Stella took her time petting and loving on the other three, waiting for him to peek his head out to see what the fuss was about.
When his black snout appeared at the edge of his stall, she took her first step. Softly, so as not to startle him with creaking wooden floorboards. Another step and she could feel his steady breathing as if it were her own. Two more gentle steps and she was beside his stall. A loud huff told her that he knew she was there. He wasn’t thrilled about it, but it sounded like acceptance, so she turned to face him.
Making eye contact had to happen at just the right moment. If she tried too soon, he’d retreat and that would be it for the night. If she waited too long, he’d get impatient, and ignore her completely.
Her heart pounded in her ears as she turned slowly, praying silently that she’d got it right, read him correctly. Glancing over to him, she saw him eyeing her from under thick dark lashes. He exhaled slowly, seemingly thankful that she hadn’t screwed it up this time.
“Hey there, sweet boy,” she said softly. “Want a snack?”
She opened her palm to reveal the apple slices she’d brought. Not breaking eye contact, Shadowdancer angled his head toward her hand and gingerly took the slices. Her heart ached to reach out to him, to tell him that despite whatever, or whomever, had hurt him in his past—he could trust her. But there was no need to rush into things. He clearly needed her to respect his need for space. So she would.
“You know, I had a horse like you once,” she practically whispered as he chewed loudly. “Angel’s Breath.”
The memories of her childhood, of spending every waking second possible in the barn on her parents’ ranch with her horse, came flooding back.
The house she’d grown up in was always cold. Sterile. Her mother was harsh, demanding, and had never been particularly loving or affectionate that Stella Jo could remember. It wasn’t like she’d been abusive or anything. Just driven about Stella Jo’s riding and winning and priming her to take over her family’s ranch one day. Set in old-fashioned ways that often felt like being dressed up like a doll and played with only to be cast aside.
The ranch where her parents lived had been in her mother’s family since the early 1900s and Candace was the first female to take ownership. But since they’d never had a son, she wouldn’t be the last. Her father was avoidant. A man of few words, Hugh Chandler hardly looked at her. A few nods and grunts at the dinner table and messages passed on from her mother were about all he’d ever offered.
The barn had been the complete opposite. It was warm, welcoming, and full of life. Angel’s Breath was her best friend. The one she’d turned to when her parents had nothing to give. No interest in listening to her stories about her day or her dreams. She’d always felt more communicative with horses than with people. People saw with their eyes. Horses saw with their souls.
I am seriously fucked up. The thought flickered across her mind and she shook her head.
A loud breath caused her to jump as Shadowdancer retreated.
“Aw. I’m sorry, buddy. I got lost in my own head for a minute.”
A high-pitched whining sound erupted from him as he reared back. Stella Jo took a step back as well, unsure as to what had upset him. Surely he wasn’t this spooked because she’d shaken her head.
“I think it’s me he’s pissed at,” a deep male voice informed her.
This time, she was the one who nearly reared back as she whirled around. “What are you doing down here?”
“Taking a walk. It’s allowed. Just have to sign out first.”
Van Ransom stood there watching her unapologetically. She was strangely irritated with his unexpected presence. He’d pretty much undone the last twenty minutes of carefully calculated interaction with Shadowdancer, and he’d nearly caused her to pee herself.
“Okay. Well I’m pretty sure there are eighty acres or so of land that belong to this place. Feel free to keep on walking.”
“Ouch. If I had feelings, you would’ve hurt them.” He placed a hand over his heart. Her eyes landed on a small black cross inked just under his thumb. That was odd. He didn’t seem like the religious cross-bearing type. She mentally scolded herself for making the kind of snap judgment her mother would have.
“You don’t have feelings?” Keeping her tone light, she made her way over to the storage stall and began tidying it up in order to relocate her attention elsewhere.
“Nah. Waste of time and energy if you ask me.”
Had she asked him? She wasn’t sure. Being around him sent her thoughts scattering. After stacking the last of the folded riding blankets atop a stack in the corner, she stepped out of the stall.
“If you say so.”
“What about you, beautiful? You have feelings? For something other than horses, I mean.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “My feelings are none of your business, Mr. Ransom.”
He took a step closer and her eyes drank in his broad masculine build. A dark hooded sweatshirt hid his muscles from her, but his jeans were tight enough that she could see powerful thighs straining against the denim. For a brief moment, she wondered what they would feel like against her thighs.
“Bet I could make you feel some things, cowgirl,” he said as if he could read her mind.
She stifled a shiver, but he hadn’t missed it.
“Cold? Here,” he said before she could answer, making quick work of unzipping his sweatshirt and holding it out for her to step into.
She eyed him for several seconds, knowing it would get awkward if she didn’t give in and accept his attempt at chivalry.
“Thanks. Um, it was warmer when I first came out.” She slid her arms through his too long sleeves.
His breath was warm on her neck as he reached around and zipped it for her. “Temperature drops a good bit when the sun goes down.”
“Yeah,” she breathed, unable to come up with a more intelligent response.
“There. You good?”
She turned to face him, expecting him to back up. But he didn’t. Instead he placed his large hands on her arms and rubbed. The temperature had dropped. She could tell by the chill bumps rising on her bare legs. But looking into those hooded eyes of his while his hands were on her had Stella feeling anything but cold. The exact opposite of cold, actually.
“I’m good,” she said softly, forcing herself to back out of his embrace. “I should probably get on back to my—”
“Hey, I really didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I was just walking by and saw you out here alone and…” He cut himself off with a shrug. “Anyways, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Guess we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other down here.”
“We will?” Stella felt her eyes widen. She’d been doing everything in her power to steer clear of him all week. And they’d still crossed paths a few times—mostly in the Atrium, and now here. Why in the world would she suddenly be seeing even more of him?
“Dr. McLendon, my, uh, whatever she is… She and I talked about my having too much free time on my hands. It makes me kind of nuts not to be doing something. Not exactly like I can play music or get a job or anything. So I’m going to be helping out. Here.”
Oh no. This was not good. Panic began to churn in her stomach. This was her sanctuary. The place she came to relax, to let go of the tension. The last thing she needed in her safe haven was this tatted-up sex-on-a-stick man all in her space. And they’d be alone. Probably a lot. At night.