Page 91 of Distress Signal
“It made the most sense. Plus, we let Aria name them.”
She’d been a little tike when all these horses had come to the ranch before Dad died. When she asked if she could name them, Dad agreed. He’d never been able to say no to his little girl.
Conversation died out as Reagan watched me tack up Raider, even going so far as to prove she knew her way around a horse by getting his bit and bridle in place while I focused on the saddle.
Keeping my attention on Raider was goddamn difficult with Reagan looking as good as she did. Tight jeans, feet stuffed into black cowboy boots I remembered from our first night together, and a white ribbed tank that clung to her torso. Her blonde hair a braided rope down her back, topped by a fucking cowboy hat I wished was mine. That old wear-the-hat rule would come in handy right about now.
I was damn near drooling, and it took every ounce of self-control I possessed not to drag her into my office and have my way with her.
But I wanted a lot more from Reagan than another single night romp in the sheets, and today was my chance to show her that.
Once Raider was ready to go, I headed back down the alley toward the stall at the end, where Scamp sat ready and waiting. She whinnied happily when I approached, and I held out an apple for her before leading her out.
“This is Scamp,” I told Reagan. “Aria’s horse. Since you guys are about the same size and she’s a sweetheart, I figured she’d be perfect for you.”
“She’s gorgeous,” Reagan breathed, running her palm down the length of Scamp’s neck.
Scamp was a stunning grey Arabian with a fully black mane and tail. Compared to the warmer coats of my and my brothers’ horses, she stood out—which was ideal for Aria, who was born to be in the spotlight.
We worked in tandem to get her tacked up then set off.Reagan kept pace with me easily as we headed across the nearest pasture toward a nearly hidden trail that snaked through the woods, leading us to my favorite private spot.
Each of my siblings and I had our own such place on the ranch, the one spot where we could disappear. Sort of like aHappy Gilmore-style happy place. Crew had taken Aspen to his to get engaged, and now I was bringing my girl to mine.
But first, I took her to Crew’s spot, mainly because that was where their wedding ceremony would take place.
“Holy Aphrodite,” Reagan breathed when we trotted up to the ridge overlooking the valley below. She climbed down from Scamp’s back, and I took the horses’ reins, looping them around a nearby tree branch before following Reagan to the edge. “This is…breathtaking. The perfect spot to get married.”
She’d stowed her camera away in one of Scamp’s saddlebags, and she had it in her hand now, raising it, the shutter clicking away as she captured the landscape around us.
I didn’t want to disturb her as she lost herself in the motions of doing the thing it seemed she was put on this earth to do, so I stood by and watched. Before my eyes, the tension I hadn’t realized she’d been holding in her body since the day she came back to Dusk Valley seemed to bleed from her, like she was finally fully relaxed. At one point, she lowered the camera and simply tipped her head back, eyes falling closed as she enjoyed the moment of peace. The sunshine on her skin, the gentle breeze blowing the strands that had come loose of her braid off her face. A simple, easy moment where it didn’t seem like the weight of the world rested on her shoulders.
I knew a little off-the-grid excursion didn’t erase the fact that Lainey was still missing and we had absolutely no leads to speak of, but I was grateful I got to be the one to give her this moment of peace.
At last, she opened her eyes. They landed on me, a serene smile on her face.
“C’mon,” I said, inclining my head toward the horses. “There’s more to see.”
We spent the next few hours crossing over a small section of the ranch. Reagan peppered me with questions about it, my ancestors, and what it had been like to grow up here.
“Honestly, all of us except Owen had been hellions. Crew, West, and I were the worst offenders, though. I think a lot of that stemmed from the need to act out after Dad died. Our way of coping, you know? We weren’t emotionally mature enough to deal with our grief in a healthy, constructive way, so we fucked around. Got drunk and ran rampant through these pastures and hills. Broke bones. Broke hearts. Did all the shit teenagers weresupposedto do—and a lot of things we shouldn’t have.”
“That sounds amazing,” Reagan said, her head always moving as she tracked all the natural beauty around us. “We grew up close to the mountains, but home isn’t anything like this. There weren’t tens of thousands of acres to use as our own personal playground.” She looked at me then, her smile melancholic. “We were happy, though.”
“That’s all that matters.”
Reagan only nodded.
“Where to next, soldier?”
She called me by the nickname so infrequently, even a completely innocent use of it had my dick getting hard.
Still, I grinned at her, ignoring the situation in my pants. “My favorite spot.”
Less than ten minutes later, we pushed through the overgrowth on either side of the path—which I kept that way on purpose, not wanting anyone else to discover this place—I told Reagan about how I discovered it.
“We used to play hide and seek,” I started.
One of those perfect, dark-blonde brows curved. “On this much land?”
