Page 65 of Wild Highway (Runaway 2)

Except I’d spent a month studying Gemma’s face. She was doing her best to block out her thoughts and maybe others wouldn’t notice, but I saw the hurt she was burying.

“You okay?”

She nodded and forced a smile. “Great.”

That was a total lie. But if I pushed, she’d shut me out completely, so I’d wait until she was ready to talk.

“Jigsaw needs a workout. Let’s go for a ride.”

“Actually, I think I’m going to go—”

“For a ride. With me.” I jerked my chin toward Sprite’s stall. “Get her curried off. Then I want you to saddle her today.”

“What if I don’t want to go for a ride?” She fisted her hands on her hips.

“Too bad.” I stepped close and took her chin in my grip, holding her gaze for a moment.

There were so many incredible things about this woman. She was smart and driven. She was beautiful and loving. But damn if she wasn’t blind.

Would she ever see what was in front of her?

Everything she wanted, everything she needed, was right here. A home. A family.

Me.

I’d stopped lying to myself over the past month. My heart was hers—it had been since the moment she’d nearly knocked me down on the lodge’s front porch. I’d stopped pretending that my feelings for her weren’t as real as the breath in my lungs or the pulse in my veins.

I’d stopped kidding myself that it wouldn’t destroy me when she left.

Because I believed she’d leave.

And I wasn’t going to beg her to stay.

“Holler after you get Sprite combed.” I leaned in and dropped a kiss on her forehead.

“Okay.” She didn’t argue because, deep down, I think she needed some air and a ride as much as I did.

It didn’t take us long to get the horses ready. Gemma was able to saddle Sprite without much help, remembering most of the steps from our first lesson. I usually only had to show her something once, then she’d tackle it on her own the next time. She remembered the details that most dismissed.

No wonder she’d been so successful in Boston.

The woman was brilliant and her determination to succeed was unmatched.

As we started across the snowy meadow, the horses antsy and happy to be out, Gemma kept her eyes aimed forward. Her coat was bundled up to her neck and she’d pulled on a slou

chy beanie.

“Loosen up on the reins,” I said. “Sprite’s not going to buck you off. Just relax.”

Gemma blew out a long breath, doing as I’d instructed.

“Good. Now let’s talk. What’s wrong, darlin’?”

She didn’t say anything for a full two minutes—I counted the seconds tick by—but then she looked at me and shrugged. “I’m jealous.”

“Jealous. Of?”

“Katherine. She found a mother. Yours. And I’m so, so happy for her. But I’m jealous too. And I’m angry at myself for being jealous.”