Stolen - Nhys Glover Page 0,8

leaned over and gave his great hulking shoulder a shove. It was like shoving concrete. He didn’t move an inch.

“There’s nothing wrong with green. Or blue. I miss blue skies. It’s weird the things you find you miss. Things you’d never have considered important. Like the color of the sky. Having a moon. City lights. Loud bars.”

He grimaced in confusion. “Loud bars of what?”

I rolled my eyes and thought of giving him another push. As I’d likely have no more success this time than I did the last, I gave up the idea. Of course, the contact would be nice.

Shaking off the unwanted desire, I focused on something else.

“Don’t worry about it. Any word from your parents?”

Rian nodded, his smile falling away. “Yes. They’ll be here in a few days. To help with the clean-up.”

“And rescue, right? It’s still a search and rescue situation isn’t it?”

The light had fully gone out of Rian’s starburst eyes. “No. The chances of finding anyone else alive under the debris is remote. It’s more about saving what they can and rebuilding. That’ll be a huge task. I’m not sure how the economy will recover from this. Yes, the crops will recover, but without the equipment and manpower to harvest them, it’ll be wasted.”

I nodded. I knew a lot about the pitfalls of farming. I’d grown up on a farm in the Midwest. It was a hard and all-consuming lifestyle, so much hinging on the whims of nature. My family had bred quarter-horses as a side-line. Not one of the big breeders, of course. But enough sales per year to augment our income from our grain crops.

“My family had been farmers for generations,” I told Rian. “Until the day my dad got killed working a raw colt. We bred horses on the side. Every farmer who wants to stay afloat has to diversify in some way. That was our way. Until Mom sold up and moved us to the city to live with my uncle.” I stared up at the purple sky behind the green arbor. “I missed the farm. Until we moved into the crowded, noisy city I wouldn’t have thought there was anything I’d miss about the farm. Except the horses and Dad, of course. But I quickly discovered there were heaps of things I did miss. Little things, like the smell of the baking fields on a hot summer’s day.”

Rian reached over to place a comforting hand on my shoulder. The heat of his touch brought memories of my dream back to mind, burning to my cheeks.

“Did your mother find happiness again?” Rian asked gently, his hand remaining where it was, comforting and strong.

Such an odd question for a male to ask.

“Yes. I guess. She remarried a couple years later. The guy wasn’t as good as dad but he was an okay guy. I doubt I’d think anyone was as good as dad, though. To me, he was every cowboy hero that ever existed. Strong, silent, and dependable. The only real fear I ever felt, as a kid growing up under his stern loving eye, was the fear of disappointing him.”

Rian nodded vigorously. “I feel that way about my father. Though he loves me unconditionally, I still want to be the son he deserves. That’s why the trials are so important. When I have those brands on my skin I’ll be showing him how strong I’ve become. Not physically. The trials aren’t about physical strength. They’re about character. The ability to perform in dire situations, without faltering.”

I studied the lifted chin and look of determination on his feline face. It was an expression my father often had when he was talking about the challenges he’d be facing in the coming year. He had the kind of strength Rian was talking about.

“I’m sure you’ll be all that and more,” I assured him.

Rian’s hand, still resting lightly on my shoulder, slid up my neck until it cupped my cheek. The heat of his skin, the rasp of calluses on his palm, the odd electricity that seemed to always start zinging between us whenever we came into contact, became my world.

When I looked up to meet Rian’s gaze, I didn’t even think about it. I looked into those troubled, awe-filled orbs and allowed myself to give in to the magnetic pull they exerted on me. The moment his lips met mine, so softly, so tentatively, I let out a breath I’d been holding. This was what I needed. This.

Emotions zinged across the connection, want, need,

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