She wouldn't have pegged Finn for this kind of organized, thoughtful man, but it occurred to her she didn't actually know much about him. He hadn't let her. These glimpses he was finally allowing her to see made her want so much more.
He twisted, and she felt the blanket come up around her shoulders, blocking out the cold his body heat hadn't absorbed. He opened the thermos. Rich, chocolaty smelling steam wafted from it, and she almost clapped her hands with delight when he poured it over into the cup.
"You're the best." She grinned when he handed her the cup. She wrapped her hands around it and held it up to her face, inhaling.
His low chuckle warmed her almost as much as the sip of hot chocolate she took, almost as much as the way his gaze felt on her. "I've been told."
"Maybe too much," she teased.
"Probably not enough," he laughed, shaking his head.
"So you said you asked me out to get to know me better."
"That's right, I did."
"A question for a question," she said, taking another sip of hot chocolate. She couldn't imagine being warmer or more comfortable.
"Alright. Tell me about Encore."
He could have asked her a million things and she'd have willingly answered; favorite food, color, country song. She would have even volunteered to tell him about her dating history, more about her parents' divorce, anything. But he'd cut straight to the core of her hopes and dreams by asking about the horse she'd pinned everything on to the point of obsession.
"My dad bought him for me." She shrugged.
"So that's why you were so insistent about his rehabilitation?" Finn tipped his head toward her, and Lily glanced up. She'd discovered a whole different side to him tonight; the one she'd just gotten a glimpse of when she told him about the accident. Even Emma didn't know much about her parents' divorce. When Finn Baylor let down his prickly armor, he was easy to talk to. The kind of person you knew would keep your secrets, and say the right things at the right times…or nothing at all if that was what the situation called for. "He's special to you because he's a gift from your father?"
She shook her head resolutely. "I was an angry teenager, and it was easier for him to try and buy me off than spend time trying to fix what had been broken. I guess a small part of me wanted to prove to him it's worth it to keep pushing, even when things get tough."
"He's lucky to have someone as stubborn as you pushing for him," Finn said, letting out a low chuckle. "Most of the horses that come in are at their last stop. If I can't help them, there isn't another option. I have a feeling this horse will be with you until he expires of natural causes, regardless of how things turn out here at the ranch."
She nodded. "You're right. He's stuck with me."
Finn's eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, bumping her shoulder lightly with his. "Sounds familiar."
Her eyes drifted down to her hands circling the empty cup and she bit her lip. "When Emma told me you specialize in this kind of horse, I knew you'd stick with it until the end—whatever that is. And I needed someone as determined as I am."
"You mean stubborn," he laughed.
Glancing up at him, she caught his gaze, warm and welcoming. "Well, I was trying to be nice."
She watched as Finn's hand moved from where it had been resting on his thigh, drifting across the short space between them, and covered her fingers, slipping between the plastic of the thermos cap and her palm. He turned her hand over, stroking the back of it with the pad of his thumb. His gentle touch made her breath catch in her throat. It was as close and intimate as the kiss they'd shared. Maybe more.
"I will stick with this until the end." His low voice rumbled through her, warming her insides. "I won't lie—I don't know what that end will be. But I promise I'll see it through."
He reached across his lap and took the cup from her with his right hand, and because it felt like the most natural thing in the world, she leaned into his side.
*
They sat like that for a long time, fingers clasped together, his promise hanging in the air. He wanted to promise her other things, but the horse was the only thing he knew he could deliver on, whichever way it turned out. The enormous quietness of the night sky stretched out over them. Finn had seen it a hundred times, but it had never felt quite like this. He'd originally thought he was so out of practice this night would be a disaster, but he couldn't have asked for anything better.
After a time, he let go of her hand, only to draw her closer to his side, sliding an arm over her shoulders. He buried his face against her hair, inhaling, and let out a slow breath as she melted into him, one warm hand sliding across his abdomen. He tensed for a second, but then relaxed into her touch. It felt good, and letting himself feel good was a new, but a welcome thing.
He'd never considered his life unhappy. He'd experienced immense loss, sure, but that wasn't the same as being miserable. And that was why it surprised him how different this felt. Not like unhappy versus happy; more like heavy versus light—and she was the light.
And then she crushed the light feeling with seven words that felt like a punch to the gut.
"Can you tell me about your wife?"
His first instinct was to say no. Telling her would have been fair. She'd opened up not once, but twice, about difficult things in her past, and he'd barely given her a crumb to go on. He regained his footing and slipped his right hand out from under the blanket, using it to tilt her chin up. A flutter of a smile crossed her lips when she met his eyes, and he pressed his mouth to the corner where it tipped up. Her hand moved to his chest, and she pushed him back just enough to catch his eyes again.
"Just promise you're not going to run away after this and not give me a drive back to the ranch," she said, laughing. Despite the dark, he could see a playful glint in her eyes.
"Give me a chance to get this right this time."
He bent his head, pushing back against her hand on his chest, and drew at the curve of her neck. She tasted incredible, and oh-so-sweetly, she tipped her head to the side to give him access, one of her hands sliding up onto his shoulder as his lips swept up her jaw, to the feather-soft spot behind her ear. He heard her shuddering sigh move past his ear and smiled, cupping the base of her neck to tip her head back and take her parted lips.
All at once, he wished he hadn't wasted these past few days not kissing her.
Like she had in the kitchen, she softened into the kiss almost immediately, giving in to him in a way that made him only want more. The desire surprised him more than anything. It was a feeling a man could get used to.
*
Oh, he was getting it right, alright. She didn't know how long it took before she came up for air, but when she did, Lily was clinging to Finn like her life depended on it. And maybe it did. She could have easily lost herself completely in the gentle, easy way he kissed her. Not with the same urgency as before, but slower, more thorough, until she was grateful she wasn't standing because she would have just pooled at his feet by the time he was finished with her. A damp chill had started to settle in the night air, but she barely felt it.
He caught her eyes, cradling her cheek in his hand, and then shifted, shuffling them back into the bed of the truck. By the time it was all said and done, he'd positioned her with her back against his chest, nestled in a v he made with his long legs, the blankets wrapped around them. He gathered her hair off her neck, pushing it over one shoulder, and she could feel his warm breath just at the knot of spine where her neck and shoulders intersected. His mouth followed, and a shiver ran up her spine. She pressed back against him, and he smiled against the crook of her neck.
When he finally spoke, his words rumbled through her. "I knew Sunny since we were kids. In high school, she started traveling to rodeo events with us and Emma. After that, it came easy. We married the fall after we graduated. We were just kids, really."
A lump settled in Lily's throat as she listened to him speak. He couldn't show her the vulnerability in his face, but she
could feel it in every word he spoke. She found his hand resting on his thigh and twisted her fingers into his to give them a reassuring squeeze.
"But we grew up, together. A lot of trial and error." He stopped then, and Lily shifted, craning her neck to try and catch his eyes.
"You don't have to keep going."
But he did, anyway. A deep, shuddering breath moved through him, and then he continued.
"She was my best friend, and my biggest cheerleader. And she was so young when she got sick. You say 'in sickness and in health' at the altar, but you're so happy you can't imagine then what it looks like—a hospital bed in your spare bedroom and your wife lying in it, all skin and bones and beeping machines. And there's not a thing you can do. Not one goddamn thing. No amount of love can cure cancer."
Lily swallowed hard, trying to keep her own emotion at bay. Her heart ached for him, but she was grateful for the little window into Finn's motivations. She could understand his hesitance; the need to protect himself from that same helplessness that had probably overwhelmed him when his wife was sick. She knew a taste of that from her days lying flat on her back in a hospital bed, but she'd at least been granted the kindness of a kernel of hope.
"She got sicker and sicker and we all knew what was coming. My brother and his wife were still fresh in the ground and I knew she was going to join them. But she kept on as long as she could. In the early days, between treatments, she'd make me take her to rodeo. She even ran barrels for a while, so weak I had no idea how she stayed with the horse, and she'd climb down and I'd have to carry her away because she couldn't even walk. People had a lot to say about me 'letting' her do something like that. But the truth was, there was nothing she put her mind to that she couldn't do—except survive the cancer.
"I can see that in you; the things you've told me about your recovery, how damn stubborn you are about that horse. Sunny's been gone almost as long as we were married, at this point. I'd be lying if I said I don't still miss her every day. Or that I'm not scared as hell of you."
That brought a sad little smile over her lips, but he couldn't see it. It took everything she had to muster her voice when all she wanted to do was cry for this man, for his loss, and his pain, and the powerlessness he'd felt. "I promise I won't bite."
He chuckled and tightened his arms around her, pressing his face against the back of her neck. Maybe for his own benefit, maybe to stop her from doing what she wanted the most—to turn around and take his face in her hands and kiss him until he didn't hurt. They sat in silence for a time, while she processed the idea that he was scared of her. It was almost impossible to imagine a man who made a living facing angry 1200lb animals with a murderous streak scared of anything.
"I don't want to hurt you." It was a quiet admission, one she barely heard. She couldn't help but marvel at the thought that he was worried about hurting her, when he'd just laid out his emotions. There was clearly a lot more to Finn Baylor than she'd imagined, and there had to be a tiny part that was afraid of being vulnerable again. She loosened herself from his grip, rising up on her knees and cupping his jaw.
"I can take whatever you can dish out, cowboy," she said as she touched her lips to his; gentle at first, and then more forcefully, as if she could take the hurt away from him. It took him a minute to respond, but when he did, the urgency and emotion in the kiss overwhelmed her. The taste of longing, regret and sadness all but erased the few sweet kisses they'd shared in comparison. His hands at her waist drew her to his body, and she bowed toward him, eager for the contact.
She would have given him anything he asked for, because she knew what that need felt like, to validate yourself after loss and pain. To feel like yourself again. Wasn't that the same thing she was chasing right now?
*
As abruptly as the kiss had begun, Finn pulled back. Distraction was one thing, loss of control was completely another, and if he didn't rein himself in soon, he wouldn't be able to stop.
Lily's chest heaved and their quick breaths hung in the chilled night air between them. Bathed in moonlight, she was pretty as a picture. Unable to stop himself, he reached up and touched her cheek lightly.
"I should get you back home. You're going to freeze to death up here."
Especially if his hands went where his mind had, underneath the thin shirt she wore, flaying open the buttons and unhooking her bra… Her cheek swelled under his palm as she smiled, tracing one finger over his own stubbled jawline.
"It's cold?"
He chuckled, and shook his head, shifting carefully. He had expected the pain and self-deprecation that always came hand in hand with thinking or talking about Sunny too much, even now. Instead, Lily had erased it all, and he didn't know what to do with that.
"Yes, it's cold. And if I let you get sick, Emma will have my hide."
Finally, Lily shuffled backwards out of the nest they'd made, straightening her shirt as she got to her feet in the bed of his truck. He breathed a sigh of relief as the distance opened up between them. It'd been a long time since he'd considered alternatives for his F150 that extended beyond hauling hay and towing trailers, but she made him feel like a horny teenager who couldn't get a check on his roaming hands.
He followed her to his feet, then jumped off the tailgate, offering his hand to help her down.
"I'm doing this for your own good," she said as she slipped her fingers into his and hopped off the tailgate, stumbling forward and into his arms. It might have been on purpose, and he might have been praying for it to happen. He gave her a quick squeeze—all he dared—before he released her. "I know how shitty your odds are when you go head to head with Emma."
"And how do you know that?" He laughed as he led her around to the passenger side of the truck and opened the door for her.
The look she gave him almost made him laugh out loud.
"I'm still here, aren't I?"
—TWENTY-FIVE—
"Alright, brother, it's just you and me. And I'm not letting you add any new scuffs to my saddle, you hear?" Finn slid a hand down Encore's nose and the horse lowered his head. Since they'd discerned the saddle was the problem, he'd spent every morning slowly and carefully saddling the gelding and working him with it on. Finally, the gelding had stopped responding to the tightening of the girth and the sessions were starting to move more smoothly. So smoothly now, in fact, with his confidence and urgency bolstered by his date the night before, Finn was going to attempt something stupid.
He'd put first rides on new horses without a spotter before, but it had been a while, and it was usually a horse he could trust. He still hadn't reached that point with Encore. The point he had reached was the one where he couldn't stop thinking about how incredible it would be for Lily if he could actually make her dream of riding Encore again happen, for real. She'd listened patiently, quietly, while he'd talked about Sunny the night before. Something he hadn't truly been able to do for years. The gentleness and compassion in her touch—empathy, not pity, told him she knew all too well where he'd been. And so now he ached to be able to do this for her.
Reaching into his pocket, he produced a treat that Encore happily snuffled up, crunching away merrily. He'd been outfitted in a rope halter and a long, soft lead rope; a bit and bridle didn't always match this occasion. He'd made up his mind to see what the horse would tolerate, pushing him to the edge of his comfort zone before he backed off. It was a sound theory with most horses, but with one as unpredictably explosive as Encore could be, it would be risky.
Laying a little groundwork, he flexed the gelding's head from one side to the other, then gathered the rope up in the hand he put on the horn, so the gelding's neck and body arced toward him, and then carefully slipped his toe into the stirrup. Encore overflexed, sniffing the toe of Finn's boot before he released, and carefully, the cowboy bore weight in the stirrup.
"Bad idea, Finnegan."
That was Emma, ambling by the round pen on her way to the big outdoor riding pen, a client horse trailing behind her.
He glanced back and in the second it took him to refocus, Encore, who had been relaxed, rooted his head down and let out a grunt, driving his locked up front legs into the sand and his hindquarters into the air. Finn stumbled back, landing on his ass in the sand, but was up in a hot minute as the gelding worked his way around the outside of the ring. His ego bruised more than his hind end, Finn stepped out of the round pen, cursing under his breath as he brushed dust off the seat of his jeans. Emma stopped up at the outside rail, shaking her head.
"What the hell are you doing, anyway? You shoulda just asked and I would have helped you."
"He's getting better," Finn insisted, gesturing at Encore, who had quickly stopped bucking and geared down to a high-headed trot.
"Um…"
"Sort of."
"What's the big rush, anyways?" When he made his way around their side, she stuck her arm out over the rail and snagged the trailing lead rope "Easy, buddy."
"No rush," Finn lied, but knew Emma would see straight through it. She always did.
"Uh huh." As he expected, she tipped her head toward him, one brow arched sharply. "Did he knock you on the head when he knocked you over?"
"What?"
"I'm just sayin'… this isn't like you. Normally, you'd go back, retrace your steps, take all the time you need."
"I don't have all the time in the world, Champ." The urgency felt like a boulder on his chest. He knew this wasn't the right way to go about this. She was right. A horse like this could take some time and he would normally tell a client with a horse like this that it would take as long as it took, full stop. But Lily didn't have all the time in the world. She had a contract in Denver in the winter, and he knew she wouldn't stay even til Christmas. He had a lot of ground he had to make up between now and then if he was going to shape Encore back into the horse she wanted him to be.
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