The weekend lesson exceeded every expectation I harbored.
My three babies stood in the paddock with Bonnie—the mare I'd nursed from near death, now serving as their gentle teacher. But it was Kameron who stole my breath.
Patient, careful, speaking to my children like they were precious.
His voice stayed calm. His instructions came clear. His corrections landed kind.
"Easy now, little man." Kameron guided Levi's hand toward the mare's muzzle. "Palm flat, fingers together. Just like we practiced. She won't hurt you. Let her come to you."
I watched the muscles in Kameron's back flex as he crouched, the way his jeans pulled tight across his thighs.
God, what was wrong with me?
I was supposed to be watching my children, not ogling their possible father like a hormone-crazed teenager.
Levi held his breath as Bonnie's velvety nose touched his palm. When she took the carrot my son's face split into the widest grin I had seen in months.
"She took it, Mama!" He bounced on his heels. "Did you see? She took it right from my hand!"
"I saw, baby. You did perfect."
But my eyes stayed on Kameron—the gentle way he steadied Levi, how his thumb rubbed soothing circles on my son's back. This tender version of him was wreaking havoc on my carefully constructed defenses.
Lily had already claimed Bonnie's ear as her personal confessional. She leaned close, whispering secrets only she and the mare would ever share. Her little hands stroked the horse with the same gentle touch Kameron had shown her.
"Whatcha telling her, princess?" Kameron crouched beside my daughter.
"That's between us girls." Lily's stubborn chin lifted—so like mine. Or was it like his? "Boys don't get to know everything."
Kameron laughed, warm and genuine. "Fair enough, little lady. Fair enough."
Stop it, I commanded myself. Stop noticing how good he is with them. Stop wanting things you can't have.
Luke hung back at the fence, knuckles white around the rail. My anxious boy, always calculating danger—so much like Colt in that way.
The thought made my stomach flip.
"Hey, buddy." Kameron approached slowly, and I noticed how he made himself smaller, less threatening. "You don't have to touch her today. Sometimes watching is enough."
"I want to." Luke's voice trembled. "I'm just scared she'll move fast and knock me down."
"Bonnie's been around a long time. She knows how to be gentle with kids." Kameron extended his hand. "How about I stay right beside you? You can hold onto me if she startles you."
Luke considered for a long moment. Then his small hand slipped into Kameron's larger one, and they walked together toward the waiting mare.
I gripped the fence rail so hard my knuckles ached.
Bonnie stood perfectly still as Luke approached and Kameron positioned my son at her shoulder, one hand resting steady on his back.
"Right here." Kameron guided Luke's free hand toward the mare's neck. "Nice and slow. Let her feel you before you feel her."
Luke's fingers made contact. Bonnie turned her massive head and gently nuzzled his shoulder—a horse hug that transformed my son's face from terror to wonder.
"She likes me," he whispered.
"'Course she does." Kameron's voice went rough with emotion. "What's not to like?"
Something cracked open in my chest. Dangerous and tender.
I watched this man I thought I understood reveal depths I never suspected existed beneath that charming surface.
The rodeo champion who had broken hearts across three states was teaching my children patience and gentleness like he had been born to it.
Hours later, with triplets and ranch sleeping, I wandered the property unable to settle. My skin felt too tight, my body humming with restless energy.
The memory of Kameron with my children—our children?—kept replaying in my mind.
I found him in the barn, cleaning tack by lantern light. The golden glow painted him in warm tones, shadows defining the muscles in his forearms as he worked, highlighting the concentration on his face.
He'd stripped down to a white undershirt that clung to his torso, revealing every line of muscle underneath. A light sheen of sweat made his skin glow in the lamplight.
"Thank you." The words came out before I could stop them. "For today. For everything you did with them."
He looked up, those ice-blue eyes catching me like a trap.
"You didn't have to do that today, but still…" My voice came out huskier than intended, betraying the effect he was having on me.
"Do what?"
"Be so... perfect with them."
"They're easy to be perfect with." He set down the bridle, his movements slow, deliberate. "Good kids. Brave kids. They get that from their mama."
The compliment hit unexpectedly hard, sending warmth flooding through me.
I moved closer, drawn by invisible threads, by the scent of leather and soap and male sweat that shouldn't be attractive but was.
"Luke hasn't smiled like that in weeks." My voice caught on something I couldn't name. "You gave him that."
"I just introduced him to a horse. He did the brave part himself."
I stepped closer. The gratitude on my lips twisted into something hungrier as it left my mouth. "You're different with them. Different than I expected."
"Different how?" He set down the saddle he had been working on.
"Softer. More careful." I couldn't look away from his hands. His mouth. The way his shirt stretched across his shoulders. "I thought you'd be reckless. Impatient. Instead you were..."
"What?"
"Good. You were good with them."
His knowing smile made my stomach flip. Kameron stood slowly, unfolding his tall frame, and suddenly the barn felt impossibly small.
"I'll take the truck." The words tumbled out, desperate for something safe to say before I did something stupid like climb him like a tree. "Dad needs his vehicle back, and I can't keep being stubborn when my kids need reliable transportation."
"Knew you'd come around.” Something shifted in his expression—a darkening that made my pulse jump. “Come on, let me show you all the features."
We walked through the cooling night, but I was hyperaware of every accidental brush of our hands, every time his body heat whispered against mine as we walked past darkened buildings toward the equipment shed.
The truck waited under moonlight, blue paint turned silver in the pale glow. Kameron opened the driver's door and started explaining features, controls, the way the seat adjusted forward for shorter legs.
I barely registered a word.
I was watching his hands move across the dashboard—those same hands that had been so gentle with my children, that had once made me scream with pleasure.
Watching his mouth form words I couldn't process, mesmerized by the memory of what that mouth could do.
Kameron caught me staring.
"You're not listening to a damn thing I'm saying, are you?" His voice had turned knowing, amused.
"No." The honesty surprised us both.
"What are you thinking about instead?" The words turned teasing, then deliberate.
He moved closer, caging me between his body and the truck. The metal was cool against my back, but his heat from the front made me dizzy.
"Nothing appropriate."
"Tell me anyway." His voice had gone rough. Low and dangerous in a way that made my pulse jump.
His fingers found my waist. The touch burned through my shirt like a brand, making my breath caught in my throat.
"Kameron." His name came out breathless.
Warning and invitation tangled together in my voice.
"I've been patient, firecracker." He drew me against him, my back pressing to the cool hood of the truck. The metal was smooth beneath my palms as I braced myself. "I've given you space and time and every chance to push me away."
"I know."
"Are you pushing me away now?"
His body blocked out the stars. I could feel the heat of him everywhere our bodies touched.
"No." The word escaped before I could call it back. "I'm not."
I could see the effort it took not to touch me, the muscles in his arms trembling with restraint. "Don't look at me like that unless you mean it."
"Like what?"
"Like you want me to kiss you against this truck." His voice turned rough, desperate. "Like you want me to finish what we started six years ago. Like you've been thinking about it as much as I have."
"What if I have been?"
"Say it then." His body pressed closer, and I could feel how hard he was against my stomach. "Tell me what you want."
"I don't want space anymore." The words rushed out. "I don't want distance. I want—"
"What?" His mouth hovered inches from mine, his breath ghosting across my lips. "Tell me, firecracker."
"You." The admission broke free. "God help me, I want you."