Page 36 of Orphan Girl's Mountain Men

Okay, that's a problem—but right now, the main thing is Hailey.

I breathe a shaky sigh of relief, then realize I'm still sprawled on top of her, feeling the warmth and softness of her body beneath me, the flutter of her heartbeat. Despite the circumstances, my cock stirs again, pressing insistently against my jeans. This will not do. Quickly, I roll off her and rise to my knees a little shakily, gripping the side of the stall to steady myself.

That was a very close shave for both of us.

Buggy is a thin column of dust in the distance by now. Meantime, Hailey looks shell-shocked. Her eyes are wide, her breathing fast and shallow.

"You okay?" I ask.

"Uh-huh," she says, her voice small and shaky. Her shirt is torn, and I can see her heart pounding against her ribs, her whole chest heaving with every breath. She's crying, but at least she's conscious.

"You sure? That was a nasty kick. Can you move your leg?"

"I... I don't think so." She swallows. "It all happened so fast."

For a moment, we stare at each other, close enough to feel each other's heat. I notice how soft and round her lips are, how easy it would be to lean in and kiss her.

Almost without thinking, and as gently as I can, I reach down and scoop her up into my arms.

She squeaks in surprise, clutching my shoulders as I stagger to my feet. Her soft, earthy scent fills my senses, sending lust crashing through me all over again.

"What are you doing? Where are we going?" she asks, breathless.

"To the hospital," I tell her firmly.

"But... what about the horse?"

"The others can get him. He won't get far. Right now, you need to get checked out."

CHAPTER 13

Hailey

As we head down the mountain in Lennon's battered old truck, I glance at the man behind the wheel.

I'm finding it impossible to get a read on him. One minute he blows hot, the next cold. When he rescued me from under that horse—essentially risking his life to protect me—I couldn't believe it. I mean, I guess I can. I've always hoped that he's a good person underneath that gruff exterior, but hoping someone is good at heart is a very different thing to actually feeling them throw their body over mine, shielding me from that black stallion's furious attack.

I'm glad he's okay, because I would have felt terrible if anything had happened to him.

Looking back, I realize how stupid it was to approach a horse I knew nothing about—especially from behind. What was I thinking? My parents taught me good animal etiquette from a young age, how important it is to read an animal's body language before interacting with it. And patently, the black stallion's body language was angry, agitated. But I mistook it for excitement. He kept bristling, and I thought if I gave him a sugar cube, he'd let me clean his stall—even though I'd already finished the ten empty stalls in the main stable.

But that's me, always needing to prove myself. Always wanting to go one better.

When I'd spied the smaller stable building I thought I'd impress Dean by mucking out the stalls in there too. But unlike the main stable, this one hadn't been empty.

One beautiful black stallion stood in the first stall, chewing hay from the feeder and eyeing me silently from behind a large, round, intelligent eye. His eyelashes curled upward, almost like someone had crimped them into place, giving him a slightly feminine feel, despite his size.

He looked harmless enough.

I wonder why they left him behind instead of taking him with the rest?I had mused idly. Maybe his rider's sick, in bed with the flu or something.

The moment I got close, his entire demeanor changed. One moment he was calm and relaxed, the next he turned into a frenzied maniac.

The next few seconds went by in a blur. I remember him rearing up, kicking down his stall door. I remember a sharp pain in my thigh—and I think that's when I dropped to the floor.

I lay there, thinking that one more well-aimed kick would kill me. Then I heard an urgent shout—could be Lennon's—and the next thing I knew, someone had thrown themselves over me.

Despite how stupid my actions were, and the fact that it was my fault he was in danger, Lennon hasn't scolded me, guilt-tripped me, or even said anything about it. He hasn't threatened to get Dean to throw me out. He carried me gently to his truck, strapped me in with the seatbelt, and drove us away in silence.

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