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Standing in front of me, Colton wraps my left hand around the coil and puts the looped end in my right hand. The lasso is smooth and sturdy. His hands are worn and gentle.
He peers down at me and I feel my face warm when his gaze flickers over my mouth. He clears his throat and steps back. “Now, with your right hand, just practice spinning the loop. Make sure you hold on to the loop and the lead rope at the same time.”
I rotate my wrist and the rope spins in lazy circles beside me.
“Good, now let’s make the loop a bit bigger.” He helps adjust the rope and I practice swinging it again.
Colton nods his approval with a swift dip of his chin. The brim of his Stetson casts a shadow over his face, which gives his jaw a more pronounced and swoon-worthy line. “Next, let’s try a toss. You want to release the loop but keep hold of the lead rope.”
“Like this?” I spin the loop three times and then release it. Instead of sailing through the air like Colton’s toss, it plops down on the ground beside me.
Colton shakes his head. “Not exactly.” He picks up the rope and rewinds it. “Hold this part, but release this part,” he says, pointing.
My second attempt is as much a dud as the first.
“It just takes a little practice.” He shoves his hands in his front pockets and gives an encouraging smile. “You’ll get it.”
My third, fourth, and fifth attempts are no better.
“I don’t think I’ll be roping steers anytime soon,” I say, my shoulders sinking with defeat.
“Maybe not, but we’ll have you roping sawhorses before you know it. Here,” he says, closing the distance between us. “We’ll do it together so you can get a feel for it.”
Colton’s left hand is rough and warm. The calluses on his palm drag over my skin, leaving a delicious trail as he wraps his hand around mine.
“Don’t worry about the coil right now.” His breath rushes over my cheek.
What coil?
His right hand brushes mine. “You want to hold the loop like this.”
What loop?
Colton gently eases my fingers into the correct position and then cradles my hand with a soft squeeze.
The back of my knees tingle at his touch. Breathe, I remind myself, which I regret a moment later when my nostrils are assailed with his familiar leather-and-Ivory-soap scent. If I was an android, I would have short-circuited by now, but instead, I do the human equivalent: my nerve endings send out tiny, invisible sparks.
It’s not that I intentionally lean back into him for some much-needed support (thanks, weak knees), but somehow we end up nestled together, his big spoon to my smaller one. His soft breath tickles the hair on the nape of my neck as he says, “Swing the loop like this and then let it fly while turning your palm.” He guides me through the motions. “Now this time, loosen your grip on the coil and let the loop go when I get to three.”
My mouth is parched but I manage to force out a weak, “Okay.”
“One,” he counts, rotating our hands to make the rope swing. “Two.” He leans forward, the warmth of his chest radiating through the layers of clothing that separate us. My blood pounds through my veins. Colton twists our hands. “Three.” The lasso flies horizontally through the air and lands with a solid thump on the sawhorse.
Success sends a surge of excitement through me. “We did it!” I exclaim, twisting around to find Colton’s face mere millimeters from mine.
His nod of agreement brings his face even closer. The brim of his hat brushes the top of my head. Our eyes meet beneath its shadow and then his darkened gaze dips to my lips. His hands find my waist.
Kiss me already, my brain screams. My eyes flutter shut.
His breath is soft as a feather on my cheek. “Riley,” he whispers. “Can I—”
The thunderous beat of hooves drown out the rest of Colton’s question. Startled, I look over to see a uniformed rider bearing down on us atop a galloping horse, a thick cloud of dust billowing behind them.
CHAPTER 22
Colton
JAKE HARDING.
