Page 34 of Stables Spurs Suits
“Fuuuuuck,” I cry out, yanking on the reins.
“Matthew, pull up,” I hear Atlas call from somewhere behind me, but the fence is so close. I try one more time, closing my eyes tight, and then I’m airborne, flying forward. My eyes spring open just as I clear the fence, tumbling into the long grass on the other side and landing flat on my back with a painful thud. My chest burns, my throat is raw from my screaming attempts to stop him. “I… couldn’t…” I try to yell to Atlas, but my lungs ache, and every breath is painful and short.
A snort from behind me pulls my gaze, and I tilt my head back in time to see Atlas coming to a stop beside Whiskey, who is eating grass safely still on the other side of the fence. He must have pulled up just in time and thrown me over.
“Are you dead?” Atlas asks, more humor in his tone than I’d like.
Before I can answer, a big wet tongue slides up the side of my face. I roll sideways, every muscle aching when I do, and push up onto my knees to find a large black sheep standing there.
“Looks like you made a new friend,” Atlas laughs.
“That was gross. And that,” I say, looking up at the hill we came down. “Was the scariest thing I have ever done in my whole life.”
“More terrifying than getting buck naked with me last night?”
“Way worse.”
“Good, because we need to get you back to the trailer so I can check you out. Think you can stand?”
Any other time, hearing that sentence out of Atlas’s mouth would have been the biggest turn on, but right now, I’m in too much pain to think about anything except how to get up onto my feet. I crawl toward the fence, lean on the wooden post, and push up onto one knee, then Atlas is there, stepping through the wire and scooping one arm behind my back to help me up.
“I got you,” he says in that steady husky tone of his, and I feel completely safe. My legs could probably give out right now, and he’d just pick me up and carry me back to his trailer, no problem. Suddenly, I almost want to see if that’s true. I don’t, though. He helps me through the gap in the wire fence and up onto his horse, then he keeps the reins in his hand as he climbs up onto Whiskey and makes a sort of clicking sound at the back of his mouth. Whiskey makes a start back up the hill like Atlas was talking some secret horse language, Thor following alongside as I try to stay upright. It’s not easy. My legs tremble as I try to grip the wider saddle, and I feel myself leaning forward more and more the further we go.
“You can hug his head if it’s easier,” Atlas says, glancing over his shoulder at me.
“You sure?” I ask, already leaning down.
“Positive. Here,” he says, taking my hand, the warmth of his touch spreading through my arm. “Hold him here.” He guides my hand down the side of Thor’s long neck, and my head rests against the side of his mane of black hair as I watch Atlas the whole way back to the ranch. He bypasses the stables and leads us through the paddocks, right up to his trailer, before he climbs down and helps me slowly get off Thor. My back doesn’t hurt as much now, but my shoulder is aching, and my legs feel like I’ve just spent a few hours at the gym using all those fancy machinesI used to use. Back when the gym was how I got a workout. Since coming here, I haven’t needed to go looking for exercise; every day on this ranch awakens muscles I never knew I had. Today, it’s several new ones that hopefully aren’t torn or broken.
Atlas leads me to his hammock chair and then goes and takes the saddles and reins off the horses, letting them into the paddocks beside the trailer.
“Okay, now they’re taken care of, time for you. Shirt off,” he says, and my cheeks immediately grow warm. I reach for the first button, and then wince at the shooting pain that spreads through my shoulder.
“Here. Let me help,” he says, kneeling between my legs, and I rest back in the chair. His hands slowly unbutton the flannel. Did I hit my head? Am I hallucinating?
“I don’t want to wake up,” I whisper, and he lets out a soft chuckle.
“You okay there?” he asks, opening my shirt and pulling it partway over my shoulders, almost pinning my arms in place at my sides. He massages down my arms, a frown stitched into his brow as he goes. “Does this hurt?” he asks, and I shake my head just a little.
He pulls me forward and leans in close to check over my shoulder, my shirt shoved all the way down my back. Every breath is filled with the scent of him. Delicious and warm and sweet. My head spins a little, and I almost lean against him, but catch myself just in time.
“What about this?” Atlas asks, and he lifts my right arm up as he moves back.
“A little stiff. I mean sore. It hurts a little,” I fumble, and he just smiles that warm, kind smile he normally reserves for the horses. “Well, I think you’ll live.”
“I don’t know, I kind of feel like I might die of embarrassment any second now,” I say, and he goes to stand,but my hands reach out and grip his forearms, fixing him in place.
“Don’t leave,” I plead, my heart hammering so loud he has to be able to hear it.
“You’ve had a scare. That excitement is easy to mistake for something else. You’re not thinking straight,” he says, but his gaze lingers on my mouth for that moment longer than just a simple glance.
“I’m not,” I say, and he goes to move away again, but I hold him firm. “Straight, I mean.”
“Okay,” he says, like he’s not sure where this conversation is headed. I’m not entirely sure I know where it’s headed either. I just know that I want him to stay exactly where he is, between my legs.
“I guess you kind of probably guessed that, what with the kiss in the pool and all,” I say, and he shrugs.
“Dancing with Loki was probably what really gave you away.”
