Free Wild about Weston (The English Brothers Book 5) by Katy Regnery

that would suit her. It was so supple and pretty, she wondered if it had ever been used. “Someone takes really good care of them.”
    “Why do I get the feeling you’re one-hundred percent at home in a tack room?”
    “Because I am,” she admitted. “Though not one this fancy. Or big. Or clean.” She giggled softly, turning around to look at him.
    “You like horses?” he asked, his face younger and more innocent in the soft light of the tack room. He’d chosen this place to cheer her up, and she realized that she hadn’t seen him so happy and relaxed since she met him. He was totally at home here in the stable, and she paused in her thoughts just for a moment to appreciate they had that in common.
    “I love them. We have four back at home.”
    “Where’s that?”
    “Hopeview, Ohio.”
    “You grew up on a farm,” he said softly. A statement. A realization.
    She grinned. “I did. A little farm in the middle of Ohio.”
    “Dairy?”
    “No. Corn, wheat, soybeans, and cotton.”
    “I wonder what that was like,” he said, taking a step closer to her.
    “Honestly?”
    “Yeah, honestly.”
    “Loving. Warm. Hard work. Early mornings. Early nights.” She shrugged, another wave of homesickness threatening her lighter mood. “Home.”
    “And you miss it,” he said, coming to stand beside her.
    Molly’s body was still angled toward the saddles, but now she shifted slightly and faced Weston. “Not usually. I really do love Philadelphia. I love my work. But…”
    “You gave up a lot to move here, right?”
    “More than I knew at the time,” she whispered, the meaning behind his words not lost on her. “I’m not homesick, though. I’m really not. But I think, when bad things happen, sometimes you just want to go home.”
    ***
    Weston’s heart swelled as he stared at sad eyes in her pretty face. He barely knew her, and yet he couldn’t stand for her to look sad when he knew the bright sunshine of her smile. He opened his arms to her, holding his breath as she looked at him before stepping forward into his embrace. Once she was tucked safely against his body, he exhaled, resting his chin on top of her head.
    “Don’t,” he whispered. “Don’t go home. Not yet.”
    “Are you talking about tonight?” she murmured, her breath warm and soft against his throat.
    “I don’t know. Don’t go home to Ohio. Don’t go home to…wherever home is here. Don’t go anywhere,” he beseeched her softly. “Just stay here with me for a little while.”
    She sighed, and he felt the tension leave her body. He backed them up until he hit the counter behind him. He leaned back on it, and she leaned into him.
    “Can I ask you something?” she said after a few peaceful minutes.
    “Sure.”
    Apparently they were going to have a conversation with his arms around her and her body nestled snugly into his. Fine with Weston. As long as he got to hold her, he’d talk as long as she wanted to.
    “Why do you hate being the youngest?”
    He took a deep breath and his chest swelled into her breasts. Even with their coats between them, it distracted him terribly. “I don’t know.”
    “Yeah, you do,” she said, encircling his waist with her arms.
    She was hugging him. For whatever unknown reason, it filled him with tenderness that she was holding onto him too. It was as though she sensed the deeply fraught nature of her question and wanted to offer him comfort. It made him want to answer her truthfully.
    “It’s like…well, like this…think of the English brothers as a field. A blank field. Brown earth. No plantings.”
    “Fallow.”
    He chuckled lightly. “Fallow, says the farmer’s daughter. Yes. Fallow.”
    “And…” she prompted.
    His hands were flat on her lower back, but his fingers moved now, idly, gently, against the rough canvas of the jacket she wore, frustrated by the barrier.
    “And Barrett goes first into the field, making nice, sharp, neat, even rows. And then Fitz joins him. His rows are even