Page 12 of Hard Bred

Throughout the day, we tackle the endless list of ranch tasks. Brady shows me a better way to wrap legs, his hands guiding mine as he demonstrates the technique. We work on fixing a section of fence that needs replacing, our bodies moving in synchronization as we lift the heavy posts. At one point, he brings me a cold bottle of water without me asking, and the small gesture of thoughtfulness makes my heart flutter.

The physical work helps keep me grounded, but my mind keeps wandering. When we eat lunch together, I imagine us sharing our meals every day. When he tells me about the improvements he wants to make on the ranch, I picture us building that future together. When he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch gentle despite his roughened hands, I imagine a wedding band on his finger—and a matching one on mine.

It’s crazy. I know it’s crazy. For all I know, Brady just wanted one night of fun. Or maybe he’s interested in something casual. Thelast thing I should be doing is planning our life together in my head. I’m too old for this kind of teenage daydreaming.

But then he’ll smile at me in this new way—soft and private, like we share a secret—and my heart just doesn’t want to listen to reason.

As the sun starts to set, I gather my things, not wanting to assume anything. Despite my longing to spend more time with the man I’m so utterly taken by, I know the smart thing is to go home, get some distance, try to sort out these overwhelming feelings.

“See you tomorrow, Brady,” I say casually as I head out. “Have a good night.”

Brady looks up from where he’s checking feed levels. There’s a moment’s pause that makes my heart stutter. And then he says, “Or you could stay for dinner.”

My stomach does a backflip, but I manage to keep my voice light. “Trying to prove you can cook more than just eggs?”

He laughs. “Something like that.”

I pretend to consider it, like my heart isn’t trying to beat its way out of my chest. Like I haven’t spent all day wondering if he’d ask me to stay. “Well, someone should make sure you don’t burn the place down.”

“Is that a yes?”

I nod, fighting back a grin that would give away just how happy his invitation makes me. “Yep. It’s a yes.”

7

BRADY

The days after Claire first stays over blend together, one flowing seamlessly into the next. We fall into an easy rhythm that shouldn’t work, but somehow does. She still shows up early each morning to help with feeding, but now she often brings coffee for both of us—mine black, no sugar, just the way I like it. Sometimes she stays over at night, sometimes she heads home. We don’t discuss it, just let it happen naturally.

The ranch work gets done—better than ever, if I’m being honest. There’s something about working alongside Claire that makes the days flow smoother. She’s got a way with the horses that rivals my own, especially with that skittish new gelding. Just yesterday, I watched her coax him into accepting a blanket for the first time, her voice low and steady, her patience unwavering. All the while, I was grinning like an idiot, just watching her work.

At night, when she stays, we share simple meals in my kitchen. Nothing fancy, just nourishing food and good conversation. But it’s the quiet moments that really get to me—the way she absentmindedly runs her fingers through her hair while readingone of my horse care books, how she hums under her breath while doing dishes, the soft sounds she makes in her sleep. She’s even started leaving a coffee mug in my cupboard, and her favorite blanket on my couch.

God, I love the little pieces of her scattered through my space.

As for the physical side of things.…Christ. Every time I think I’ve got a handle on how crazy attracted I am to her, she’ll give me this look or brush against me just so, and I’m done for. With every day that passes, my need for her burns hotter than ever, and she answers my fire with her own. Last night, I buried my cock deep inside her while she unabashedly rubbed her clit, the moonlight illuminating all of her curves. We came together like it was the most natural thing in the world, her pussy squeezing me tight while I exploded inside her.

But there’s always that underlying question, the one neither of us seems ready to voice: What the hell are we doing? Where is this headed? Some days it feels like we’re building something real. Other days I catch myself wondering if we’re just setting ourselves up for a world of hurt.

As December creeps in, bringing shorter days and colder winds, my thoughts turn to Christmas. Logan and Sierra are hosting this year—even with their hands full with the twins, they insisted on it. I should be focused on that, on being a father and grandfather. Instead, I keep thinking about Claire. I keep wondering what it would be like to wake up with her on Christmas morning, to watch her face light up as she opens the gift I picked out for her—a pair of gold stud earrings I know she’ll love.

But it’s complicated. She’s got her grandmother to think about, just like I’ve got my family. And even though Logan and Sierraknow about us, Claire and I haven’t exactly defined what “us” means.

The subject is still weighing heavy on my mind when Logan and I head out to fix the heating system in the barn. The weather is turning nasty, and the last thing we need is frozen pipes with a barn full of horses.

“Pass me that wrench,” Logan says, his voice muffled from where he’s wedged behind the unit. I hand it over, watching my son work.

“Been thinking about Christmas,” I say, and clear my throat. “Might be nice to have Claire and her grandmother join us. If you and Sierra wouldn’t mind.”

Logan pauses, then emerges from behind the unit. There’s a knowing look in his eyes that reminds me he’s not a kid anymore. “That so?”

I shrug, suddenly feeling like I’m the one being figured out. “Just a thought.”

“Dad.” He wipes his hands on a rag, giving me his full attention. “What’s really on your mind?”

The question hangs there between us. I take my time answering, running a hand over my jaw.

“It’s Claire,” I admit finally. “This thing between us…I don’t know what I’m doing.”

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