear the rock lodged in my throat, stepping back to put a healthy—you know, appropriately uncle and niece-sized—distance between us, and Briar ducks her head.

She reaches out to pat Ollie’s neck, splaying her pastel pink painted fingernails wide, but speaks soft enough that only I can hear. I don’t know whether it’s on purpose, or just my imagination, but it seems like she doesn’t want Kayce overhearing her words.

“I’d love to see you in the saddle sometime.”