Page 30 of Tough Love

But since I’m a fucking gentleman, I did no such thing. But the second her hand touched my chest, I was hard as hell. How can she do that to me with only the lightest touch? A smile and a look from those deep brown eyes. The curve of her lips. What I wouldn’t do to taste those.

And now I am painfully hard. Fuck. A grown man, thirty-fucking-four for god’s sake, hard just looking at this woman. Jesus. It’s for the best she is leaving at the end of her six months. Because this is starting to feel very much like it could wreck me if we went there and it went sideways. Memories of tough days and impossible nights after Jemma flood in.

Like that, the blood rushes back to my brain. Nope, rider and coach, client and vet will have to be as good as it gets for Addy and me. I will have to make sure that it stays that way. It’s better for her that way.

The smell of pancakes finds its way to my room, and I roll out of bed and head to the kitchen. Ma stands behind the skillet, flipping methodically. The coffee already dripping away, I grab a mug from the top cabinet behind her.

“Addy coming today?” she asks.

“Yup. Needs to make better progress if she’s going to make the roundup.”

“Hudson, you’re not pushing her too hard, are you?”

“Of course not.”

“I know what your father expects, and what her reality is may not exactly line up. I have been doing some research on her fall?—”

“You what?”

She tilts her head and gives me thedon’t shoot meexpression. “I was worried about her; I thought it would help if we knew what she went through, that it would help you?—”

I slam the mug on the counter. “Howard will tell us when she is good and ready, not a second before.”

“Huddy. She?—”

“Nope.” I hold a hand up.

All of a sudden, I ain’t hungry. I walk out and back to my room to change. I pull on jeans and a t-shirt before socks. I make my way to the porch and slide on my boots, grabbing my Stetson and shoving it on my head, fire still coursing through my veins with Ma’s good intentions. What the hell was she thinking? After Harry’s lack of tact yesterday, I thought they would realize it’s best to let things play out in their own time. But no, she decided to snoop instead.

Fuck me.

I whistle, and Charlie is at my side a heartbeat later. “Hey, boy. Least you make her happy. Come on. We have work to do.”

He trots alongside me. Low clouds threaten overhead, the air thick with moisture. Addy’s car pulls up as we clear the whitegate, and she gets out of her car, making a beeline for Charlie. Lucky bastard.

Great start Hudson, be jealous of the fucking dog.

Addy’s jeans hug her frame and her cream half-sleeve top is done up with a bunch of metal clasps, like a V-neck, resting over the swell of her chest. Her silky brown curls are loose and around her shoulders today. I remind myself why she is here, for the thousandth time this morning.

“Hello, little man. You with us today?” She is on the ground with him. Charlie licks her face, and she roughs him up.

“Morning, Howard. Ready to take a turn around the yard today?”

Her fussing stops and she meets my gaze, looking up from the ground. “Hopefully.”

“Let’s go.” I march to the barn, and she walks behind me, talking to Charlie. Making my way into the barn, I grab a halter before her shadow fills the doorway to the tack room. Charlie waltzes in, sniffing the floor around the room.

“I will meet you in the wash area. I’ll help you saddle him up.” I hand her the halter.

“Okay,” she says, scanning my face, as if trying to find what’s different since yesterday.

“Go on.”

Something like hurt flashes in her eyes before she schools it back and nods, turning and heading to the paddocks. Fuck, I am the world’s biggest ass. But it’s better this way. She doesn’t need this. She needs to keep her job. To ride again. Whatever else this is, it’s not why we’re here.

I grab up Sergeant’s bridle, blanket, and saddle and walk to the pastures and out to Silver. Charlie is stuck to Addy’s side. Traitor. I rest the saddle and bridle on the top rail and climb through a lower one and walk to where Silver stands under her tree. She is thinner than a few weeks ago. Old age, maybe.

When Addy halters Sergeant and walks past, I slip through the rail again, pulling the gear into my arms. I pass her the bridle as she slips the halter off. She talks softly to the gelding while she slides the bit into his mouth and the headband over his ears.

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