Page 42 of Major Love

His large quad brushes against my knee, the warmth from his big body sending a thrill up my thigh.

“Must get a hell of a lot of riders coming on through Nashville,” he continues, his stunning eyes on the snow-capped mountains as he rocks gently in the saddle. He hesitates for a moment before adding, “Had to show you what I’ve got.”

I steal a glance up at him as I squeeze the reins, trying to quell the butterflies at his compliment.

“Where did you learn how to ride like that?” I ask, because those moves looked like they belonged at a rodeo.

He looks down at me for a lingering moment before lifting his gaze back to the sparkling pines, his breathing steady.

“You know where I learned to ride like that,” he rumbles quietly, and this time his thigh presses more firmly against mine – an apology for even bringing up the unspoken.

Because of course I know where Jason learned to ride like that.

“I can’t believe that you’re not in the Army anymore,” I admit, unable to stop myself from saying it now that it’s open in the air between us.

His chest rises as he grips his reins. “Thought Case would’ve told you.”

I shake my head and murmur, “I guess he didn’t think that it was his news to share.”

Jason’s eyes flash to mine, a million unspoken thoughts burning behind them.

And then he urges his stallion to round my own until we’re looking at each other face-to-face.

“For what it’s worth,” he says, “I tried to get that information to you. Didn’t know if it would even make a difference, but I wanted you to know.”

Unrestrained surprise makes my eyes widen, my lips parting as I look up at him.

He tried to find a way of letting me know that he’d left the Army?

“How?” I rasp breathlessly. “How did you try to let me know?”

But just as he moves closer, something wet hits my skin.

I glance toward the beautiful afternoon sky and my eyebrows shoot up my forehead.

And just like that the heavens break loose.

My eyes flash straight to Jason’s and he meets my surprised laughter with a chuckle of his own.

“Of all the days to not wear your cowgirl hat,” he growls teasingly, helping me turn my stallion around and riding beside me toward the barn.

“It was a bright morning!” I exclaim, laughing uncontrollably as we’re totally pelted.

Not wanting our beautiful stallions to slip, we have to go slower than we’d want to, meaning that, within mere seconds, we’re soaked to the bone.

“I mean, at least we’re wearing chaps,” I say, having to practically holler as the rain turns to hail, but then I’m stalling my sentence as Jason begins to remove his cowboy hat.

“W-what are you doing?” I call over to him, but he grips my reins and hauls me closer, rain pouring down my cheeks and chest as the winter onslaught continues pounding.

His eyes stay trained on the slick ground ahead, totally focused on steering the horses.

Then he shoves his other fist in my direction, holding it out to me. “Take my hat.”

I stare up at him in shock before blinking down at his hat.

I mean, I appreciate the offer, and I understand his chivalrous reasoning. My hair may already be drenched, but that’s not the purpose of a cowboy hat, anyway. It’s to prevent the elements from hindering your sight – like when it’s chucking it down in the valley and you need to steer a multi-million-dollar stallion back into its stable.

But I tighten my fingers around the reins and holler, “Jason, I can’t take your hat.”

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