Page 67 of Lost Then Found
Lark shifts in the saddle, rubbing a hand along Ellie’s neck. “We’re getting there.”
I nod slowly, and she glances at me again, but this time, she looks away first.
Hudson shrugs, completely unaware of the weight hanging between us. “Cool.”
I take a breath, adjusting my hat before turning back to Hudson. “Wanna see the lake I pushed your mom into when we were teenagers?”
Hudson’s whole face lights up. “Hell yes.”
I let out a bark of laughter, but before I can say anything, Lark turns her head so fast I swear I feel the wind off of it. “Hudson.Youcan’t say that.”
Hudson looks up at me, rolling his eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t get stuck. And damn if it doesn’t hit me square in the chest. That look is pure Lark Westwood.
I lean down, lowering my voice near Hudson’s ear. “Still wanna go faster?”
His grin is instant, wide and full of excitement. “Yeah.”
I glance back at Lark. She’s trailing behind, keeping a steady pace, but I know her—she won’t back down from a challenge.
“Hold on,” I tell Hudson, then give Springsteen the cue.
The horse surges forward, stretching into a full gallop, his hoovesthundering against the dirt. The wind rushes past us, kicking up dust, and Hudson lets out a breathless laugh, gripping the saddle horn tight.
Behind us, I hear Lark shout, “Hey!”
I smirk to myself. She knows the way to the lake.
But just as I’m about to make a joke about her keeping up, I hear hooves pounding faster—closer. I glance back, my smirk faltering when I see Ellie closing in.
Since when does she run like that anymore?
Hudson throws his arms out like he’s flying. “Yeehaw!”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Being a cowboy ain’t so bad, huh?”
“It’s the best!” he shouts, eyes bright with adrenaline.
Then, a sharp, high-pitched scream.
I turn just in time to see Ellie rear back, her front legs kicking against the air.
Lark is thrown.
“Mom?” Hudson’s voice is tight, panicked.
I don’t think. I pull back on Springsteen’s reins, bringing him to a sharp stop, and swing off in one motion. “Stay here,” I tell Hudson, already taking off toward Lark.
Ellie is gone, hooves pounding against the dirt, her body shrinking into the distance. I shout her name, but she’s already too far.
My pulse is hammering as I reach Lark—only to find her already standing, brushing dirt off her jeans. There’s dust smeared across her shirt, streaked over the curve of her breasts, and this is definitely not the time to be noticing that.
I grab her arm without thinking, scanning her body for any signs of injury. “Are you hurt?”
She snorts, like it’s a ridiculous question. “Boone, I’ve been thrown more times than I can count.”
Her voice is breezy, unconcerned, but my heart is still hammering against my ribs. I know she used to get thrown a lot when she was first training for barrel racing, but I’ve never gotten used to seeing her hit the ground.
“You sure?” My fingers are still wrapped around her forearm, my grip firm.
