Chapter 5

The air in the tack room was thick, heavy with the scent of cured leather, hay dust, and the underlying musk of sweat that had been brewing since noon. It was a primal smell, one that clung to the skin and seemed to vibrate in the very marrow of my bones. Outside, the Texas sun was beginning its slow descent, painting the sky in bruised purples and burning oranges, but inside, time had stopped. The only light came from the single overhead bulb swaying gently in the draft, casting long, dancing shadows against the wooden beams and the rows of gleaming bridles hanging on the hooks. I stood by the heavy oak door, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I had followed him here, drawn by the gravity of his presence, by the way his eyes had darkened when he looked at me earlier in the main arena. He didn’t say a word, just gave a slight nod of his head toward this secluded corner of the ranch, and I had walked right in. Now, the door clicked shut behind me, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the small space, sealing us in our own