"Go back inside, Jeannie."
His tuxedo jacket was hung carelessly over a side rail. His starkly white shirt was smudged with dust. A tear at one shoulder told its own tale of his continued fight with the horse.
Jean relaxed when she saw him. He was alive and in one piece. That was all that mattered.
Barbarian was huge. His eyes gleamed with anger and frustration. He snorted and shook his head, his mane splaying out across Wes' hands.
"No," she said stubbornly. "Maybe I want to saddle up a horse and try to kill myself."
He winced. "I'm not trying to kill myself."
Thunder rumbled deeper and closer to them. The wind picked up and blew the scent of coming rain across the yard.
"Then you're not riding out in this storm?"
He turned enough to glare at her then climbed into the saddle. Barbarian pranced under his weight. "Go back to bed, little sister," he told her darkly.
Jean grabbed the stirrup before he could leave. "Take me with you."
"What?"
"Take me with you," she repeated, clutching the stirrup with both hands. "If it's not dangerous, take me with you."
Wind blew her hair across her face. Thunder muttered angrily across the house and stables. Lightning cracked closer, illuminating a group of oaks at the side entrance to the ranch.
Wes looked down into her upturned face at that moment. It was his undoing. Lightning illuminated her eyes and the silk of her hair. There was a smudge of lipstick at one corner of her soft mouth and a tear on her cheek.
He didn't say a word, just held down his hand to her. She grabbed it with both of hers and he pulled her up in front of him on the saddle.
"Hold on," he said, resting his head against hers. "We're going to outrun this storm."
Jean didn't know if she had ever been more terrified. She looked down and tried to see the ground and the horse's feet. It looked like it was twenty feet down.
Barbarian gave a snort and threw up his forelegs, kicking at the air. Then he bolted forward. The powerful muscles of his body carried them effortlessly. Jean knew from walking the ranch that the ground was uneven and the path was narrow. She closed her eyes and prayed that they would be safe.
Jean was tucked closely against him. Wes couldn't hold her there. He needed both hands to keep Barbarian in check. The horse didn't like the extra weight and fought him with the full strength of his body.
The storm was coming up behind them. It howled like a dead spirit, closing in on them. Icy fingers of rain tried to claw at them but the long legged animal pulled them quickly forward. Lightning cracked open the sky above them. The earth shook with the storm's wrath.
Wes had been riding those trails since he was a boy. He didn't need to see the path. He could feel the turns and the narrow ruts. He knew the places that were likely to get slick when it rained and the fork that led to the old barn they used to store hay.
He had been drunk. He'd emptied an entire bottle of whiskey before he'd realized that something was wrong with the saddle. He'd gone back for a new one. Then Jeannie had looked up at him during that lightning strike.
If he hadn't had too much to drink, he wouldn't have brought her with him. He would have left her there. He would have insisted that she go back into the house. Hell, he would have tied her to the bed, if necessary. The thought brought a series of uncomfortable images to his mind.
He felt a rush of cold air on the back on his neck. He knew it preceded the rain by a few minutes. The storm had almost caught up with them.
Lightning flowed across the sky in a single, wide arc. The old barn was bathed in light, stark relief against the black sky.
"Almost there," he growled into her ear.
He was angry. He'd been good and drunk. He'd left his own party so that he wouldn't have to face his feelings for Jeannie. Then she'd come out and changed it all with her soft hands and her soft eyes. Why hadn't she stayed inside? Or gone home with Ryan?
The thought made him angrier. Lightning cracked like a whip above their heads.
"Where are we going?" Jean asked, hardly daring to look past his shoulder.
"The old barn," he replied an instant before the wind whipped his words away.
Jean held him tightly. The horse's hooves were as loud as thunder in her ear. It felt like they were riding forever. She didn't care. She trusted Wes. She wanted to be with him.
Lightning struck a tree limb behind them and the tree went up in flame. The cold rain that washed down behind it quenched it immediately. This hiss of the dying fire and the acrid smell of the smoke hit them. Barbarian reared back, terrified. It took all of Wes' strength and skill to stay in the saddle.
Jean cringed and held on tightly.
Wes swore and urged the horse forward. What had he been thinking, bringing her with him? He'd never been so drunk that he couldn't make decisions without endangering someone's life. Why had he brought her when he knew he was going to be riding like a damn lunatic? The answer was as frightening as the storm. He loved her. He wanted her with him. He wanted to take the chances.
He wasn't sure when it had happened to him. It might have been that Christmas three years ago. It might have been happening from the moment he'd seen her.
She'd found a place in his heart. The thought of losing her to someone else was tearing him apart. He wanted to appreciate her position. He agreed with Jenelle in principal. But seeing those other men with her was driving him insane. He just wanted to take her and run away. He was running away with her.
The staid, responsible Wes Kirby. A man who knew his duty. A man who would never run away from a problem. He was running as far and as fast as he could.
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