Page 55 of Dirty Cowboy

"Maybe they should," she mutters. "Horses have feelings, just like people. Wouldn’t you want Shadow to have her first experience with the love of her life?"

I blink. "That’s absurd."

Emma hops off the bucket, landing in front of me with a firm stance. "It’s basic psychology. Empathy andanthropomorphism."

"Anthropo-what?" I laugh, crossing my arms.

She smirks. "Anthropomorphism. Giving human traits to animals."

I shake my head, amused. "Honestly, Ems, all I heard wasant-morphism.How about we go see Shadow instead?"

She pivots, heading toward the wall where the halters and lead ropes hang. I trail after her, drawn to her like she’s got a damn rope around my neck.

"For someone who spends all his time around horses, I’d think you’d agree," she says over her shoulder.

I pluck the surcingle belt from her hand, hanging it back on its hook..

"Are we having our first argument as an engaged couple?" I slip my fingers through hers and tug her closer. The last thing I want is for Emma to be upset.

Her fingers tighten slightly, her frustration melting into a soft whimper. I lead her outside, the crisp evening air wrapping around us as the last rays of sunlight streak across the horizon.

"How about this?" I offer. "A neighbor just bought a new stallion. You can see Shadow in action, or lack of action, yourself."

Her lips lift into a smile.

“Well, she’ll either accept him, or she won’t,” she says, her voice laced with challenge.

I chuckle. "Your odds of that are pretty good, Ems."

We reach Shadow’s stable, and I push the door open. The mare nods her head, ears twitching as she lets out a soft neigh. Emma lights up, rushing forward, whispering to her like they’re best friends, fingers tracing along Shadow’s nose.

She moves like she belongs here. Like shebelongswith me.

I barely take a step before Emma unlocks the stall andslips inside.

"Emma,don’t!"

But it’s too late. Shadow—who’s never been keen onanyonebut me—doesn’t move.

Emma strokes her coat, murmuring softly, the mare leaning into her touch. Her hands move with care, like she’s done this a thousand times before. I watch, stunned, as she reaches for the brush and starts grooming the mare. And Shadow, the most temperamental horse I own,lets her.

“This is incredible,” I mutter. “She’s never this calm. I’ve always been the only one she tolerates.”

Emma turns, her expression warm. “You made her sound like some untamable beast when all she wants is love.”

Her voice dips lower, almost conspiratorial. Shadow flicks her ears toward her, listening like they’reactuallyhaving a conversation.

"You’re good with her," I step closer, sliding the stall door open. "You know, if your dad weren’t sick, I’d insist on you staying longer after Harvest Fest."

Emma stops mid-stroke and her eyes meet mine, something unreadable flickering across her face.

"It’s nice having someone around," I admit, my voice rough. "To brush horses with. To cook with."

Her lips part as a slow, teasing smile creeps in. "Says the single cowboy who hasno timefor a woman in his life."

She steps out of the stall, and I follow her down the corridor. She spins suddenly, turning to face me, her gaze searching mine. I run a hand over the back of my neck, trying to ease the tension building in my chest.

A life with Emma would bedangerous,but I want it. Iwant her.If Emma were truly mine, I’d spend every night buried deep inside her, mapping every inch of her body, tasting every breathy moan that falls from her lips.

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