Page 44 of Major Love

He sets it gently on my head before tipping back the brim, towering over me as he searches my eyes.

Raindrops cascade down his strong cheekbones but he’s completely unaffected, only briefly lifting his free palm so that he can shove his hair off his tan forehead.

“Thanks,” I say gently.

He grunts. “Don’t mention it.” Then he glances toward the barn and murmurs, “We need to get the horses back to Hardy.”

I follow his gaze toward the end of the field and notice his buddy standing there, large forearms folded across his chest as he watches us silently from the barn doors.

Hardy’s enormous and tan, like a Scandinavian lumberjack, so unlike the raven-haired girl standing beside him, who is presumably his daughter.

Her long black hair cascades behind her like an unending onyx waterfall and she has little constellations of freckles on her lightly sun-kissed skin.

When we reach the bottom of the pasture Hardy strolls forward with a knowing smile.

“Y’all going for a swim?” he calls out, grinning as he walks behind us to lock up the gate.

Jason laughs as he shoves back his hair, dismounting his horse with the grace of a professional.

“Weather changes around here on a dime,” he replies, before gently handing his reins to the girl when she reaches his side. “Thanks Kit,” he rumbles, and she gives him a small smile, before wrapping the reins around her fists and leading the horse to its stall.

Then Jason’s eyes are on mine and his expression instantly intensifies, his handsome mouth lifting at one corner as he settles his palm on the horn of my saddle. He looks up at me from under his lashes as the rain beats down on him. And, feeling playful, I shield his beautiful eyes with the palm of my hand.

He smiles wider as his other palm roams up to grip the cantel at the back.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he rumbles, his eyes dipping to my splayed thighs. His gaze lingers there for a moment before he steps back, awaiting my dismount.

I slide my boots from the stirrups and then suddenly stall, realising that if this stallion was hard to climb then he’s going to be one hell of a thing to dismount. I swallow nervously as I assess the distance, cautiously slipping one thigh across the saddle, well aware that these guys are waiting for me but also not wanting to break my ankle when my boots connect with the ground. And like, also, the soles of my boots areridiculouslysmooth, meaning that there’s an even higher probability of slipping due to the downpour that’s going strong.

I tip up one of my boots and peek at the sole, humming nervously.

And without a word of warning, Jason grabs my waist and heaves me down.

His large palms envelop my middle and, when my boots hit the dirt, he releases his grip. He loops the reins from my hands to his, roping them with expert movements, and then he glances over his shoulder, jerking his chin at Hardy.

“Want me to take him back?” Jason hollers, unaware that my skin is now on fire. In fact, my whole torso is burning up and we didn’t even touch skin-on-skin.

Exhaling shakily, I reach up to take off his hat, but Jason’s eyes shoot to mine like two bolts of lightning.

“Keep it on.”

A thrill shivers through me and I avert my eyes, glancing toward Hardy.

And he watches me with an amused expression before strolling toward us and taking the reins.

“Got it from here,” he tells Jason, still watching me with a hint of a smirk.

And it’s not the look of a man who’s interested – which is obvious considering the wedding band on his ring finger, and the beautiful daughter who he was sitting with as she strummed on a guitar when we first arrived.

It’s the look of a man who can see right through me.

Past the Nashville exterior, to the small-town heart.

The small-town heart that’s jackhammering because of the guy standing right beside me.

“Gonna head before the snow hits,” Jason says, still casually looming over me.

“Doubt it’ll start until tomorrow morning,” Hardy replies, swiping the rain from his broad chest.

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