“Why are you stopping?” I ask Raylan.

“There’s a stream up here,” he says. “The horses can have a drink.”

He leads us over to a thicket of trees. Sure enough, I can hear water running through. The trees grow in a double line on either side of a small river. It’s like an oasis in the grass.

The day is heating up, the sun coming more directly overhead. I’m hot from the ride, as are the horses.

Raylan gets down from Brutus’s back and helps me dismount. He takes off the horses’ saddles and rubs them down. They roll around briefly on the grass, which alarms me for a moment as Brutus flops over abruptly, then rolls with his legs in the air like a dog would do. I laugh, amused to see such a massive animal behaving that way.

Penny does the same as soon as the saddle is off. It makes me happy to see them enjoying themselves, after they carried us all this way and gave me an experience like I’ve never had before.

Once they’ve rolled around, they drink from the stream, and then start cropping the soft grass, pulling up mouthfuls.

“Can they eat that?” I ask Raylan.

“Of course,” he says.

“I don’t know anything about horses,” I admit. “Or any animals, really.”

“You rode so well,” Raylan says. “I can’t believe you’ve never done it before.”

“I think it’s easier on Penny.”

“It is,” Raylan admits. “We’ve had a lot of good horses. But none as intuitive as her.”

Raylan is sweating, too. I can see the clear sweat running down his neck into the open collar of his shirt. I can smell his scent, warm like the grass, strong like the horses.

“Are you hot?” he asks me.

“Yes,” I admit.

“The water’s clean,” he says, unbuttoning his shirt. He pulls it open and strips it off, so he’s standing there bare-chested in just his jeans.

I can’t help staring. I’ve seen Raylan shirtless several times now, but this is the best he’s ever looked—his muscles swollen from riding, his skin bright with sunshine and sweat, his waist looking impossibly tight compared to his broad shoulders and his worn blue jeans.

Raylan isn’t as massive as Dante, but he’s aesthetic in a completely different way. If Dante is a bull, then Raylan is a stallion. He looks fast as well as strong. Lean, and capable.

He’s exotic to me like no man I’ve met before. I’ve known gangsters and businessmen and high rollers of all kinds. But I’ve never known a man with Raylan’s charm and authenticity. I’ve never known a man who’s good at so many things. Dean was the best thoracic surgeon in the city, but he couldn’t fix his kitchen sink to save his life. I think you could put any tool in the world into Raylan’s hands and he’d figure it out.

Maybe I’m losing it, after all the things I’ve been through the past few weeks. But I find myself staring at him in awe. Thinking I’ve never seen a more attractive man.