Page 16 of Wild Then Wed
I duck under the rail, boots hitting the dirt, and I’m vaguely aware that Norse God Guy’s head whips toward me like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. I don’t care. Let him stare. I’m not letting some overpaid cowboy wannabe traumatize this horse because he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing.
“HEY!” I scream, dodging the bay’s frantic path and heading straight for the idiot with the whip. “Drop it!”
The horse lets out a panicked snort, legs skidding, eyes wild.
“Who the hell are you?” one of them yells.
“Who the fuck areyou?” I shoot back, my hands shaking. “Because unless you’re Ray Hunt re-incarnated, you sure as hell don’t belong in this pen with a whip!”
The one holding the whip hesitates, glancing toward Vaughn—who is now storming through the gate behind me.
“Get out,” Vaughn growls. “Now.”
“But we were just trying to—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” Vaughn snaps. “You were trying to make a bad situation worse. You’re done here. Get the fuck out.”
The two of them freeze and look at each other like maybe they didn’t think this job actually came with consequences.
Vaughn doesn’t blink. “Leave the pen. Then get the hell off my ranch. You’re not welcome back.”
Silence. Then, slowly, the whip hits the ground with a soft thud.
I take a breath that doesn’t do a damn thing to calm me down. The horse is still spinning in the corner, but at least now no one’s trying to “train” him into a breakdown.
Vaughn steps closer to me. “You good?”
I nod, eyes still on the horse. “Yeah. Just pissed.”
He nods once. “Same.”
“I don’t use whips,” I say quietly, still watching the horse circle. “Ever.”
“Good,” Vaughn says. “Neither do I. Didn’t even know those fuckers brought them on the property. That’s on me.”
I nod, my jaw still tight. He sounds like he means it.
“For what it’s worth,” he adds, glancing over, “you’ve got some balls on you. Running in here like that.”
That earns the barest flicker of a smile from me. He lets me have that and backs off, leaving me in the pen.
The horse is still pacing the far side, ribs rising fast, eyes rimmed in white. His whole body’s screamingdon’t touch me, even though no one’s within ten feet.
I stay still. Don’t move. Just let him circle.
He’s not ready for anything else yet.
This isn’t about control—it’s about trust. About making myself small and steady and safe.
So I start with what I know.
I shift just enough to move my feet, just enough to let him clock it. I keep my shoulders low, my energy soft. No sharp movements. No eye contact. Just my presence in the space and the slow, deliberate beat of my breath.
Pressure, then release.
Let him feel me.
Let him decide if I’m a threat.
