Page 57 of Savage Heart

A few of the kids are already lined up with horses, helmets on and backs straight. A counselor explains what they’ve learned—how to mount, how to cue, how to move with the animal instead of against it.

And then I see him.

Maverick leans against the rail, cowboy hat pulled low, arms crossed over his chest. Cocky as hell. His boots are dusty, and his jeans fit him like a second skin. I can see how vivid his eyes are even from here. He looks entirely too good to be true.

I hate that I still see that when I look at him.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about swaying with him on that dance floor that felt too small. His words were jarring and teasing . . . and cruel, like he needed me to bleed a little to remind himself why he hated me. Then my lungs locked up. The world tilted.

And he didn’t let me fall.

His gaze lifts and finds mine, like he knows I’m here.

The air tightens.

We don’t smile or look away. We just acknowledge each other with that measured, brittle awareness.

Linc squeezes my hand.

“Look, there’s Copper. That’s my horse,” he whispers, pointing.

I swallow hard and nod. “He’s still so beautiful.”

Linc grins at me and lets go, walking to Copper. He mounts easily and settles into the saddle. My heart swells so fast it hurts.

“Attaboy,” Maverick calls, voice easy, confident.

The sound of it glides over my skin, making me shiver despite the heat.

No. He is not getting to me today. I refuse to let that happen.

Linc rides the pattern perfectly. When he finishes, polite applause ripples through the parents.

I clap hard, blinking back tears.

“He’s good,” Maverick says beside me.

I didn’t hear him walk over.

“Yes, he is,” I reply quietly. “He loves it.”

Maverick nods, eyes on Linc. “He’s got your instincts.”

I look at him, shocked.

“I’m grateful,” I say finally, forcing the words past my throat. “That you’ve let him be part of this.”

“I did it for Lincoln,” he says, walking away.

Yeah, that’s about right. I should be used to Maverick Harrington walking away by now. My heart tries to feel bruised, but I shove that feeling way, way down.

The barn doors are open wide, night air rolling through and stirring the dust. Horses shift in their stalls, leather creaks, and the low murmur of parents fills the space.

I’m watching Linc brush his horse when someone says my name.

“Hey, Iris.”

I turn, heart thudding too fast.