Page 67 of Only Mine
My face burns. Saint mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like a curse.
“Kids,” Rome says with a wide grin. “They see everything.”
“Can we do the trail now?” Ivy asks. “Please? The one by the creek?”
“That’s a bit advanced for beginners,” Saint starts.
“I can handle it,” I interrupt, surprising myself. The truth is, I’m starting to enjoy this. The rhythm of Penny’s walk, the sun on my face … the way Saint hasn’t left my side.
Our eyes meet. Snag. He frowns and looks away first.
“Fine,” he says quietly. “But we go slow.”
Rome pushes off from the fence. “Why don’t you grab Dante?” he tells Saint. “I’ll watch Ivy and Carolina Wren.”
“Don’t call her that.”
Rome halts mid-step. “What now?”
“The bird thing. Don't.”
“You mean the bird she's named after?” Rome glances between Saint and me, grinning now.
Saint frowns. “Just use her name.”
“I am using her name. Technically.”
“Rome,” Saint warns.
“Wrenley, you care if I call you Carolina Wren?”
Before I can answer, Saint cuts in, “She doesn’t need a nickname from you.”
Rome cocks a brow. “From me specifically?”
He looks between us again, and I can see the moment it clicks. My heart does this stupid little flip because Saint is being territorial over me, even if it's just a nickname. Even if it doesn't change anything between us.
“Well I'll be damned, Saint. Didn't realize you were taking applications for nickname privileges.”
I press my lips together to keep from grinning like an idiot. This possessive side of Saint shouldn’t make me feel giddy, but here we are. Too bad it’s just his protective instincts and not actual feelings.
It could be wishful thinking, but I swear Saint’s expression darkens as he has to walk away from me and stroll toward the stables.
While he’s gone, I grip the reins like a lifeline and refuse to move, much to Ivy’s entertainment. Rome offers to lead Penny around, but I shoo him away, telling him to focus on Ivy instead. I’m happy with Penny staying still and munching on the grass growing around the fence posts. In fact, I take the time to set up my phone, nestling it near the front of the saddle to capture a close-up of Penny.
While I’m futzing with my phone, another horse’s snortcatches my attention, and I raise my head to note Saint’s return and?—
Oh my god.
He’s wearing a cowboy hat. His button-down shirt is loose around the collar, showcasing a V of tanned muscle and inked skin. Saint holds the reins one-handed as the horse trots toward us.
I nearly fall off Penny.
“What?” he asks, drawing Dante to a stop beside me with such smooth sexiness, my mouth goes dry.
“Nothing.” My voice comes out strangled. “Just. The hat.”
“Sun’s bright on the trail.” He adjusts the brim, the gesture so casually masculine I have to look away. “Rome keeps spares in the tack room.”
