Page 23 of Leather & Lies

“Movement in her peripheral vision.” He finishes my thought, already moving to the exterior wall. His hands find the roll-down shutters I hadn’t noticed. Of course he has custom blinds on his stable windows.

“We could be partners in this, you know,” I say impulsively. “Instead of antagonists.”

His hands pause on the blinds. “I don’t need a partner. I need obedience.”

The words sting more than they should. “Then you’ll never get my best out of me.”

His only response is the metal clicking as he lowers the shutters, blocking the shifting light.

The mare’s breathing steadies, her posture softening. I croon nonsense until the fear bleeds out of her bones. Each exhale brings her closer to calm.

“Good girl,” I murmur, letting her choose to approach. “That’s it. No more scary shadows.”

When she finally drops her head to lip at my shirt, I risk a glance at Jackson. He’s watching us with an expression I’ve never seen before—something raw and real beneath his usual mask. For a moment I glimpse the boy who grew up with nothing, who built all this through sheer force of will.

“You’re good with her.” His voice softens, like he’s forgetting to maintain his carefully constructed walls.

“She just needed someone to listen.” I scratch under her forelock, earning a contented sigh. “Sometimes the biggest problems have the simplest solutions.”

When I meet his eyes again, the mask is back in place.

“Coffee?”

My throat tightens at the casual offer. At the domesticity of it. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“And we’re both awake.” He steps back, giving me space to exit the stall. “Unless you’re afraid of having a civil conversation?”

The challenge in his tone raises my hackles, even as something warm unfurls in my chest. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

His smile shows teeth in the darkness. “That, little hellcat, is the goddamn truth.”

The walk back to his house feels different somehow. The security cameras seem less menacing, more like silent witnesses to this strange predawn truce. Jackson walks beside me, his solid frame outlined by moonlight, and I try not to notice how easily my steps fall into rhythm with his.

His kitchen is all gleaming granite and stainless steel, warm light spilling from lights installed under custom cabinets. It should feel sterile, but there are hints of life beneath the perfect surface—a cookbook with a broken spine, a ceramic mug with a chip in the rim. Small imperfections that make him seem human. Almost human.

I lean against the counter, watching him measure coffee beans into a grinder that probably costs more than the monthly feed bill at my own ranch. The domestic routine feels strangely intimate, more exposing than being naked beneath him.

“Two sugars, no cream.” Same as he’s been making it every day since I arrived. This time, it feels more intimate.

Heat floods my cheeks. “You’ve been watching me that closely?”

“I watch everything that’s mine.” He turns, catching my gaze. “But you already knew that.”

The grinder’s whir breaks our stalemate. I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly aware of my bare legs, my threadbare shirt, my tangled hair. As he reaches for mugs, his shirt pulls across his shoulders and I remember how those muscles feel under my hands, how his skin tastes when?—

Stop it.

“Your mare’s going to need the shutters adjusted before sunset every day,” I say, desperate to steer us back to safer ground. “At least until she learns this is home.”

“Home.” He sets a mug in front of me, and our fingers brush. Static electricity or something more dangerous sparks between us. “Is that what this is becoming for you?”

“This is a business arrangement.” The coffee’s perfect temperature, perfect strength. Of course it is. “Nothing more, as you reminded me yesterday.”

His eyes soften as he watches me drink. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you that I’m negative, too.”

I blink. Then blink again. Laughter explodes out of me, a harsh bark I can’t contain. “It hadn’t occurred to me that you would force me into this contract, then force me to have sex without protection, and that youwouldn’tbe.”

I guess I trusted him that much.

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