Page 32 of Saddle Studs
“No, no way. He’s all yours.”
We let the moment die down naturally, and then I rested my head lightly against Benny’s shoulder. He didn’t move away.
Ninety days… what if I don’t want it to end with these ninety days?
We sat like that until the music faded and the stars had fully claimed the sky, that singular question ringing in my head until my head hit the pillow.
14
BENNY
An email dingedon my phone, fighting through the bad cell service at the ranch. It was an email reminding me that there were only a couple days left to register for the big barrel race that was happening soon. My finger hovered over the link for a moment before I swiped out of it entirely and locked my phone. As much as I loved riding and racing, I didn’t enjoy losing and feeling less than. Why even risk it?
I got back to the fence I was painting. It was already early evening, we’d already had dinner and most of the family was calling it a day and hunkering down for bed. But I had gotten a spurt of energy and didn’t feel like burning it off in bed. I grabbed my paint bucket and my brush and walked out to the perimeter fence, sitting down in the grass and pouring some of the white paint into a smaller container. I dipped the brush in and got to work. The sun had finished her shift but there was still plenty of natural light offered up by the blanket of stars above me. It’d been a nice day, very productive, and even exciting since Dusty—named after the dusty road I found him on—graduated from the incubator in my room to his own private nest in the barn.
Not only was I happy for my new feathered friend, but I was also extremely excited to not have him in my bedroom anymore.
My focus narrowed on the brush strokes. I enjoyed painting. It was meditative for me. I liked seeing the wet paint streak across a canvas—whether that’s an old wooden fence or a freshly built wall. I liked seeing the contrast between a worn-down surface and a newly painted one.
It was nice to have these moments, especially lately, when it felt like my mind was constantly running at a hundred miles a minute, ever since Sam arrived at the ranch.
Back when the news first broke that he’d be coming, I remember being worried that I’d get in a fight with him, or that it’d be unbearably awkward and it would ruin the vibes of the entire ranch. None of that happened, though. I should have been worried about the complete opposite—falling for him all over again.
I hadn’t prepared myself for that possibility. Didn’t even think it was possible, not after how intense a heartbreak I suffered the first time around. I typically was someone who learned from their mistakes.
Apparently not this time. At least not when Sam is my first thought in the morning and my last thought before bed. I couldn’t shake him. Couldn’t shake his kiss, his touch, his laugh, his jokes, his ass, his smile, his dick, his?—
“Benny?”
“Ah!!” I launched my paint brush up into the air. As gravity is wont to do, it pulled the brush right back down, white paint streaking the side of my face.
I blinked and turned around.
Sam stood behind the fence, lit up by moonlight, mouth slightly open like he wasn’t sure if he should laugh or apologize.
“Sorry,” he said, eyes wide. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”
I wiped my cheek with the back of my hand. “You didn’t sneak up. I was just… distracted.”
He climbed through the fence and walked over, squatting next to me in the grass. “You’ve got some right—” He reached out and brushed my cheekbone with his thumb, catching a streak of paint.
His fingers lingered.
My heart kicked against my ribs. He must have just showered. He smelled like clean soap and soft lavender, his hair still a little wet.
“You’re lucky that didn’t land in your eye,” he said, still touching me. His voice was soft. Lower than usual.
I gave a snort. “I’m lucky it didn’t land on my dick.”
He laughed. “Would’ve had to help you clean it off if it did.”
The air between us dropped. Thickened. Shifted from playful to primal in a single heartbeat.
I looked at him. Really looked at him. There were parts of him I still recognized from our youth and others that had shifted and morphed into the man he was today. He wore a slightly oversized black T-shirt and black shorts, his lean legs on full display. Legs he had no idea how to use when it came to dancing, but that was totally fine with me. I enjoyed our line dancing sessions. We had four under our belt already, and I could see the improvement happening.
“You don’t have much left, do you?” Sam asked as he broke whatever spell had been cast between us by looking away.
“Just this part of the fence.”
