Last Chance Rebel. Maisey Yates

are terrible. They judge you based on how you look, they leave you, broken and bloody in some cases. Horses don’t. Horses are forever.”

      “Oh, come on now, Rebecca. The horse would happily leave you broken and bloody in the right circumstances.”

      “Maybe they’d leave you. Horses are excellent judges of character.”

      “Is that so?”

      “I’ve gotten a lot more scars from people than I’ve gotten from horses.”

      He let that go. Let the barb hit. He had no call to be defensive, or to protest. Instead, he kept his eyes fixed on the trail ahead. He moved easily with the horse’s gait as he picked up the pace to get up the side of a rocky hill that spilled them out of the trees and into a clearing.

      The view in front of them was endless, a patchwork of mountains that wove together, creating an endless tapestry of green. Clouds hung low around them, the mist the only thing that blunted some of the deep color. And beyond that was the gray, endless sea.

      It made him feel small. Made him conscious of all the history that was contained in this land, more than just his own. He dismounted, leaving the horse standing as he walked toward the edge of the mountainside, letting the thick silence close in around him.

      He heard the sound of feet hitting the ground behind him, and turned to see Rebecca moving toward him. “Going to shove me off?” he asked.

      “No. That would be stupid. Then who would end up owning my business? Better the devil you are already dancing with, right?”

      “Better to not be dancing with the devil at all, I expect.”

      She shrugged. “Sure. But that’s the kind of option I’ve never been afforded.”

      “What are your options, then?”

      “Deal with the devil, figure it will cost you your soul. But maybe you’ll get something in return. Otherwise, just keep living in hell without getting anything in return. There’s really no decision to be made if you think about it.”

      “There’s another option.”

      “What’s that?”

      “Don’t care about anything. Doesn’t matter if you’re in hell then, or if you get anything in return.”

      “You don’t care about anything?”

      There was no good answer to that. Not one he liked. He wished he didn’t give a damn. The problem was he gave too many.

      He looked out at the expanse of scenery, avoiding looking at her. At her face that bore the marks of his actions. It was a complicated question. If he didn’t care at all, he supposed all the things he’d left behind wouldn’t feel so heavy.

      “I don’t have very many connections,” he said, because that much was true.

      Just a bunch of people he used to know, people who had been in his life and weren’t anymore. He had never maintained a connection. When he moved on, he moved on. Whether it was from old coworkers, friendships or women.

      He didn’t look back. He never had. He never went back to a place he’d been before either. The country was vast, and if you were willing to work with your hands you could do just about anything. And then, there was the financial stuff on top of it. He supposed he had the longest term relationships with his accountant and his lawyer.

      “What have you been doing all these years?” The question was asked with more hostility than curiosity, and he had a feeling she was more annoyed with herself than with him in that moment. That she wanted to know anything about him at all.

      “Everything. Construction work. Ranch work. Rodeo stuff.”

      She nodded once, then turned away from him sharply, taking a step back toward her horse. Then, she pitched forwards, losing her balance and stumbling. He reached out, grabbing hold of her arm and spinning her as he tugged her back, bringing her up against his chest.

      Soft breasts pressed against the hard wall of his muscles and when he looked down at her face he didn’t see her scars. Instead he saw luminous, dark eyes and full, tempting lips.

      And as quickly as that heat overtook him, shame rushed behind it in an icy chill, cooling the instant, inappropriate attraction.

      He moved her back slowly, making sure she was steady. “I imagine we better get back,” he said.

      She nodded, her expression blank. “Yes,” she said.

      They both got back on their horses, and on the way back, they didn’t make conversation. Instead, Gage spent the entire ride trying to convince himself that the burning sensation in his palm was all in his head. It certainly wasn’t from touching her.

      If he needed to get laid, he could hit up any woman here. Except for this one. She was the last woman he should ever touch. He was here to sever ties, not make new ones. Here to clean up messes, not make things worse.

      The biggest problem with that was, he didn’t exactly have the best track record when it came to fixing things.

      In fact, all he’d ever done in his life was leave things broken.

      But he’d be damned if he broke Rebecca Bear any further.