Adam

by Jennifer Ashley

  “Bring Buster closer,” she said abruptly.

  “What?”

  “I’m coming up behind you.”

  Adam stared at her a moment, then he slowly moved Buster until his rump was an inch from the rail. Bailey used Adam’s shoulder to steady herself as she slid over Buster’s back and settled onto the blanket behind the saddle’s high cantle.

  Buster never flinched, holding still until Bailey found her balance and wrapped her arms around Adam’s middle.

  “Now ride.”

  Adam didn’t move. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Buster is used to having two on him. Come on. We have a lot of work to do.”

  **

  Adam’s world changed as soon as Bailey’s arms closed around him. He’d been riding on automatic, fixed in his watery dread, willing himself not to go into a panic attack. The one last night while he’d faced Kyle had been bad, and he didn’t want to go through that again anytime soon.

  Once Bailey was balancing behind him, her warmth enveloping him, his focus shifted to her. Nothing else was important.

  “Today, Adam,” came her stern voice at his back.

  He wasn’t wrong about her being sexy when she was bossy. Adam’s jaw unclenched enough to allow him a faint chuckle.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, then nudged Buster forward.

  One of the stable hands let them out of the gate. They rode across the open space between rings and barn, toward another gate that led to open land and riding trails.

  Apparently, no one else at the ranch had anything better to do than watch Adam and Bailey ride out. The hired hands leaned on rakes and brooms or paused on their way into and out of the barn. Grant, Tyler, and Carter, along with a couple guys they were training, stopped their horses and turned to watch.

  All were silent as Bailey and Adam walked slowly past on Buster and made for the far gate. Bailey waved, but Adam pretended to utterly ignore them.

  “Someday my brothers will mind their own business,” Adam said after he’d leaned down and unlatched the gate for them, taken Buster through, and closed it up again. “It’ll be really cold that day in hell too. Pigs will be flying around all over the place …”

  “They’re worried about you.”

  Bailey’s sweet voice, so close, relaxed him another notch. “They’re nosy,” Adam growled. “It’ll be all over town by tonight that you were on a horse with me, hugging me tight.”

  “Oh, well, so what if it is?”

  Adam let out another chuckle. He really didn’t mind if the whole town knew that Adam and Bailey were together. Kyle could eat shit.

  Bailey became all business again. “Take the north trail. Once we get up the hill, put him into a trot.”

  Adam stiffened. Buster felt his tension and swished his tail. “I don’t want you falling off,” Adam said.

  “I know how to fall,” Bailey said. “So do you. It’s the first thing we learn. We’ll be doing that later. We also know how not to fall.”

  She sounded so logical, as though Adam was in control of everything he did.

  But the sun was warm, Bailey behind him was warmer, and it was a fine Texas late-September day. If he didn’t think too much, he could ride, guiding Buster with his weight, giving him the slightest touch with reins and legs. Bailey was a glorious distraction, with her arms firmly around Adam’s waist, he steadying her at the same time she steadied him.

  They made it to the top of the hill, and Buster moved into a jog with the barest nudge from Adam.

  Adam could do this, he thought. He’d been riding since he could walk, and stunt riding for years. The Campbell boys were fearless—at least, that’s what everyone said.

  Buster jogged along, liking to be out. Bailey had been right to put Adam on him—in spite of his bad manners, Buster was solid and knew his job.

  They rode down the other side of the low hill, the gentle green just fading from its grass. The rise hid the house, barns, and rings behind them. No one would be able to watch them out here unless they deliberately followed, which was likely why Bailey had chosen this trail. Adam wouldn’t put it past his brothers to find some excuse to be out here, though, so he urged Buster to go a little faster.

  “Great,” Bailey said brightly behind him. “Take him into a lope, and we’ll practice some falls.”

  Shit. Adam’s vision began to cloud, and the roar of the accident started to blot out all other sound.

  “Not yet,” he managed to say. “Let me get used to this first.”

  “Your whole business is falling,” Bailey said in a reasonable tone. “Getting your nerve for it back is the first thing you need to work on.”

  “Bailey …” The flames were coming for him again.

  Bailey’s arms tightened around his waist. “It’s all right, Adam. I’ll catch you.”

  Oh, right. Adam would fall on her and squash her. What the hell was she talking about?

  She sure looks good, Dawson’s drawl came to him over the noise in his head.

  Adam had once shown Dawson a photo of Bailey that his mom had sent him. The picture had dated from after Bailey had graduated from college and begun her first job in Austin. She’d started pulling her hair back from her gorgeous face by that time, and in the picture, wore a dress that, while modest, didn’t completely hide her curves.

  Dawson had said, You left that behind? Are you crazy?

  Yes, Adam had been crazy. Craving a fast-paced existence, money for his family, approval. He’d been seduced by the movie business and brushed aside his home life. And Bailey.

  She’s with you now, Dawson’s voice went on, and Adam wondered what his messed-up brain was doing to him this time. Keep her there.

  Messed-up brain or not, whether Dawson was reaching out to him or not, the man was right.

  “We can fall tomorrow,” Adam said over his shoulder. “Let’s just enjoy the ride.”

  “Nope. You’re going to move your lazy ass.” Bailey wasn’t taking any shit today. “Ride him over to where we practice.”

  Grant, Tyler, and Carter had raked out a flat area, still on Campbell land, and hauled out extra dirt and shavings to make a landing place for practice falls. They rehearsed more difficult stunts there, the ones that needed a lot of room.

  “We’ll do something easy at first,” Bailey said. “Get some momentum, and then take a dive.”

  Adam’s throat closed up, his mouth drying. But he sucked in a breath and told his brain to calm down. He could do this.

  He approached the beginning of the run and put Buster into a lope. Buster knew the drill. He moved on, picking up speed into a faster canter, which scooped Bailey tight against Adam. Good horse.

  “Like this,” Bailey called, and then her warmth was gone, and there was empty space where she’d been.

  Adam swung back to see Bailey heading for the ground, tucking in her arms, letting her shoulder take the fall, rolling with it. A good landing, but Adam wheeled Buster around in alarm, vaulting out of the saddle before he was aware of what he was doing.

  He landed on his feet, but his busted-up leg bent. He went down into a roll, automatically coming out of it and ending up on his feet again.

  He ran to Bailey, reached down, and pulled her up. “What the fuck?” he demanded.

  Bailey broke his hold to brush herself off. She had dirt on her cheek, dried grass in her hair.

  Adam pulled at the bits of grass, distracted by her softness. “You all right?” he asked.

  Bailey regarded him in surprise. “I’m fine. Your brothers trained me.” She grinned. “I meant to do that.”

  “I know.” Adam tightened his grip. “But seeing you fall … I don’t like it.”

  Bailey’s bright smile vanished. “We’ve had this discussion before. I love to ride. I love the stunts. I had a great time on that shoot with Grant while you were recovering. When I’m riding, I feel alive. It’s the only thing that knocked me awake after my awful divorce, and I’m not letting you take it away from me.
Understand?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Adam went still as Bailey’s voice rose with her agitation. If he wasn’t comfortable with himself when he was in danger of crying, he was even worse when women started in, Bailey in particular.

  Her smiles were gone, her face was flushed, her eyes bright. This was important to her—desperately important. Adam got that, but all he wanted to do was protect her. He didn’t care about anything else right now, not even Buster flipping his tail as he ran for the hills.

  “I’m not trying to take it away from you,” Adam said, impatient. “I’m trying to keep you safe.”

  Bailey planted her hands on her hips, furious at him—again. “Well, you can’t. Life isn’t safe. It’s always waiting to whack us in the ass when we least expect it. People get hurt. Friends and family die. We can’t stop it. We have to grab on to what we have, and love the people we love as hard as we can while we still have them. ’Cause you never know what shit will happen.”

  Bailey’s eyes shone with tears. “Hey.” Adam rested his hands on her shoulders. “I’m not trying to take anything from you. But thinking of you being hurt—that kind of kills me inside.”

  The tears overflowed. “Stop it. Stop pretending you want to take care of me. I take care of myself just fine.”

  “I’m not pretending.” Adam stepped back, unable to keep still in his rising anger. “You want to know what the worst thing is for a guy? To see a woman we care about hurting. It makes us want to hit something. Makes it worse when we can’t do anything about it.”

  Bailey wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “You’re very macho.”

  “It’s the truth. That’s why we walk away sometimes and don’t say anything. We’re trying to figure out how to make it better. We don’t always know. And that’s hard.”

  Bailey swiped away the last of her tears. “I told you I’d help you, and I will. But don’t take something from me that makes me want to get up in the morning. I spent a lot of mornings wondering why I should bother.”

  “You’re not making me like that bastard you married any better. You sure you won’t tell me where he lives? He still in Austin? I’m thinking about making the drive. Maybe taking Carter with me.”

  Bailey gave him a weak grin. “Much as I’d like to see that … I don’t want you arrested for assault on top of everything else.”

  “I have good lawyers and know a lot of cops.” Adam moved closer to her. “I guess we’ve both been beaten up. We’re both hurting—maybe we should have stayed home and left the world alone.” He took her dirty hand between his. “It’s you and me now, Bailey. How about we help each other?”

  She flushed a brighter red, her agitated look gone. Adam hoped she’d step against him, agreeing, maybe sealing the bargain with a kiss, but instead, she did a brief eye-roll.

  “You’re back to being a sweet-talker, aren’t you?” She gave him an exasperated look, then turned to scan the hills. “Don’t you think we should catch Buster? He’ll be halfway to the highway by now.”

  **

  Buster had stopped on the next rise, his head down, nibbling grass around his bit. He paid no attention to Adam, no matter how much Adam whistled and called.

  When Bailey cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted his name, Buster lifted his head and came trotting back. Reluctantly, but he came.

  Adam shot Bailey a dark look as she caught the reins, which by some miracle had stayed around Buster’s neck and hadn’t broken. “Did you do witchcraft on him or something?”

  “No.” Bailey patted Buster. “He likes women, is all.”

  “Him and me both. All right, Bailey.” Adam opened his hands and gave her his best charming look. “I’m done pissing you off for the day. Let’s ride.”

  Bailey stayed on the ground, and Adam, who seemed a little more relaxed, rode up and down the practice area, getting comfortable in the saddle once more.

  She got lost watching him again, Adam’s riding skills even more obvious out in the open. His hat kept his face shaded, only the glitter of his eyes flashing as he looked around.

  He made a timeless picture. If a hundred years fell away, Adam wouldn’t look out of place at all, riding easily along the rolling hills, a son of Texas under endless sky.

  Bailey watched until she convinced herself she should do something more than admire him. She cleared her throat of dust.

  “Ready?” she called out.

  Adam turned Buster and loped back. “Depends. What are you going to make me do?”

  “How about a dead-man ride?”

  She clapped her mouth shut over the words as soon as she said them. Though it was the Campbells’ term for the move, she worried it would trigger Adam’s anger or grief. Adam only gave her a nod. “Sure. Cue me.”

  He took off his hat, dropped it to her as he went by, then rode Buster down to the end of the run. Bailey watched him halt the horse, square his shoulders, and then put Buster into a gallop.

  As he passed, Bailey yelled, “Bang!”

  Buster, knowing the drill, came off his front legs a few inches, then plunged back down again, running on. Adam faked taking a bullet, letting his arms fly open, then his body went limp.

  They had several ways they played dead in the saddle. Slumped forward, falling back flat, or dangling off one side. Adam chose to go backward over the cantle, his feet still in the stirrups, his arms flopping as though the hero of the show had potted him good. Adam did it so well that Bailey bit her lip. Too realistic. No wonder stunt coordinators wanted him.

  Buster kept going until the end of the run, then he slowed to a walk. He’d done his part; the take was over.

  Adam heaved himself up, regained his seat, and rode back to Bailey. “That was stiff,” he said. “I’m out of practice.”

  “Not the point.” Bailey held his hat in front of her, but he didn’t reach for it. “How did that feel?”

  “Stiff,” Adam repeated. “But I know what you’re asking. Not bad. I’m kind of running on automatic pilot.”

  “That’s good.” Bailey gave him an encouraging smile. “It means you’re relaxing. Not getting in your own way.”

  He frowned. “If this is supposed to be therapy, it’s not working.”

  “Don’t be a shit. This is me helping you get ready to whup Kyle’s ass at the Fall Festival.”

  Adam’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you want me to so bad? I thought you liked Kyle.”

  She flushed. “I do, but he had no business challenging you. I didn’t think picking on an injured man was his style.”

  Something flickered in Adam’s eyes, but he only shrugged. “We’ve always torn it up. Come on, I won’t win doing simple falls or taking fake shots. Everyone in town will expect to see me up to what I used to do. I need to get to work.”

  He sounded better, looked better. The lines around Adam’s eyes were tight, but his face was set with determination.

  Bailey sent him off again. He practiced more dead-man rides, falling forward on the horse, arms and legs dangling, then hanging on to the saddle while half falling off the side as Buster kept running. Buster was best for this, because he didn’t mind his rider’s weight shifting around. He compensated and did what he loved best—run.

  Adam agreed to try some falls after a while. Easy ones at first, dives and rolls, which had him quickly back on his feet. The dirt and shavings were at least a foot and a half thick—Adam told her it provided more padding from riding falls than he got on many movie shoots.

  Finally, he let himself go over backwards, tumbling from Buster’s rump to land in a heap, again so realistically that Bailey couldn’t prevent herself running over to him.

  Adam rolled to a sitting position, looking fine as she bent over him.

  “It’s hot,” was all he said, taking his hat from her. “Let’s take a break.”

  Afternoon had come, and with it heat. September might be fall in other places in the country, but here temperatures still climbed into the nineties, sometimes bre
aking a hundred.

  Buster would need to rest as well. He was always game to work, but ruining him in the heat was not what Bailey had in mind.

  “We missed lunch,” Bailey said, checking the time. “Maybe your mom kept something for us.”

  “You hungry?” Adam asked, sounding surprised.

  “Not really. But I thought you wanted to go back to the house.”

  “No, I said I wanted to take a break. Call Buster. We’ll need him.”

  Bailey, mystified, shouted for Buster, who returned, lolling along, unconcerned. Adam mounted without assistance, then held his hand down for Bailey to join him.

  Before she could scramble onto the back of the saddle, Adam grabbed her and sat her down cross-ways in front of him. He started Buster off at a slow jog, flashing Bailey a brief grin.

  His eyes were dark blue under the hat’s shading brim, the shadow obscuring the ruined part of his face. He was handsome Adam again, sweeping Bailey off her feet—this time literally.

  Adam rode away from the training area, up another hill, and down into a valley where a branch of the river cut in. The inlet was deep, surrounded by trees, a good place for swimming or lazing around in rowboats.

  No boaters were there today. Adam took Buster at a walk along the path that led to the inlet’s shore, a wide, flat spot that backed onto a narrow dirt road. The rutted road was the only access to the place for vehicles; it was much easier to approach down trails on horseback.

  Adam lowered Bailey from the saddle, then swung off, dropped the reins, loosened the cinch, and dragged the saddle down. He pulled off the bridle as well. Buster trotted about two feet before his head was down, the horse nibbling grass. Now that he was free to run, he wouldn’t—he was like that.

  Adam hung his hat on the nearest tree branch and peeled off his shirt.

  “What are you …” Bailey trailed off as his hard torso came into view, slick with sweat and touched by sunshine.

  Adam put his hand to his belt buckle. “Going for a swim. What do you think I’m doing?”

  His belt came off, then his boots.