Page 19 of Saddle and Bound

I showed her how to brush the horses, and we settled into a quiet, comforting rhythm. We worked side by side, and I watched as Rosie slowly began to relax, her tension melting away.

I wish I knew what was weighing on her. I wish she’d let me in.

I continue to observe the evening unfold, between laughter and dances. Rosie approaches her father and Maria, and I see how loved she is. Robert nods to her, his face lit up with joy. I see her blush and then, with a sigh of defeat, she takes off her heels. I smile to myself, knowing I was right.

I lose myself in the music, letting myself be carried away by the rhythm. The evening passes quickly, and I find myself laughing and joking with the guys, telling stories around the fire. And then I see Rosie, a bit apart from the party. There's something in her eyes that worries me, a sadness hidden behind that forced smile. I realize that I care about her more than I'd like to admit.

I approach, but Val's cheerful voice inviting her to dance makes me smile. Val always manages to make everyone feel welcome. I watch Rosie as she lets herself be dragged towards the dancing group. She closes her eyes for a moment, and when she reopens them, I see a new light in her eyes.

As the night progresses, I find myself sitting next to her on a hay bale, where she has retreated by herself. I offer her a bottle of beer, and I see surprise in her eyes. "Thoughtful, princess?" I ask, my tone more serious than I expected.

"A little," she admits, accepting the beer. "It's all so... different."

"Good different or bad different?" I ask, curious to know what she really thinks.

She thinks for a moment. "I don't know," she answers honestly. "But maybe... maybe it's not so bad."

I smile, a genuine smile this time, without a trace of sarcasm. "You know, princess, maybe there's hope for you after all."

I look at her, seeing something move inside her. For the first time, I see beyond the facade of the city girl. I see a kind, strong woman, with a depth I hadn't noticed before. But I also see her tension, her difficulty in letting go completely. There's something holding her back, and this worries me.

"Maybe," she whispers, more to herself than to me.

We sit in silence, looking at the stars and listening to the music in the distance. It's a comforting silence, and I delude myself that maybe she might like it here and that she could feel at home. I don't know why this thought crosses my mind, and I don't even know why a little later I let myself be guided by impulse and ask her to dance with me.

I hold out my hand, feeling my heart hammer in my chest when Rosie accepts it. Her slender fingers intertwine with mine, soft against my calloused skin. I guide her towards the improvised dance floor, my eyes caught by the movement of her bare feet on the grass. Every step seems like a dance in itself, light and graceful.

Her green dress flutters around her legs with every movement, revealing glimpses of skin that leave me breathless. Her hair, usually impeccable, is now moved by the evening breeze, some rebellious strands caressing her face. She's no longer the perfectly composed city girl - she's wild, free, beautiful.

I gently place my hand on her waist, feeling an electric spark run through me at the contact. Her skin is warm under the light fabric of the dress, and I have to resist the urge to pull her even closer. Our bodies move closer, and we begin to move slowly to the rhythm of the music, every movement charged with unexpressed tension.

Rosie's scent envelops me. Her eyes, illuminated by the flickering light of the lanterns, shine with a light I've never seen before. There's mischief in that look, a spark of adventure that makes me want to discover every secret she hides.

And it's absurd, another thought that flashes through my head: that here, a bit distant from the others, under the stars and surrounded by nature, we look like a magical painting. I swear I'm not a poetry reader or an art lover, and where this sudden romanticism came from, I have no idea. I hope Chris isn't contagious.

For a while, though, I decide to enjoy it because it makes me feel... serene, at peace, in my place.

But then I realize that Rosie won't stay. She'll return to her life in the city, and I... maybe I'll be more hurt than I'll ever admit even to myself.

I shouldn't be involved in this story, I shouldn't feel this way. Yet, here I am, worried about her and more attached than I should be. How did I end up in this situation?

I'm Alex, the cowboy who always has everything under control.

But with Rosie, everything seems different, complicated. And I can't help but wonder what will happen when she leaves.

So... my big mouth does what it always does when I feel a bit uncertain.

“Who would have thought the city princess could move like this,” I murmur in her ear, my voice husky. I feel her shiver at my touch, at the warmth of my breath on her skin.

Rosie looks up, a mischievous smile on her lips. “There are many things you don't know about me, cowboy,” she responds, her voice low and seductive. Her hands, initially timid on my back, now move with more confidence, fingers tracing patterns on my shirt. She’s going to be the death of me.

If she had even the faintest idea of the things I want to do to her, she wouldn’t be standing this close. Hell, she’d probably run off, disgusted.

If she knew how badly I crave her, how completely she’s undone me... Damn it, I’ve never been this reckless—not even as a teenager. And yet, here I am, barely holding myself together, all because of her.

We continue dancing, our bodies getting closer. Every movement is a promise, every touch a spark that threatens to ignite us. The tension between us grows, almost palpable, charging the air with electricity.

After a few songs, we stop for another beer. And another. And another one. The alcohol flows in our veins, dissolving the last barriers. Rosie laughs more freely now, her head thrown back, her neck exposed in a way that makes me want to...

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