Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
“She’s got me thinking about it,” I admit quietly. “Hell, I’d marry her tomorrow if she’d have me.”
The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the soft whistle of the wind through the trees.
“You’re serious,” Creed says, his voice low with surprise.
I nod, glancing at him. “She’s not like anyone else I’ve ever met. But like I said, there’s more to her than she’s letting on.”
Cruz claps me on the shoulder, his grin wide. “Then figure it out, man. Don’t let her slip away.”
The conversation shifts after that, the brothers teasing Archer about his newfound domesticity while we play another hand of poker. But my thoughts keep drifting back to Indie. By the time the game wraps up, I’ve made up my mind.
After my brothers pack up and head down the trail, I grab my tools and head to the barn. Copper, my old mare, lost a shoe earlier, and I need to get her sorted before tomorrow. The barn is cool and quiet, the scent of hay and leather grounding me as I work.
“Alright, girl,” I murmur, running a hand along Copper’s flank. “Let’s get you fixed up.”
As I bend to work, the rhythm of the task settles my restless thoughts. But Indie’s face keeps creeping into my mind—the way she tilts her chin up at me, refusing to back down. The fire in her eyes when she talks about what she wants, what she believes in. She’s a force of nature, and for the first time in my life, I’m starting to wonder if I could be the kind of man who’s strong enough to stand beside her.
When the last nail is in place, I straighten and pat Copper’s side. “You know,” I say to the mare, “it’d be nice to have a woman around here. Someone who doesn’t smell like the barn or argue back as much as you do.”
Copper huffs, flicking her tail at me, and I chuckle. “What do you think, girl? Am I crazy for thinking about love? About a future?”
The horse doesn’t answer, of course, but the stillness of the barn feels like it’s listening. I glance out at the night sky, the stars just beginning to peek through. For the first time in years, I let myself imagine it—a life with someone like Indie. Laughter in the house, the smell of cookies baking in the kitchen, maybe even the sound of little feet running across the floor someday.
“Guess I’m a fool,” I mutter, grabbing my tools and heading for the door. “But damn if it doesn’t feel like a good kind of foolish.”
Chapter Seven
Indie
The barn is quiet, the hum of crickets outside filling the night with a low, steady rhythm. The warm glow of the single lantern hanging from a beam above us casts shadows across King’s broad frame. He stands by the stall door, a brush in hand, stroking it along his mare’s side with slow, deliberate movements.
I’m leaning against the opposite wall, my feet aching from the walk from town, fingers running along the leather of a worn bridle, but my eyes keep drifting to him. There’s something about the way he moves—steady, confident, sure. Like the whole world could fall apart around him and he’d just keep going, one step at a time.
“You gonna hand me that horse blanket, or just stare at me all night?” he rumbles, his deep voice breaking through the quiet.
My cheeks burn. I snap my gaze back to the leather straps, fumbling to adjust the buckles. “I’m not staring. Just... thinking.”
“Thinking, huh?” He snorts, glancing at me over his shoulder. “What about?”
“About how you need better lighting in here,” I quip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much space he’s taking up in my thoughts.
“Lighting’s fine. You just need better focus.” He smirks, the corner of his mouth tugging upward in a way that makes my stomach flip.
“Focus isn’t the problem,” I shoot back, trying to ignore the heat pooling low in my belly. “Your ego, though? That might need some work.”
He chuckles, low and rough, the sound rolling over me like a wave. “Says the woman who keeps coming around my mountain.”
I don’t have a good retort for that, so I keep my mouth shut and finish adjusting the bridle. When I finally glance up, he’s watching me, his dark eyes glinting in the lantern light. The intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down my spine, and I can’t tell if it’s from the cool night air or something else entirely.
“Come here,” he says, his tone softer now, but no less commanding.
I hesitate for half a second before stepping toward him. There’s no point in pretending I don’t want to. The pull between us is magnetic, impossible to resist. I stop just short of where he stands, the air between us crackling with unspoken tension.