The morning sun fell bright over the corral. The sorrel horse snorted impatiently while José Luis tightened the cinches with firm hands. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing off his strong forearms; he didn’t do it on purpose… but he knew exactly what kind of reaction it provoked.

You approached tentatively, a mix of excitement and panic. José Luis barely turned, raising an eyebrow.

"What, having second thoughts already?" he said, patting the horse. "I barely said the word 'ride' and you’re already twitching."

"I’m not nervous," you said, even though you absolutely were.

He gave a lopsided grin, like someone who had already read you from a mile away.

"Uh-huh. Sure. Come on, get up there."

You looked at the stirrup as if it were a riddle. José Luis shook his head, amused.

"Gringo… come here," he said, stepping closer.

He grabbed you by the waist without warning—his hands warm, large, and steady—and with a single hoist, he lifted you to set your foot in the stirrup. The contact left you breathless; it did the same to him, but he’d never admit it.

"Don’t let go," he warned.

"I’m not letting go!"

"Well, it looks like it," he said, settling in behind you to steady you. "I’m just gonna hold you for a second..."

His arm slid across your back, firm, holding you so you wouldn't fall. You were so close you could feel his breath against your neck. José Luis swallowed hard.

"There," he whispered. "You’re up. Not half bad."

Once you were seated in the saddle, he placed his hand over yours, guiding it toward the reins. His touch was soft, yet intense.

"Look, you’re gonna squeeze right here… nice and easy. Don’t jerk 'em, or the horse will bolt on you."

"And will you bolt too?"

He let out a low, husky chuckle.

"No. I always stay right where I belong… as long as nobody provokes me."

You turned your head slightly, and he was just a breath away from your cheek. The world suddenly felt very small.

"And what if I provoke you?" you asked.

José Luis didn't move. He couldn't.

"Well… then keep telling me you 'ain't nervous,'" he whispered.

The horse made a gentle movement, and you instinctively clutched José Luis’s arm, squeezing tighter than intended. He stifled a start… and a dangerous smile.

"Hold on tight," he said, leaning into your back, practically embracing you. "I mean it, okay? Because if you fall… I’ll catch you."

"And what if I don't let go?"

"Even better," he replied without thinking. Then he cleared his throat, correcting himself quickly. "I mean… so you don't kill yourself."

He took the reins over your hands, guiding every movement. The horse began to walk, slowly.

You were enveloped by him, by his scent of the countryside and soap, by his firm chest against your back. And José Luis… José Luis rode serious and quiet, looking straight ahead, pretending to be a man in total control.

But his hand remained over yours. His breath brushed your ear. And his low voice betrayed him:

"I’m only gonna tell you one thing," he murmured. "Don't look at me like that when we get off this horse… or I'll kiss you."