Page 86 of Dallas Rivals

This week he’s been working from the ranch so he can spend more time here. I like having him around all day. Sometimes I catch him spying through the window of his study and now, instead of annoying me like it used to, it makes my cheeks burn.

Taking advantage of this rare moment alone —my mom’s usually with me now—I decide to finally say what’s been stuck in my throat for days.

“Oliver” I whisper “The rehab center is hosting a Thanksgiving dinner. My folks are going, we’ll go with them, so you and yours have the house to yourselves.”

Oliver lifts his hat off his face and sits up beside me.

“Why?”

“Well, you know my dad. He doesn’t want to be a bother, and since the center’s throwing this big meal…”

“But there’s room for everyone here. I want them here.” His voice is getting firmer.

“I know, but you know how he is.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna put some sense into his head,” he mutters under his breath. “I want you at my table, Cala. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have a full table this year.”

I feel his eyes on me and I look away. Suddenly the feelings clog my throat, feelings I shouldn’t have for my boss, and I want to swallow them down and make them disappear.

“I thought it’d be good for your family time. We can⁠—”

“You are my family too,” he interrupts. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. It’s not up for debate.”

I smile and meet his gaze. Sometimes he makes me feel like I belong, like I belong to him, but that warmth vanishes whenever my parents or Eliza are around. I don’t even want to imagine how tense things will be when his brothers arrive. Oliver gets cold when there are people watching, and I get it, what we have isn’t exactly convenient, and if we let it grow it could end up messy.

“It’s time for your training,” he says, voice back to that firm tone. I know I miffed him, but I had to get this out before my dad did.

This past week, we’ve been training with the horses an hour before sunset. The sessions are the highlight of my day. Oliver knows everything there is to know about horses and somehow, he’s endlessly patient with me.

He takes my hand and helps me up. My favorite is Ruby, the cow-wannabe mare, sweet, steady, and forgiving of my mistakes.

Oliver’s hands always find the most distracting places when he helps me mount or dismount. His touch sends sparks down my spine, and he knows it, because he always gives me that half-smile, the devilish one.

I’m finally starting to feel like I can handle the animal and I’m not just talking about Ruby.

“Do you feel that freedom up there?” he calls out as I ride past him.

Yeah.

There’s no better way to describe it. And I can’t wait to find out what it’s like out in the open fields.

On my last lap around the corral, I slow Ruby and stop beside him.

“It’s an incredible feeling,” I say, still catching my breath.

His hands find my waist to help me down.

“I feel that every time I’m with you,” he says quietly, his eyes fixed on the mare instead of me.

I can’t say a word.

Whatever comes out of my mouth could damn us both. But maybe I don’t have to, because he sees it in my eyes.

Oliver ties the mare to the fence, just far enough to hide us from the house, and strides toward me with purpose.

He tilts my chin up and kisses me.

Soft.