Page 19 of Untaming the Cowboy
For a few beats, he said nothing. Then his boots scraped against the straw as he stepped up beside her. Dahlia glanced over, catching the moment his gaze left the mare and found hers.
“She never lets anyone close,” he said finally, his voice was gravel and low smoke, making her spine hum.
Dahlia stroked the mare’s neck, glancing sideways at him. “Maybe she just needed a softer hand.”
He said nothing to that, but the muscle in his jaw flexed.
“Same temperament. Cookie’s stubborn, Dahlia’s definitely strong-willed. Makes sense they’d hit it off.” Beau laughed from down the aisle. “Explains a lot.”
“Explains nothing,” Luc muttered. “Don’t push your luck. She’ll turn on a dime.”
“Not on me,” Dahlia said, the certainty arriving before the thought.
His mouth pulled tight, but not quite a full frown. Dahlia caught it and bit back a smile. He probably hated that she’d gotten his wild child to practically eat out of her hand, but she could live with that.
She slid the latch on the stall. “C’mon, Cookie. I’m taking you out to get some air.”
Luc’s palm came down over hers before she could lift it. “No.”
She tipped her head back to meet his eyes, noticing the stubble darkening his chin and the tiny scar at the edge of his lip. Dahlia pushed out her chin defiantly. “Open it, cowboy. I ain’t dumb and I ain’t tryin’ to get stomped. She’s askin’.”
Something flickered in his eyes. Annoyance, maybe. Amusement, too. He hesitated long enough for Cookie to lean against the door, blowing a breath as if adding her vote. He peeked inside her stall, his jaw flexing, and finally he stepped back with a short sigh.
“Fine. Yard only.”
“That’s all I need,” Dahlia said, slipping the bolt free.
“Okay,” Luc said, moving back another pace. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I won’t.” Dahlia shifted to the side and swung the door open.
A moment later the spotted mare tossed her head and trotted out, hooves thudding against the packed earth. Dahlia fell in beside her, one hand grazing the warm line of Cookie’s neck as they started toward the stable’s exit. Cookie followed without fuss, ears flicking but no signs of rebellion.
Outside, the morning sun rose, clouds breaking apart over wet grass. Dahlia led her along the fence line, talking low, fullof little nothings—praise, affection, small truths meant only for them.
When Beau leaned on the top rail, grinning, she caught it from the corner of her eye. “Told you,” he said. “Two peas in the same pod.”
“She’s my kinda girl,” Dahlia said, guiding Cookie in a slow circle.
“Luc, I know you see this. She’s riding that horse by lunch,” Beau called.
Luc came out into the yard, hands resting on his belt. He didn’t answer, but Wynn did with a single bark and a planted sit at his boots, as if he’d decided the matter himself.
Dahlia let Cookie sniff barrels and buckets, let her stand and watch wind lift the pasture grass in long strokes. When the angles of her body melted back into curves, Dahlia, she slid a hand along her neck and laughed softly into the warm hair at her jaw. “You and me, Sugar Cookie,” Dahlia promised. “We gon’ be just fine.”
Out of nowhere, Beau’s voice from earlier drifted through her mind.She’s riding that horse by lunch.Dahlia smiled, thinking he might just be right.
Dahlia pressed her cheek against Cookie’s and kissed her just above the muzzle, her voice soft with a question. “You gonna let me ride you, sugar?”
Cookie’s ear twitched toward her, not a yes, not a no. Dahlia smiled at that and went slow, easing the hackamore over the mare’s head, letting Cookie test every move—the slide of rope, the shift of pressure. She worked her fingers along the cheek strap, murmuring encouragement until the tension in Cookie’s neck smoothed out.
When the bridle was set, Dahlia draped a blanket across Cookie’s back, careful not to rush. She walked her in a small circle, inside leg brushing against the mare’s ribs, outside legguiding the curve. Cookie flicked her tail once, turned her head, and gave a small snort that sounded more like agreement than warning.
Then Cookie did something that stopped Dahlia cold—she dropped her shoulder enough to make the mount possible.
“All right,” Dahlia whispered, lowering her body and finding her balance before swinging a leg over, settling bareback with no saddle and no stirrups.
Cookie shifted under her, hooves striking the packed earth as if testing what kind of rider she’d just accepted. Dahlia sat deep, hands loose on the reins, moving with the mare’s easy strut as they started forward.
