Chapter 11

Ash

"Too much?" I ask my reflection, checking over my hat and boots in the standing mirror at the corner of the room. I can't decide if I look ridiculous or like a real Montana cowboy.

Deciding maybe the hat is one step too far— for now —I leave it on my bed and make my way downstairs.

It's cool today, and I'm grateful for the lining in my jacket as I head across the grounds to the horse barn. Jackson texted me not long ago to say he was there getting the horses ready for our trail ride. I've had butterflies in my stomach ever since.

He didn't call this a date, not exactly. But I'm fairly sure that's what it is. Especially considering Jackson told me we'll be going out on our own, not with either of today's scheduled trail-riding groups.

Definitely a date.

I try not to swallow my tongue as I step into the barn and set eyes on Jackson himself. He's hefting a saddle onto the black horse I often see him riding. The man is fine. Painfully fine. His jeans fit him well, his jacket is open, gifting me with a view of his shirt that's ridden above the line of his belt buckle, and his short beard looks freshly shaved, the reddish-brown strands giving him a rugged appeal not unlike the landscape around here.

It's a shame to look away, but seeing Shorty saddled up and ready to go, I head his way and give a low whistle. "My main man, look at you."

Jackson's head pops up, a bewildered expression on his face before he realizes I'm talking to the horse. I keep my laughter to myself as I greet Shorty, petting the stripe on his nose and letting his nostrils tickle my palm.

I step Jackson's way next. "Afternoon, Jack."

His responding, "Afternoon," sounds like a grumble.

"You look good," I tell him.

It takes Jackson a second to register that I'm talking to him this time. He grunts, tightening his horse's saddle.

"Can't take a compliment," I say, shaking my head as I offer my hand to the black horse to sniff. "He's pretty. What's his name?"

"Starlight," Jackson says, straightening up and giving the saddle a testing wiggle. "Don't ask. Remi named him when he was eight."

"Which makes Starlight how old?"

"Twenty."

I hum, fingers drifting over the white shape on Starlight's forehead. It does look almost like a star.

"What's that?" I ask, noticing Jackson heft two leather bags onto Starlight's back. They're connected with a strap such that the bags sit on either side of his spine. Saddlebags, maybe?

"Supplies," he says. "Just in case."

"And how treacherous are these trails?" I ask, only half-joking.

Jackson huffs. "Not bad, so long as you stay where you're supposed to. This is just… It's nothing."

Well, that's not suspicious.

"Okay, Jack," I say slowly. "Keep your secrets. For the record, I like surprises."

He shakes his head, lips twisting.

Once Starlight is ready to go, Jackson instructs me to lead Shorty out of the barn. I grab his reins, feeling like a seasoned pro. That is, until it's time to get up in the saddle.

"Go ahead," Jackson says. "You first."

"Are you going to feel me up again?" I ask, sticking my foot in the stirrup. I bounce on my toe, getting ready.

"I didn't feel you up," he says, sounding put-out.

"Oh, you did."

"I didn't—"

"Did."

"Christ. Get on the damn horse already," he gripes.

Huffing a laugh, I pull myself up, the motion easier now that I know what I'm doing. My leg makes it over Shorty's back, and I let out a triumphant, "Aha!"

Jackson shakes his head, although there's a smile quirking his cheek as he checks my stirrups. He stills as soon as he notices my boots.

"Do you like them?" I ask, twisting the heel his way.

"They'll hold up better than what you had," he allows, giving my leg a pat that has a zing traveling up my body. He rounds the horse to check my other stirrup.

"You can tell me I look good in my new boots, Jack."

"You're impossible," he mutters. He fixes my second stirrup before declaring me good to go.

I'm about to fire off a retort— why yes, I'm always good to go around you —when Jackson grabs his horse's saddle and swings up into riding position in a motion so seamless and fluid, I don't even remember seeing him leave the ground. I blink, my breath suddenly coming short.

Ho boy .

"Ready?" Jackson asks, gathering the reins in his hand.

"Ready and raring," I rasp.

Jackson clicks his tongue, and Starlight sets into motion.

I stare at the man's assfor a moment. "Good grief," I mutter, getting Shorty moving after him. Speaking louder, I ask, "How far are we going?"

"However far we want," Jackson answers. "We've got a few different trails marked out. The longest ones reach the base of the mountains."

I look off in that direction. The mountains are closer here than in town, but they still seem so far away.

"Does anyone ever get lost?" I ask.

Jackson huffs what might be a laugh. "No. We know these trails. And guests aren't allowed off on their own."

That's reassuring, at least.

Jackson leads me to the tree line at the back of the property and then directs his horse through a break in the vegetation, me at his heel. We settle into a leisurely walk along a well-trodden dirt path, the sun intermittently blinking through the leaves of the trees. It's quiet. Just the soft sounds of birds and the occasional moo accompany the clomp of the horses' hooves.

I look around, content to enjoy the scenery and the gentle side-to-side sway of riding horseback. I also can't help but enjoy the gentle sway of Jackson's ass. I'm only human.

It isn't long before there's a split in the path. Jackson goes left, sticking close to the tree line. I catch sight of someone out in the pastures, but they're too far away to tell who it is.

"You can talk, you know," Jackson saysafter a while.

"Oh, you're giving me permission, are you?"

He glances back at me, a subtle roll of his eyes visible before he faces forward again. "Like you need permission. I just mean—I won't mind."

I hum to myself. "I was enjoying the view."

He looks over his shoulder again.

"Very nice trees," I say with a smile.

And truthfully, they are. The leaves have started changing color, some of the foliage more yellow now than green. There's even some red and purple. I bet, in another week or two, it'll be an autumnal masterpiece.

Jackson grunts an, "Uh-huh," clearly doubting which views I happened to be enjoying.

Never one for subtlety, I add, "Your ass is nice, as well."

"There it is," he murmurs.

I huff a laugh.

I'm not sure how far we go distance-wise, but we ride for a good hour before Jackson leads us up a gentle incline. The path isn't as wide here, and lower vegetation brushes my legs as we move. When Jackson stops in a small clearing, I do the same. He jumps down off Starlight's back and walks my way, not even tying his horse to a tree or anything. I guess he trusts him.

"Am I getting down?" I ask.

Jackson nods, standing just behind my leg and grabbing hold of my hips. For a second, I stop breathing.

"You're gonna swing this leg over the horse," he says, patting my far hip, "until you're standing in the air. Support your weight with your arms, and then let this foot"—he pats the other hip—"out of the stirrup and slide down. Less chance of tripping that way."

"I didn't trip," I say hoarsely. "It was a calculated fall."

"Mhm," he grunts. "C'mon."

Jackson gives my hips a little squeeze to encourage me, and I'm powerless to do anything other than follow his directions. He keeps his hands in place as I swing my right leg over the back of the horse. He gives me another squeeze to stall me once I'm upright.

"Now lean your weight on the horse. Yep, like that. And take your foot out of the stirrup."

I close my eyes and try really hard not to focus on the fact that I'm bending over a horse with Jackson's face quite near my ass. Not wanting to get a boner against poor Shorty's side, I pull my left foot out of the stirrup and let my weight pull me down. Jackson's hands stay on my hips, guiding me, until my feet hit dirt.

It takes a second, but Jackson lets go. "Good," he says gruffly.

I nearly groan. He should not be saying that word in that voice.

Jackson heads back toward Starlight, and I shake out my legs, trying to let the simmering heat from Jackson's touch fade away. "I'd say that was a ten out of ten dismount. What do you think?"

He shoots me a look. "Don't get cocky now."

Snorting, I stretch my back and look around. I'm a little stiff, but I'm sure that's to be expected after sitting in the saddle for so long. "Why'd we stop?" I ask.

Jackson grabs Shorty's reins and leads him next to Starlight, securing both horses to a nearby tree. "Wanted to show you something."

"Cryptic. You didn't bring me out all this way just to get rid of me, did you? Because I have to tell you—that seems like a lot of work."

He stares at me blankly. "Why would I possibly do that?"

"Oh, so you do like me."

He blinks before shaking his head. "Impossible."

Huffing a laugh, I follow Jackson as he heads up a short hill. "It's okay, Jack. I won't tell anyone you want to suck my face…"

The word off puffs out of me as I reach the top of the hill. We're standing on a natural overlook, not terribly high up but high enough for a breathtaking view. Pastureland stretches as far as the eye can see, black-and-white cows dotting the landscape. The river cuts through the fields, water glistening blue in the late afternoon sun. Far away is a fence line, so small it's barely visible.

"Is this all yours?" I ask, voice hushed.

Jackson hums. "It is, and then some. Look. There's Marty."

He points at a speck in the distance, and I laugh. "How can you tell?"

"Just can," he says.

I shake my head and glance behind us. I didn't realize it as we were heading through the woods, but we're at the base of the mountains now. They seem impossibly tall, towering above the tops of the trees. Quiet, but imposing. I can't even imagine all these mountains have seen.

"It's gorgeous here," I tell Jackson, not for the first time.

When I turn back around, I find him watching me instead of the scenery. He hums, and my pulse kicks. But then Jackson blinks and looks away.

I follow his gaze back toward the cattle, clearing my throat. "Your dad says you have a hybrid herd."

Jackson nods. "Mm. We've found a Holstein-Angus cross works best for our operation. Holsteins are good milkers, and Angus is a standard for beef. The hybrids are good for both, so we crossbreed and split 'em accordingly."

"Did you always know you wanted to be a cowboy?" I ask, Jackson's seriousness making me smile.

"I'm not—"

"Jack. You're not just a dairy farmer," I point out. "And yes, you run a ranch, so rancher is appropriate. But how is calling you a cowboy in any way incorrect?"

He simply grunts.

"Well?" I prod.

"I suppose, technically , you could call me a cowboy," he concedes, although it seems to pain him to do so.

I grin, and he huffs a breath.

"And yes," he says, sounding salty, "I always knew I wanted to do this. It's not just 'cause of my family. Lawson went his own way."

"Teaching," I say.

Jackson nods. "But for me… This life is part of who I am. I'm not sure I could ever leave it."

"I get that," I say softly.

He looks over at me again, gaze almost sharp. "Do you?"

"Yeah, Jack. You say this life is a part of you, but I think it's the other way around. I think you're a part of this place. Asking you to change that would be like…like trying to uproot these mountains. Although, frankly, I think you might be the more stubborn of the two."

Jackson doesn't laugh at my joke. He continues to stare at me in a way that's focused and almost unnerving. Just when I'm about to break the silence, he asks, "You hungry?"

"You're…not planning on catching me a fresh cow, right?"

His lips twitch. "No. I brought food."

My smile is a slow, slow thing. "Jackson Darling, did you pack us a picnic?"

He immediately scowls, making me laugh. "'Course not."

"No?" I say, following after him as he heads down the hill. "I hate to break it to you, but unless you also packed a table in those tiny bags on Starlight's back, we're eating on the ground. That, cowboy, is a picnic."

He shakes his head, his movements jerky as he opens one of the bags. "My mom packed it for us," he grumbles so quietly I nearly miss it.

I stop. And stare. After a moment of silence, Jackson glances my way.

"Not a goddamn word," he says tightly. "I didn't wanna hurt her feelings by refusing. And I thought, well… Everybody's gotta eat, right?"

I bite my lip. "You didn't want to pack me food yourself, Jack?"

He goes still. "That's not… I didn't mean…"

"I mean, damn . I wasn't expecting flowers or diamonds. But I cook you food all the time. Every day ."

His eyes widen, and oh , he's too fucking easy.

"The least you could do," I continue, pitching my voice dramatically, "is make sure I don't starve out here in the wilderness. I guess I should be grateful someone cares. I'll have to find a way to thank your mom, huh?"

"You're fucking with me," he says, deadpan.

I shrug, keeping a straight face. "Maybe I should try cougar hunting, after all."

"Ash."

"No, no. I see how it is. I'll just take Shorty and be on my way. Don't you worry about little old me."

"You're not going anywhere," Jackson rumbles, stalking after me as I head in Shorty's direction.

I pick up my pace, all but grinning now. "It's fine , Jack. I'm sure I can find my way back to the ranch by my—"

"You're not going anywhere ," he repeats, backing me up against Shorty's side.

My breath puffs out of me, pulse thundering. "No?"

"You're. Impossible," he says again, his sharp blue gaze flicking between my eyes and mouth.

"No," I counter, giving him a smile as my heart kicks. "I'm right here."

Jackson's lips are on mine before I can take a full breath. He presses forward, his body pinning me between him and Shorty. His kiss is brutal, and I'd almost think it angry if I couldn't feel the desperation behind every movement. The scrape of his stubble and the nip of teeth. The way he groans low in his chest and how he grabs my jaw like he doesn't want me going anywhere if it's not with him.

I could tell him he has nothing to worry about, but speaking isn't possible.

So instead, I grab Jackson's jacket and urge him closer. His hips meet mine, and a flash of heat soars down my spine as I feel the very obvious evidence of his arousal through the denim of his jeans. I'm about to see what Jackson will let me get away with out here in the woods when the surface at my back shifts. I don't know if our weight pushed Shorty to the side or he simply decided he'd be a cockblocking asshole, but both Jackson and I stumble as the horse moves a step away, our kiss coming to an abrupt end.

Jackson doesn't let me go as the pair of us catch our breath. His hands stay fisted in my jacket, his face resting against the crook of my neck. He's in my lungs, smelling like the wild, like this place. A sharp breeze and fallen leaves. Crispness and comfort. The smallest hint of sweet caramel.

He's the first to step back, his cheeks flushed as he averts his gaze.

"So," I cough out, tugging my jacket back into place. "There was talk of a picnic?"

Jackson lets out a small breath, nearly a laugh, as he returns to the open saddlebag on Starlight's back. "Are you gonna be a shit about it?"

I feign offense. "Me? Give you trouble? Jackson, I'm offended. Truly."

He shakes his head, lips pressed tightly together. "Come on," he says, heading back up the hill with our food. I follow. Of course I do.

"Hypothetical question," I throw out, stepping over an exposed tree root. "Is riding horseback with a boner uncomfortable?"

Jackson groans. It's the answer I expected.

Ah well. Worth it.