Cowboy Up(24)

“Please, just go,” I beg, my tears coming even faster now.

“Caroline!”

At the sound of my mama’s shrill voice in the distance, I whimper and try to make myself disappear by tightening my arms around my legs.

“What the hell?” he mutters.

The fear of ghosts past clawing closer, I look up and hiccup a sob before opening my mouth. “Get me out of here.” I hold his worried eyes and beg him with everything in me to take me far away from here. Everything else that happened from the moment I slept with him up until the embarrassment I felt at coming face-to-face with him again vanishes.

It makes no sense logically, but once those frantic words leave my lips, I know he is the one person who can banish this feeling of uncontrollable desperation. I could rush back to Lucy and have her take me away from my mother instantly, but just looking into his worried eyes, I can feel the balm of calm that his nearness brings within me. I felt it during that night in the dark, and I feel it now—something inside me begging for him. He should be the last person I plead with to save me right now, but the second the words left my mouth, I felt with no doubt that he was the only one.

And, as if to prove that this really could get more humiliating, his hands go under my armpits, dislodging my hold, and pull me up off the ground as if I weigh nothing. Once he has me back on my feet, he bends and I see the top of his cowboy hat moments before he throws me up onto the back of the beast that took me down.

If I weren’t seconds away from pure panic, I would catalog every moment that happened next to replay mentally for the rest of my life. It was a move straight out of the pages of a romance novel. Clayton Davis, cowboy in shining armor, heaves himself right up behind me and adjusts both of our bodies so that we fit on top of the horse together. I’m more in his lap than actually sharing the saddle with him, but with my butt pressed tight against his crotch and my thighs spread wide on top of his own, a whole new rush of feelings start inside me. One strong arm curls around my belly before I can even blink and he clicks his tongue. Suddenly we’re blazing toward the fields behind the barn at lightning speed. I curl my hands around the arm holding me and pray I don’t fall to my death as he guides the powerful horse away.

We burst through the field, not slowing in the least, and I have to force my nails out of the thick muscles of his forearm when it becomes clear I’m not in any danger of falling.

“Where,” I choke on my words, clearing my throat. “Where are we going?” I call over my shoulder.

“Away.” His one-word answer rumbles against my back, his arm tightens around my belly, and he continues to lead the horse with one hand holding the reins.

I look over the horse’s head and almost throw up. “Please, Clayton! Stop!” I cry out as we get closer and closer to the fence line.

He immediately calls out a command and we slow before stopping completely just a few yards from the fence I was sure was about to kill us. I slump in his grasp, my position uncomfortable and borderline painful now that nothing is distracting me. He drops the leather reins and his hands move on my body, igniting fire in their path as they glide, now distracting me for a whole new reason. Before I realize his intention, he’s lifting my body and turning me in his strong arms as if I was a child.

I flail, thinking surely the horse is going to dislodge us both if he takes even a tiny step. Not wanting to fall, I loop my arms around his neck and hold on for dear life.

“You’ve got to stop tossin’ me around like it’s nothin’,” I protest.

“Never been on a horse?” he asks, ignoring me and drawing my attention from the ground under us and to his handsome face. Without the darkness to hide in, I see him—really see him. Just as I’m sure he sees all of me. Every unremarkable bit of me.

That strong jaw that I had admired the night I found him as my barstool neighbor, the only part of him that I ever got a good look at, is proud in form and sprinkled with the same dusting of facial hair that I remember burned my sensitive skin as it rubbed against it.

My belly churns as I study the man who had, until now, been a faceless stranger. There isn’t a flaw to be found. Perfect nose, full lips, and eyes brighter than a lush summer field right after the storm clouds clear and sun shines bright on the rain-soaked grass.

And those mesmerizing eyes are studying me just as fiercely as I am him.

“Thank you,” I finally say, grateful that my mind wisely didn’t blurt out how perfect I find him. “You’re correct, I’ve never ridden before.” Silence continues as his eyes probe mine. “Horses scare me,” I explain, nervously trying to fill the void his mute perusal of me is creating.