Cowboy in the Crossfire

After a half hour of mindless chores, regret and strategizing, Blake knew he couldn’t avoid the stallion any longer. He grabbed a flake of hay and eased toward the stall. The animal puffed a breath through his nose and rose on his hind legs, batting the air.

“He looks dangerous.” Amanda’s whisper filtered from behind.

Blake’s heart skipped a beat at her voice. Utter aloneness had settled over him like a soggy, woolen blanket in this barn full of memories. The loss. The grief. Now, something inside of him longed to touch her, to turn to her. He’d wanted to hold her for longer than he cared to admit. He knew what her lips tasted like. He remembered so clearly when he’d come upon her under the mistletoe two years ago. Vince had egged him on, and she’d blushed, smiling, closing her eyes for a friendly kiss that had turned into so much more. When Blake had lowered his mouth to hers, the electricity between them knocked him over. He’d wrapped his arms around her. She’d parted her mouth under his.

Only the whoops and hollers had stopped him from sweeping her into a bedroom. One look at Vince’s dark expression, though, and Blake had pushed the episode aside. He should do the same thing now. His first duty was to protect her and her son, not succumb to long-denied desires.

“He is dangerous. He doesn’t like strangers.” Blake shifted his body between her and Sugar. “Where’s Ethan?”

“Asleep,” she said softly, eyeing the snorting horse. “He just nodded off. I’m glad. He needed the rest. He didn’t get much on the drive here.”

“Or last night.”

Blake studied her every movement, the straightening of her spine, the flash of frustration in her eyes, the challenging tilt of her chin.

“You could’ve left me with him. I’d have taken care of him.”

“You needed the rest, too.” Blake took in the dark circles under her eyes, but he couldn’t let sympathy derail him. She hadn’t been honest. She had to start. He needed to know more. “Ethan screamed in his sleep.”