And even if he had made a total idiot of himself, it was worth it to see her let go of whatever dark shadows had followed her this morning.
“Is dancing part of your therapy? I’ve heard stranger things.” Cyler strode into the barn, a crooked grin on his face as she shook his head.
“Pretty soon, he’s going to be dropping it like it’s hot. You just wait.” Harper had calmed down enough to speak clearly, and she gave a wide grin to Cyler.
“Let me know when that takes place so I won’t be around. No offense, dude.” Cyler lifted a hand as he glanced to Sterling.
“None taken.” Sterling walked back to Margaret, handing the bridle over to Harper and giving her a sidelong glare. “Did you know he was there?”
“Nope. I swear,” Harper replied, giggling. She took the bridle and started to place it over Margaret’s head.
Sterling turned to Cyler. “You heading to the burn site?”
“Yeah. I just called in, and they have the blaze at least halfway contained.”
“And that’s good or bad?” Sterling asked, regarding his brother-in-law.
“Actually, that’s pretty damn good for it just starting last night. It could be much worse. We’ll take what we can get. I wish I had irrigation lines in the south pasture, but it is what it is. I don’t think it will come back this way. It burned farther south like we hoped. They were able to keep it from jumping the firebreaks they put down yesterday, so by tonight, I bet it’s even closer to being put out.”
“Do they know what started it?”
Cyler shook his head. “No, but it could be any number of things. It doesn’t take much when it’s that dry out. They’ll keep me updated if they find anything suspicious.”
“Sounds good. What do you need me to do to help?” Sterling shifted out of habit, not because his leg hurt. As he noticed his tendency to favor the leg, he made a conscious effort to evenly distribute his weight.
“After Harper’s done with...whatever it is ya’ll have planned today...” He winked at Harper. “...why don’t you ride out around the perimeter and make sure there’s no hot spots?”
“Will do, boss.” Sterling saluted Cyler.
Cyler paused, regarding Sterling. “It’s really good to have you here, man. I know you don’t feel up to snuff with your leg and all, but you help out more than you realize.” He walked over and slapped Sterling’s back then walked out of the barn.
“You ready, cowboy?”
“Making fun of me again?” Sterling asked as he walked over to the left side of Margaret.
“Yup. Always. Climb up, and I want you to walk her to the arena. I’m not going to lead you around. You fine with that?”
Sterling swallowed his trepidation and placed his good foot in the stirrup. Thankfully, it was his right leg that was injured, so he was able to use his good leg to push up onto the saddle. Swinging his leg over took some coordination, and he tucked his left shoe into the stirrup and reached out to take the leather reins from Harper.
“Go on, I’ll follow.” She took a step back, and Sterling clicked his tongue and gently squeezed Margaret’s flanks, encouraging her to walk.
The horse tossed her head, making the bridle jingle slightly as she started forward. Sterling’s muscles locked down initially at the horse’s movement, but he forced himself to loosen up, relax.
“Slouch.” Harper called out from behind.
Sterling sighed. It went against everything within him to slouch. Now, standing at attention? That he could understand. Slouching, it just felt wrong.
“Relax into the saddle, let it be part of you. An extension,” she coached.
He reoriented himself in the saddle, following her suggestion and finding it much easier to achieve. “Like this?” He glanced behind him as they walked out into the sunlight.
“Yeah, better,” Harper affirmed.
As Sterling guided Margaret to the arena, Harper ran up ahead and swung open the gate.
“Go for it. You know the drill,” she instructed as she closed the gate. Soon she was climbing up onto the rail, watching.
Sterling focused on Margaret’s cadence, her rhythm, as he tried to make his body follow her lead.
It wasn’t natural for him, which was frustrating. But he persevered.
Soon Harper was encouraging him to trot, correcting his posting technique.
The hour passed quickly, the lack of pain making the whole experience far less tiring.
“You feeling good still?” Harper asked from her perch on the fence.
“Yeah, more than before. Of course, that’s the meds, but I’ll take what I can get.”
“What are you noticing, since you’re not focusing on the pain? Are you weaker? Out of balance?”
Sterling frowned slightly as he thought, evaluating his leg. He posted higher to experiment, and his leg gave out, causing him to smack the saddle with his ass a little harder than was comfortable.
“Weaker for sure.” He winced, meeting Harper’s gaze.
“What about coordination? Usually strength and agility go hand in hand.”
Sterling slowed Margaret’s pace and then pulled her to a halt. “Yeah, I wouldn’t want to be doing the NFL combine right now, but it’s getting easier to do most things without my leg failing me.”
“Good. I noticed that you’re not squeezing with your legs as tightly as you could be when Margaret increases her speed.” Harper jumped from the fence and walked over to where he and Margaret waited.
“When you tell her to trot, use your quads to hold on, think of them as anchoring you.” She reached up and grabbed his thigh, squeezing it. “Right here. This should tighten up along with your calf.” She slid her hand down his leg.
Dear Lord. Did she have any idea what that did to him? Her touch echoed through his entire body, making him hyperaware of each sensation she created. His body reacted with enthusiasm, the memory of their kiss all too fresh in his mind, adding fuel to the fire she was unknowingly creating. As her hand rested on his good calf, she squeezed slightly again, and he bit back a groan of pleasure.
“Here. Squeeze,” she coached.
Sterling obeyed, trying to focus on her words so that he didn’t make a fool of himself.
“Good. Keep it tight.” She smacked his leg and stepped back.
As if his world hadn’t just caught fire like the hill behind them.
“Try it again.” She turned around and walked back to the fence.
His gaze dropped to her ass before he closed his eyes to try to calm his state of arousal.
“Waiting, sunshine,” she teased, and Sterling gave her an irritated grimace as he encouraged Margaret into a walk.
“Practice at a slower pace. Squeeze. Good. Like that.”
Sterling kept the tension in his leg, his bad leg already starting to tremble with the exertion.
“Try it faster.”
Damn, he was pretty sure that anything she was going to say would be twisted in his head to turn him on more.
Great.
Taking a deep breath, he clicked his tongue, and Margaret trotted. He squeezed his legs tighter, trying to post as well, and finding the whole combination anything but coordinated.
“Slow it back down!” Harper called out, and he quickly obeyed.
His bad leg was trembling harder, and he relaxed the muscle, giving it a break.
“What did you notice?” she asked.
Sterling looked to his right leg. “I’m needing to build up more strength. That was hard,” he admitted, cursing his weakness.
“Only the strong can admit when they are weak. Don’t let it get you down. Last week, that would have been impossible. Right? Good work.”
Harper jumped down from the fence and opened the arena gate.
Sterling guided Margaret out of the arena and toward the bar
n, Harper following behind.
Sterling watched as she ran up ahead and opened the barn door. Internally, he debated whether to talk to her about the kiss last night or to let it go.
After a moment, he decided to let it go.
“So, about last night...” Harper started.
Or maybe not...
Sterling took a deep breath and waited, curious as to what she’d say. He pulled up Margaret beside her stall and carefully got down from the saddle, all the while focusing on Harper, waiting for her to speak.
When she didn’t continue, he turned to her and asked, “Yes?”
Her purple hair was twisted into a messy bun, the colored tips spiking out from her head in a mass of tangled loose curls. Her green eyes darted to his then back to the dusty floor of the barn. Her expression gave nothing away, and Sterling swallowed his impatient nature.
“I...” Her nose scrunched up, and she met his gaze with a rueful one of her own. “Can we forget I even said anything just now?”
Sterling’s tension broke, and he gave a small chuckle. “And let you off the hook? Nope. What gives?” He walked over to a post and leaned against it, giving her some space.
Harper sighed deeply then turned to Margaret, sliding her hand down the mare’s long nose and tracing her muzzle. “I was stupid and scared and ran, and I’m sorry because there I was talking about hating how afraid I was...and then I acted all afraid.” The words gushed out. She continued to pet Margaret’s face, not meeting Sterling’s gaze.
Sterling thought over his words before he spoke them. “Sometimes it’s all right to be afraid. Not all fear is bad. Sometimes it protects us. And last night...you might have needed to protect yourself.” Sterling waited, watching her carefully to see how she’d take his words.
Harper’s eyes cut to him. “But I wasn’t in any danger. It was stupid to run.”
Sterling pushed from the post but didn’t move closer. “Nonetheless, I’m sorry that you felt the need to run, regardless of the reason.”
Harper regarded him, her green eyes piercing through him as if weighing and measuring his words. “Thanks,” she answered after a moment. “That...uh...actually was really...sweet.” She frowned a bit at the words, as if confused by them.
“And that’s a good or bad thing?” Sterling couldn’t resist asking, given her adorably confused expression.
“Good?” Harper asked.
“Are you asking me?” Sterling teased, moving toward Margaret and starting to loosen the cinch on her saddle like Harper had taught him.
“Good. It’s just not something I’m used to...unless it’s from my brother. But that’s different.”
“Let’s hope so.” Sterling winked and gave her a sidelong glance.
“Ass.” Harper rolled her eyes and came to stand beside him, helping to get Margaret’s saddle off.
“So, was that what had you all in knots when you got here this morning?” Sterling asked as he lifted the saddle from Margaret’s back and balanced his weight. He started walking to the tack room when she replied.
“Not exactly. I learned that my ex-husband is up for parole.”
Sterling tripped, swore under his breath as he righted himself with his good leg, and continued to the tack room. When he hung up the saddle, he met Harper’s watchful gaze. “So, I bet that ruined your day.”
“To say the least.” She turned back to Margaret, unlatched the bridle, and swept it off her face. “It’s been a hard morning.”
Sterling walked back to her, watching as her hand had a slight tremor to it as she lifted the bridle to him.
“So...if you don’t mind me asking, what did the son of a bitch do?” he asked, his jaw clenching after he spoke the words. But he hid his protective instincts, knowing they could be easily misinterpreted for aggression, and his gut told him that Harper would be sensitive to those kinds of reactions.
“It’s a long story.” She turned to Margaret, sweeping a brush across her flanks as Sterling sighed, turning back to the tack room.
“I’ve got time!” he called over his shoulder and waited for her response.
The moment dragged on, and Sterling hung up the bridle. As he walked back toward Harper and Margaret, he waited, not pushing her.
Letting her decide.
Letting her lead.
“How much time?” She gave him a tentative glance then focused back on the horse.
A flash of insight struck him. While he used horses to help his leg, Harper used horses to help her heart.
It was an odd twist, yet he understood it, giving him a window into how Harper worked.
And giving him an idea.
She has a horse, right? Spartan...
“I’ll tell you what. I need to check on the pasture, and you’re more than welcome to come with me. After that, how about I invite myself over to your house, and you can introduce me to Spartan and tell me your long story. You’ll...be more comfortable there. Am I right?” He watched and waited.
Harper’s gaze shot to his, her expression shifting from suspicion to indecision then relaxing into peace. “Am I that transparent?” She scrunched up her nose again, and Sterling noted the way it highlighted the few freckles smattered across her face.
“You and horses.” He shrugged.
“Yeah, well...” She hitched a shoulder in response.
“So...good idea, bad idea?” he asked.
“Good idea.” She led Margaret into the stall then met his gaze with a challenging one of her own.
“Race you to the pasture.” She ran from the barn toward the quads.
Sterling shook his head, walking behind her.
It was nice to have someone to chase. Even if he couldn’t run.
Sometimes, slow and steady won the race. And he was most assuredly slow.
Maybe a little unsteady.
But for once, he thought that maybe that was exactly what he needed to be.
For Harper.
Maybe even for himself.
CHAPTER 8
Harper seriously hadn’t thought this through.
Like, at all.
She didn’t regret her decision, but that didn’t mean it was easy.
Part of her wondered if this was exactly what needed to happen, to see if she could scare him off.
The other part of her was terrified because if her story didn’t send him for the hills...nothing would.
And that was almost scarier than her past.
Almost.
After they’d checked the hills for hot spots, she and Sterling had parked the quads and headed to the house.
He’d grabbed his phone.
She’d fought for something intelligent to say, but failed miserably, and with that sexy as hell grin of his, he had walked to her pickup.
And here they sat as she took the winding road up to her and Jasper’s home, her thoughts as tangled as knotted fishing line.
But if Sterling noticed, he didn’t comment.
Smart guy.
“You like country?” Harper finally broke the thick silence.
“I don’t know much of it, but I like what I know. Thanks for driving me, by the way. It kinda kills me that I still can’t drive anywhere but the ranch.” Sterling sighed as he turned his gray gaze out the window.
“You’ll probably get cleared when you go back to Seattle for your check up. As long as you don’t drive a stick shift.”
“I’ll put that on my list of what not to buy when I go to purchase a car.”
Harper looked to him. “You don’t have a car?”
“Nope.” Sterling shrugged. “I liked being deployed. There wasn’t much use for one when you were overseas most of the time.”
Harper nodded once. “I see. Do you even know how to drive a stick?”
Sterling gave her an irrita
ted grimace. “I can drive anything with more than one wheel. Over any terrain, thank you very much.”
“Touchy.” Harper grinned, relaxing since she was able to tease him a bit.
“I may be crippled for the moment, but don’t take away my skills.”
Harper lifted a hand in defense. “No skill shaming here.”
“Good. So, tell me about your horse,” Sterling said.
Harper relaxed further, even as she could feel his gaze like a caress. She pushed the awareness of it to the back of her mind as she focused on the question.
“Spartan is a barrel racer. He’s a gelding, about sixteen hands, so he’s a big boy.”
She saw Sterling nod from the corner of her eye as she took the driveway to the barn.
“He’s persnickety and basically a huge lap dog. But he races like hell is on his heels and has my back.” Harper smiled as she thought of the big black monster. Damn, she loved that horse.
“How long have you had him?”
Harper felt her smile fade. “Only a few months, but it feels like a long time. The horse I had before him died. It about broke my heart.” She gave a mournful look to Sterling as she put the truck in park. “But she died giving me Rake. He’s at the trainers right now, but he’s pretty amazing. He’ll be a good barrel racer like his momma was. He’s just got to grow up a little bit. Well...a lot.” Harper grinned, opening her pickup door.
Sterling slid from the seat and shut the door, his gaze scanning his surroundings. It was different than how most people scanned their surroundings. Sterling’s gaze seemed to catalog each detail, as if evaluating the exits, entrances, and places for cover. Oddly, it didn’t make her feel on edge; rather, it made her feel safe.
“You done?” Harper asked, leaning against her truck as a slow smile spread across her face.
Sterling’s gaze cut to her as his brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“You’re evaluating our position, soldier.” She winked and pushed off the truck, turning to the barn, but catching the chagrined smile that teased his lips.
“Caught that, did you?”
“Yup.”
“Good times,” he replied from behind her.
The Cowgirl Meets Her Match (Elk Heights Ranch) Page 7
