Walking was my solace then, and though at first I was a bit fearful of being alone, I got over my qualms quickly, especially in a place like this. It gave me time to think, and I ended up strolling miles and miles each day…and that’s how I found my secret spring.

I doubt that it’s truly a secret, but I’ve never seen anyone else there. I stop in the vet’s office in the stable and wash up, and—

“Hi, Carly.”

I don’t have to turn around. I’d know that deep voice anywhere. My heart skips a beat and I’m instantly hot all over. I’m not sure if it’s from desire or embarrassment over the night before.

I turn off the faucet. “Austin.”

Why is his name so breathy?

I turn, ready to apologize. Or run. Or jump him. I’m not sure which. Instead of any of those, I let out a laugh.

He’s dressed in tattered jeans, a plain white T-shirt—although it’s not all that white any longer—and brown boots. Army boots maybe? They’re not cowboy boots and they’re filthy. His face is shiny with sweat and his gorgeous dark hair is plastered to his temples. He sports a purplish bruise on his sculpted jawline where Chance clocked him last night.

“What’s so funny?” He glances down at himself.

“You look…worn.”

He lifts his head and frowns. “Chance had me up at six. Miles and I have been mending fences all morning.”

“Don’t you have people to do that?”

“Hell, yeah, we have people to do that. Lots of ranch hands. But…” He shakes his head. “It’s a long and boring story about how I’m now a cowboy-in-training, and I’d much rather talk about you. Are you all right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

My question is ridiculous, of course. I left the bar last night without a word to him after yelling at the entire crowd. All this after he had his hand in my panties, his fingers working me like an expert and getting me to the brink.

He thinks I’m a mess.

In many ways, I am. Especially when it comes to men. Specifically him.

But these are my issues and I can’t let him feel guilty. He didn’t do anything wrong. Neither of us did, even though I’m still slightly mortified.

“I just…” He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans and looks down. “I’m sorry, Carly.”

My stomach drops, right along with all hope and expectation of things with Austin being different. Right. Here it comes. “For what, exactly?”

He lifts his gaze, but not his head, so his dark eyes meet mine through his ridiculously long man-lashes. “I didn’t know. If I’d known, I never would have—”

I want to stomp my foot in frustration, like a toddler. Instead, I set my hands on my hips. “Which is exactly why I didn’t want you to know, Austin. I’m not ashamed of what we did, and you shouldn’t be either.”

I’m embarrassed that Chance caught us and that everyone in the bar knew what we’d been up to, but I’m not at all ashamed of what we did together.