Page 21 of Light on Love
Uncurling from his arms, Laurel leans back and turns to him, taking him in. Brett is spread out on the couch, his legs apart with one knee bent and one leg stretched out lazily.
His jeans are taut across his hips this way and she forces her eyes upward rather than lingering. His one arm is draped over the back of the couch where she was just seated, the other is holding the back of his neck, partially lost in his hair. That hair she loves so much, trained back loosely from a hat holding it down all day, short wisps of dark dancing out around his ears. Finally, she meets his eyes, seeing the question in them.
“This,” she starts to explain waving a hand between them, but then she fumbles for words. What can she say? He wasn’t going to make a move, not a real one. She’s here for work. “Forget it.” Laurel shakes her head, trying to clear the frustration from her.
Brett lifts a hand, reaching out towards her before hesitating and placing it back over the couch. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been so casual with you. I need to go check the barns,” he murmurs. Before Laurel can explain her frustration, he stands up and heads back for the door.Was that sadness on his face, she wonders as she watches him go, nothing but the sound of the crackling fire remaining.
12
“What’s this?” Laurel asks, seeing a brown box sitting on the kitchen counter, labeled with her name scrawled across an orange post-it.She lifts the corner of the box lid and peers inside. Brett is leaning in the doorway surveying her carefully. When he doesn’t answer, she closes the corner of the box again.
At this, he approaches and takes the lid off revealing rich cognac colored cowgirl boots, detailed with cream threading. Laurel studies them, mesmerized, before looking up at Brett. He shrugs, “I figured you’d need them here at some point. I asked Floyd to get them the last time he was in town.”
Laurel takes one from the box and runs her finger along the threaded pattern. “Thank you,” she says, feeling her heart constrict at this gesture. A realization dawns on her in the moment. “Wait, what do I need them for?”
—
She is vibrating with excitement as Brett secures the saddle on the horse he’s selected for her today. He explains that Duneis a smart, skilled horse, and that he recalls her and Dune taking quickly to one another the day of the barbecue. She looks down at the new boots on her feet and feels a pang of guilt for having been frustrated with Brett last night. He’s been so compassionate towards her since she got here, how could she really believe that his flirting is a game?
After he’d left for the barn, she started cooking a creamy stew and packed it in a container for him before going to bed. She couldn’t hear anyone in the kitchen from her room, and she wondered if he’d passed on the food. This morning though, she noticed the empty container in the sink and a post-it on the counter saying he had never had better stew. Seeing that normalcy between them helped ease some of the tension she had felt in her chest all night. But being together now, it’s rushing back.
“Your steed is ready for you.”
At Brett’s voice, she tears her gaze away from her boots, sucking in a breath. Laurel watches as Brett steps off to the side of Dune, giving her an excessive amount of space to approach the horse. This just makes the pang inside her twist deeper; she didn’t want space from him.
“You didn’t have anything to apologize for last night, you didn’t cross a boundary. I’m sorry I made you feel that way,” she blurts out in a rush.
His only response is a nod, but she notices a bob of his throat before she continues. “And can you please help me get up there?” She waves a hand at the waiting seat atop Dune.
As if he had been waiting for permission to approach her again, Brett closes the distance in a few quick strides and places both his hands on her waist. He lifts her after securing her first foot in the stirrup so she can swing her other leg over. Once Brett is sure she’s settled in her saddle, he steps away to mount Maverick.
Laurel buttons her bomber jacket as she watches him move with such ease. Brett fits his towering horse, but she wonders why he gave her one just as large. Maybe it is all about the connection, and she certainly has bonded the most with Dune. She runs her hand along the blonde horse as they begin across the first pasture.
October arrived a few short days ago, bringing with it an explosion of color. There’s a flurry of joy in Laurel to be able to take in the golden grasses and bold autumn trees on the ride today. As Brett brings Maverick to fall in step beside her and Dune, she smiles over to him. She can’t stop smiling. For the scene around her, for the company with her. They ride in a peaceful silence, side by side, as the fields end at an entrance to a mountain pass.
The bob and sway of Dune’s steps are rhythmic to Laurel as they climb the mountain, the autumn breeze dancing in his blonde mane. As the path winds upward, it becomes narrower. When it’s only wide enough for one, Maverick moves to takes lead in front of Dune, who is content to fall back.
Laurel is also content to fall behind now that Brett is in her direct line of sight. She can’t help but take him in, his broad shoulders and strong legs, his light-colored cowboy hat contrasting his dark hair that flips out from under it.
She notices that he looks at home, relaxed even, atop his horse. As if he can feel her staring, he looks over his shoulder at her. Flicking the brim of his hat in acknowledgment, the corner of his lip lifts just slightly.
Weaving through the wild country, they come to a plateau with a clearing in the trees. Brett brings Maverick to a halt, Dune following suit. Looking out at the scene beyond the ridge, Laurel is rendered speechless. The river running through Hayes Ranch is a stony blue chasm amongst the golds, reds, oranges, and pine. The farmhouse also stands out, a bright white beacon fromthe sunlight reflecting off it, overshadowing the more subtle cluster of barns.
“It’s just so beautiful” she comments in awe, pulling her eyes from the landscape to find Brett watching her.
“Yeah, beautiful is what I was thinking too.”
The words hang between them for just a moment before he maneuvers his horse away from the edge and dismounts. He tosses his reins over a tree branch and motions for her and Dune to approach. The horse obeys her guide and soon Brett is reaching up and cradling her to the ground.When his hands leave her once again, Laurel realizes she is getting dangerously comfortable being in his embrace.
He turns back to Maverick, pulling a flannel blanket and a pack from his cantle bag. She watches as Brett walks to the ridge and lays the blanket out, taking a seat on it. She sits beside him while he pulls a thermos from the pack and holds it out to her.
Laurel eagerly reaches for it, savoring the warmth in her hands, and takes a drink of the cider inside. Next, he pulls out a cooler pack filled with meats, cheeses, and fruits before finally setting out a package of croissants. She raises an eyebrow at him, taking in the spread he’s laid out. Brett only shrugs in response, reaching for food.
They eat comfortably in the warm sun, and when Brett finishes, he takes the cowboy hat off his head and places it on Laurel’s. He tips her chin up with one finger and flashes an amused smile. “You look good in a Stetson,” he says as he lays back on the blanket, interlocking his hands behind his head. She squeezes her eyes shut and inhales the crisp mountain air, a smile blooming across her face.
“Is riding as good as you remember?” he asks, looking up at her. She turns and leans back on her elbow to face him.
“This is better than I remember.”