Page 53 of Wild and Wrangled

Dusty shook his head. “Not quite. I’ve gotta help your auntie get the horses back to the stables.”

“Oh.” Riley looked disappointed. “Mom takes me to the coffee shop after lessons. You could probably come if you want. She likes you.”

I looked down at Riley, mouth agape. I heard Emmy stifle a laugh behind us, and when I turned to look at her, she shrugged with a grin.

When I turned back, Dusty’s eyes were on me. They were alight. “Next time,” he said, not breaking eye contact with me for a few seconds—long enough that I was grateful there were only two people around to see it. When he finally broke it, he looked down at Riley. “You did good today, kid,” he said and ruffled her hair. She giggled. He was good with her. It didn’t shock me, necessarily, but it did make me realize how much things had changed. Dusty felt so…steady now. When we were together, I always knew I could depend on him, but he was also just…Dusty. He was fun and flirty and spontaneous back then—all things I wasn’t. And he was those things still, but he was also different. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was something about him now. He seemed even sturdier, unyielding, as if he was a ship incapable of sinking. I couldn’t explain it, but I also didn’t know: Could a ship like that stay anchored in the harbor, or would it eventually yearn to drift off toward the open waters and new horizons?

“I’ll see you guys later.” Then he hopped over the fencewith as much grace as an actual ballerina and walked toward Emmy, who had four horses on hitching posts at the end of the arena.

“Bye,” I said, and Riley gave him a wave as we started to walk away. I looked back just in time to see Dusty ride out of the arena toward the stables. The horse he was on had another horse tied to it. He looked at ease as he rode. Beautiful, even.

I sighed. Beautiful and my personal Achilles’ heel, just like he’d always been.

Chapter 24

Cam

Fifteen Years Ago

We had a test in English today—six short-answer questions and four long-essay questions aboutAnimal Farm.I had trouble focusing because I could feel Dusty at the desk right behind me. I wondered what he was thinking about—probably the test, which was also what I should have been thinking about, but I was mostly just thinking about him.

I’d never really experienced something like this before—something exciting and butterfly-inducing and totally consuming.

I loved it.

I might have loved him, too, but I didn’t know for sure. Did that exist at seventeen? Did it exist at all? I didn’t know if I’d ever seen it—at least not between two people. My parents loved things, money, but I didn’t think they loved each other.

Or me.

I heard a chair scoot back—Dusty’s chair, I was pretty sure. Itwas confirmed when I saw a familiar pair of worn-out Levis and mop of blond hair making their way toward Mr. Watson’s desk.

Dusty dropped his test in the box on the desk before turning around and coming back toward me—toward his desk, I mean. I tried not to look at him.

When he walked past, he dropped a piece of paper that was folded into a triangle onto my desk, and my heart jumped a little bit. I eyed it for a second. Should I open it now? Wait until I finished my test?

It couldn’t hurt to just take a peek…right?

I reached for the note, but before I could grab it, someone else did. When I looked up, I was met with a very annoyed Mr. Watson. Shit.

“Passing notes, Miss Ashwood?”

“N-no.” Well, kind of. “It’s nothing, sir.”

“You know the rules.” I did. If you passed notes, they got read in front of the class. Oh god. I wanted to wither and die right in the middle of the classroom. If he read that note out loud, I would. I didn’t even know what it said, but at this point, I didn’t want to know.

Yes, I did.

“It’s not—I mean,” I stammered. “I didn’t—”

“It’s from me, sir,” Dusty said. I felt him stand behind me.

I swore Mr. Watson rolled his eyes. “All right, then, Mr. Tucker. Would you like to share with the class or shall I?”

Dusty was quiet for a second. Mr. Watson started to unfold the paper. “I haven’t stopped thinking about kissing you,” Dusty blurted out, and Mr. Watson’s face blanched. It even took me a minute to catch up.

“I hope you’re talking about the contents of the note, Mr. Tucker.”

“Yes, sir,” Dusty said. He took a step forward—I saw his shoe in my periphery, and then he kneeled right next to my desk.

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