Page 49 of In Full Bloom

It seems impossible for Katie and I to be on the same page. Every time things are going well I stick my huge foot in it.

And things are going well now, so I definitely don’t want to screw it up … again.

“Are you sure?” Katie asks, her voice quiet.

It takes me a moment to bring my mind back around to what I’d said.

I asked her to teach Sadie to ride.

“Yes,” I murmur, feeling my lips brush against her skin and refusing to move my head to prevent it. The sensation is too good. The throbbing vanishes in that brief moment, overwhelmed by the feeling of desire shooting down my spine and coiling in my belly.

“I’m going to check with you again when you aren’t experiencing blood loss.”

“I’m fine.” I tuck my face into the crook of her neck. At this point she doesn’t even flinch because I’ve been all over her like a rash since she managed to get me on Scout.

At first it was just me trying to ignore the fact I was on a horse, but then she started running her fingers through my hair, like she wanted my head resting against her shoulder, my face pressed into her skin.

Now, I never want to stop touching her. I never did. Not after our first night—as much as she tried to play into the prissy city girl persona to piss me off—and not since.

“Whatever you say, cowboy.” She pats my cheek.Her thumb rubs across my jaw and I have to purposefully think about me riding a horse right now so I don’t think about Katie riding me.

Maybe the blood loss is worse than I thought.

“You’re right,” I say. “She needs to learn.” I lift my head and glance around. A wave of nausea hits me.

“We’ll talk about it later, okay? Just hold on for now. We’re almost back, then Vi can take you into town.”

“Violet’s not there.” I squeeze my eyes shut and drop my head again. “She took Sadie to school and was getting a few things while she was in town.”

“Shit,” Katie mutters.

“I’ll be fine,” I say. I don’t want to acknowledge what’s going on with my arm under Katie’s shirt.

I was cutting a piece of alkathene water pipe with my knife, because somehow I’d forgotten the proper tool when I headed out this morning.

The blade slipped and sliced up my forearm.

I barely had the chance to glance at it, let alone inspect it, before the blood came. I slammed my hand over the wound, pressing down to slow the bleeding, but every time I tried to release the pressure so I could reach for my phone, the flow started again.

I don’t want to remove the shirt and have to actually deal with the consequences of my stupidity. I can still move all my fingers, so I’m hoping everything inside my arm is okay and it’s just a shallow wound.

“You’re absolutely not fine,” Katie says and I know she’s rolling her eyesat me.

When we reach the main farm track leading back to the barn, Katie fishes her phone out of her pocket with her free hand. She’s ridden the entire way back one handed, totally relaxed like she doesn’t have a care in the world. Her free hand has ranged from resting atop my own, still keeping pressure on my injured arm, to running through my hair, and—my favourite—gently resting against my face.

Katie has a quick phone call with Olivia, letting her know I’m alright, and when we reach the driveway, she draws Scout to a stop next to the house.

“Time to get you down, cowboy.”

I freeze. Getting up here felt impossible, and I’m all for getting off the horse, but it also means releasing Katie. It means this moment we’ve shared, without pissing the other off, is over. I don’t want to let that go.

My arms tighten involuntarily around her waist. I press my forehead into her shoulder again, with a little more pressure than earlier. I allow myself one, two seconds like that, then slowly relax and lift my head.

“Thank you, Katie,” I murmur against her neck.

She shivers again, goosebumps rippling across her skin. “Hop down, get in the ute. I’ll drive you to the hospital.” Her tone is almost neutral. Almost. There’s a slight tremor there, like she’s not shivering because it’s a chilly morning and she’s only wearing a bra with her jeans.

I release my arms, letting my good hand trail across her stomach as I draw it back, then I slip my leg over the horse’s rump and slide to the ground.

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