“I’m going,” she said. “Come along for crying out loud.”
Hiding the sting from Bonnie’s words, she shrugged tightly. “Sorry, it’s fine. Go ahead.”
“It’s an easy ride,” Kim added. “We’d love to have you come, too. Honest.”
“Thanks,” Rio said. “But I’d like to clean up here. Maybe a rain check?”
“Sure.”
When the girls were out the door, Rio scowled and picked up the wine bottle. She was just being stubborn now, and probably stupid, but she poured another half glass. The first gulp warmed going down but it didn’t curb the bite of Bonnie’s words. They’d just lost everything; why couldn’t she see that all Rio wanted in the world was to protect what was left—namely
her
? To her shock—again—David placed his hand over hers, cupping the wineglass and her fingers in his large, warm grasp.
“Do you always drink when you’re angry?”
“Never!”
“Don’t start now.”
“Okay, wait just a frickin’ minute. You have nothing to say about it. You are not my—”
“I feel responsible for
you
while you’re here.”
The words shot straight into the wound Bonnie had left. Rio sucked in a breath.
“That’s low, twisting my words to suit your argument. I’ve asked you to stay out of our business.”
“I don’t want to get in your business,” he said softly. “I am an impartial observer.”
“David—”
“Rio.”
“Oh what?” She huffed out a breath at his quiet insistence.
“Come riding with us. Why deny yourself just to prove you had a point?”
She hated that he could get into her head so easily. For someone who loved to back down from conflict, he didn’t seem to need avoiding conflict with her. Maybe the wine, maybe plain exhaustion, made her hold back another stubborn refusal.
“Are you going?”
“I’ll go if you go.”
She snorted. “How ridiculous is that?”
“Maybe I want to poke a bit of fun at your riding.”
“Excuse me?” Her heart hammered in disbelief.
“Rio, c’mon,” he chided. “Stop taking everything so seriously. I would never tease a new rider. Your sister was right. You should have more fun.”
There was not much she could say to get out of the activity after that. He helped her put the food away, marveling that they still had the casserole and an entire apple crisp for another dinner.
“Leave the dishes,” he admonished. “You cooked. Bonnie and I can clean up later.”
“That’s very liberated,” she said.
“No, not at all.” His eyes shone with the fun she was growing to recognize. “I have an older sister who was liberated with a capital “L” I’m quite afraid of girls actually.”
“I don’t believe you. What’s her name?”
“Penelope.”
“Penelope Pitts-Matherson?”
“Penny. She was Peepee and nothing for it. A tragedy. And I heard rumors that I was originally to be Phillip. Nickname for that over there is often Pip. Pip Pitts-Matherson. Nice.”
Once again he’d dispelled the tension. Rio giggled as she left the house. The afternoon had heated things up, and even though it was approaching six o’clock, the temperature had to have been in the eighties. Rio breathed deeply, pulling in the scents so different from what she’d been creating in the kitchen. Grass, animals, and hay mulled together in the warm August air—an outdoor feast for the nose.
“I’m not really dressed for riding,” she said, as they neared the barn. She could hear voices from inside, laughing, calling.
“We’ll get you a helmet,” David replied. “And I’ll bet Jill has a pair of heeled boots to lend you. She’s brilliant at having loads of equipment around for emergencies. Otherwise? Your jeans are . . . perfect.”
The way he hesitated over “perfect,” with emphasis not only from his accent but his eyes, heated the wine in her bloodstream. Her head swam a little with the thought that he might mean it as a compliment. Heck, she decided, she might as well make it perfect as long as she was going to fantasize.
“Y
OU CAME!
” B
ONNIE
threw her arms around Rio’s neck as if there’d never been a single cross word. “And David, too.”
Rio hugged her back, but didn’t get out a reply before Bonnie was off to join a gaggle of girls, where she chattered as if she’d known them for months instead of minutes. Typical Bonnie.
There were five teenagers along with Jill, Chase, and David. And herself, as good as a sixth child, she thought, nervous as she stood at the fringes watching the activity. How did Bonnie already look like she knew what she was doing?
“Would you like to see your horse?”
David materialized beside her, and she breathed a sigh of relief. He held out a pair of pull-on, ankle-high boots.
“Okay.”
“And try these. They’re Jill’s extra paddock boots. If they don’t fit, well, fake it for now.”
A moment later she’d doffed her running shoes and tugged on the boots. They were half a size too large, but they’d work.
“They feel fine,” she said. “Thank you.”
“Sure. C’mon.”
He led her to a stall and slid the door, which whispered open on sibilant rollers. Jill could feel her eyes widen at the gleaming horse in front of her. “Holy cow,” she murmured.
“More of a holy horse, wouldn’t you say?” he teased back. “And, actually, he is as close to heavenly as I’ve got. This is Tully. Short for Tullamore Dew. Like the good Irish whiskey.”
“Hello, Tully.” Rio forgot her anxiousness even though the stunning animal towered over her. She touched his muzzle and then stroked his neck and sides. He shone like golden brown liquid.
“He’s Irish Draught—an old friend now at nineteen. He’s big, and he’s fast if you want him to be but not if you don’t. We’ve had him do pretty much every job on the place, so he’s well trained. You’ll have a great ride with him, I promise.”
“He’s beautiful.” Rio turned back to the horse. “You’re beautiful, aren’t you?” Tully snorted and lipped her fingers. Rio laughed, enchanted, all shreds of anger, fear, sadness, gone. For the moment she had a horse. She turned back to David. “Thank you.”
“I’m glad you’re coming with us.”
It took solid strategic planning to get nine horses tacked up, nine people mounted, and three dogs underway. Jill and Chase’s little black-and-white dog, Angel, the sweetest, smartest dog Rio had ever met, led the pack. Kim and Dawson had brought their handsome golden retriever, Roscoe. And Fred, a Corgi mix that belonged to David’s only employee, Andy, who lived in a small apartment above the barn, trotted right along on stumpy legs that didn’t look as if they’d carry him across the farm much less for an two-hour trail ride. David assured her that, short legs or not, Fred would outlast them all.
Tully’s big-strided, rocking walk was only one of the hundred sensations rushing at her like a tsunami when Rio rode out of the stable yard and into the pasture at the rear of the group with David. Sitting astride the big gelding seemed as natural as she remembered from her only two riding excursions ten years before. She relaxed into the comfortable Western saddle and let her hips roll and her spine undulate with the motion.
Her stomach effervesced with delight, the hot evening breeze reached through the vent holes in the helmet David had found for her, the collective crunch and stomp of thirty-six hooves muffled the chatter from the kids ahead of her.
Out of habit she watched Bonnie closely for the first fifteen minutes. Her sister rode in an English saddle, with no horn, no heavy stirrups, and no deep, padded seat. She seemed secure enough, and Rio marveled. The little socialite was taking to riding like she took to everything else she put her brain to—effortlessly.
“What do you think?” David had kept mostly silent as the group left his property. Now they headed through an open field two abreast on a grass track, and he drew beside her on the gray gelding he rode—a tall, gorgeous thoroughbred named Going to Bedlam he fondly called Gomer. “Are you glad I made you come?”
She allowed her mood to shine through a smile. “Yes. I didn’t expect to get to do something like this.”
“You can’t avoid horses around this place. We’re all nutters. We play with them, work with them, talk about them. You’ll find out fairly quickly if you’re a deep-down horse fanatic.”
“What’s not to be fanatic about? Do you all know how lucky you are?”
A fan of smile creases appeared beside each eye. “Nobody takes this for granted. You’ll see the hard work that goes into an evening like this.”
“I didn’t mean to imply I thought it wasn’t work . . .”
But, truthfully, she had. Deep inside, beneath the thrill of this experience, lurked jealousy. A touch of envy because these people had been born into circumstances where work could pay for fun like this instead of where work couldn’t quite pay all the bills.
She shoved the ungracious thought aside. Before the fire she hadn’t had a bad life. It hadn’t been easy, but there had been good nights with Bonnie and Paul and friends. When they’d prided themselves for making it. On their own.
“I’ve been watching you. You’re a natural on that horse.”
“Me?” At that silly compliment, her mood soared. “I’m not doing a dang thing. Tully’s doing all the work. Bonnie—she’s the one. Not even using a big, safe cowboy saddle.”
“Ah.” He lowered his voice. “But here’s where my eye is more practiced. Bonnie’s doing great, and she’ll learn to be a good rider, but if you watch closely you’ll see the stiffness in her shoulders and how she’s leaning a little forward and clutching on the reins for balance. That’s all perfectly normal new rider stuff.”
“I guess.” Rio did see.
“You can’t see yourself, of course, but feel how loose your lower back is? How easily your knees can move out from the saddle?”
She flapped her knees like wings. David grinned. “You aren’t asking him to do much of anything yet, but you’re not getting in his way either. You’re a born cowgirl.”
“Easy in a big, safe saddle.”
“No, that’s not it. You’re not afraid. You’re listening to the horse.”
She let the compliment settle around her, accepting it for what it was—something she’d never before experienced.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To the far end of the state park. Butte Glen is just a mile from town. There’s a secluded spot not really meant for camping, but we know the rangers and have unwritten permission to be there. The public isn’t allowed, but local hikers and riders can go if they know about it. It’s a nice spot a little over an hour away. I think they brought drinks and snacks.”
“Ugh.” Rio wrinkled her nose. “I’ve done nothing but eat all day.”
“Too right.”
The ride to the secret spot passed in a delightful haze. The teens, all of them Jill’s students except for Dawson, chattered like squirrels. Rio did as David directed and let herself enjoy the serene ride through fields and woods. Once again the lack of concrete and overhead electricity struck her as almost magical and solidified the knowledge that moving from the city permanently one day was the right dream for her. It would take longer now, but somehow, at this moment, she still believed it could happen.
They dismounted in a clearing with trees scattered through the space to make tethering spots for the horses. David showed her how to tie a quick-release knot with the halter rope Tully wore beneath his bridle. The number of straps, ropes, reins, and buckles had Rio’s head spinning, but David promised she’d get it straight before she knew it.
“How do the legs feel? The first time you spend an hour on a horse it doesn’t matter if you’re an athlete or a couch potato, your muscles are gonna yell at you.”
She moved away from Tully’s side and laughed. Nothing hurt, but her legs performed as if they’d been tied around a barrel for a day. “I see what you mean. Am I walking funny?”
“Not yet.”
“How comforting.”
The kids formed a haphazard circle around a well-used fire pit. Rio eased onto the grass not far from Jill, noting Bonnie had snared a spot right next to Dawson, but she clearly wasn’t the only one who saw his raw, youthful sex appeal, and Dawson laughed and flirted with ease. He was Kim’s stepbrother and that was really all Rio knew. She pried the fingers of concern loose from her mind. If there was a safe place to flirt, this was it.
David, who’d disappeared momentarily into the woods, returned with his arms full of wood. He winked when he got to the fire pit and let the bundle tumble to the ground.
“I happen to know where we keep a secret stash of approved firewood.”
“David’s our chief fire builder,” Jill said. “He can actually make flame from sticks, but we let him use a match.”
“You really, really were a Boy Scout?” Rio asked.
“Really, really.”
“He was an army Boy Scout.” Jill patted him on the shoulder. “Tell her.”
A slight shadow flickered through David’s eyes, and he shot Jill a semi-dirty look. “She thinks it’s a big deal,” he said. “I acted as my unit’s survival expert, but we all learned how to survive over there.”
“Over there?”
“Iraq. Most of the time we were in Basra. Occasionally we’d send patrols out into the desert. We all knew how to build fires. Not a big deal.”
Something about the casual way he dismissed the topic while deftly setting up tinder and kindling for a fire belied a more serious truth. His actions appeared instinctive, as if building a fire were a sport he’d trained for just like his riding. When he had a log cabin shape around the center, he pulled a small box of stick matches from his pocket, struck the match head, and gently set the flame into his pile of dry leaves and small branch tips. They flared. David cupped his hands and blew gently, urging the brand-new fire to catch the slightly larger twigs.
Rio stared a moment at his pursed lips, swallowed, and turned away.
What was wrong with her? She was letting David scramble her nerve center wherever they went. He still wore jeans and the button-down shirt. Now the top two buttons were undone, and as he brushed down the fabric to get rid of the wood residue, Rio caught a glimpse of smooth skin dusted with dark hair. He thwarted her attempt to look away again by stepping from the little blaze and taking a seat beside her.