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Of course by the time they reached the ranch Mallory had an inkling about what Zach had up his sleeve. What she hadn’t yet decided was whether to be touched by the gesture or throttle the man. As if she could do such a thing. But even if she hadn’t figured out what was afoot, the long ramps inside the squeaky-clean, metal-walled barn would’ve given it away. As though sensing they needed space, Adrienne hung back, talking quietly with Henry. Or maybe Henry was the handsome, and very placid, chestnut gelding standing at the far end of the ramp. All saddled up. Waiting.

For her.

“You want me to get on a horse.” Her voice echoed in the cavernous space, the slight echo taunting. Chiding.

“Think of it more as...several things falling into place. What you said the other day, then last night. Then your mother reminding me about how you haven’t ridden since your accident—”

“So this is her idea?”

“No, ma’am, entirely mine. And it didn’t even occur to me until I remembered the appointment this morning. But this isn’t about me, or her, or anybody wanting you to do anything. It’s about...”

He squatted beside her, a move that under normal circumstances would’ve irritated the snot out of her—as though she were a child who needed to be cajoled into doing something she didn’t want to do. And she wasn’t entirely sure that wasn’t the case here.

His smile would be her undoing. “Like I said, I’m only giving you an opportunity. The rest is up to you. If it puts your mind at ease, though, this is what Adrienne does full-time.”

The horse shifted slightly, as though impatient for her to get on with it. Of course she knew that wasn’t true, that therapy horses were the very epitomes of patience—

“I’m scared,” she said, so softly she could barely hear her own voice.

“I know.”

Zach didn’t touch her, didn’t try to reassure her or talk her out of her feelings. Didn’t even ask her to explain them. All he did was give her permission to feel them.

Something nobody else had ever done.

Mallory shut her eyes, thinking how rah-rah everyone else had been since the accident, pushing her forward, never letting her give up, never giving her even a moment to doubt herself. Sometimes they’d meant well—like Mama—other times it was because helplessness makes other people uncomfortable. Her ex, for example. But whatever their motives, the result had been the same: A lot more of her so-called progress than she’d realized had been for others’ benefit than her own.

“I can really leave if I want to?”

Zach stood, his hands on his hips. “You really can.”

Such a heady thing, freedom.

She grasped the wheels’ rims. Breathed in, out. In, out. Felt Zach’s touch on her shoulder, light and firm and steady. Then Adrienne rolled up next to her.

“Zach tells me you were a barrel racer.”

“I was. Once upon a time.”

“You must miss it.”

Almost the same words Zach had used when asking her about her acting career. Her reaction, though, couldn’t’ve been more different. Because this time, heat surged through her. Of remembered adrenaline rushes. Joy. That freedom thing again.

Her heart started beating so fast she half thought she might pass out. “I do.”

“For me,” Adrienne said, “it was being afraid of not being able to feel the horse under me. Of not having the control I’d been so proud of. Finally realized nobody else was gonna get past that for me.
But
me.”

Mallory turned to the older woman. “How long before you got back on?”

Adrienne’s lips tilted, like she understood. “Six months. And don’t go comparing yourself to me or anybody else,” she said, when Mallory looked back at the horse, frowning. “Everyone’s path is different.”

“And some are shorter than others.”

“This is very true.”

Zach squeezed her shoulder. “Would it be easier if I left?”

“Probably. But I don’t want you to.”

Adrienne chuckled. “You saying what I think you’re saying?”

“God help me, but...okay.” She gripped the rims again. “Let’s do this.”

She had a choice of using a harness and crane to be set on the horse, or—as Adrienne suggested—rolling up the ramp into a closer position so she could grab the horn and hoist herself over the saddle, which was specially fitted with a back brace and various belts to strap her in and wrap around her thighs.

“There’s as many ways of getting on and off a horse as there are people. It might take some trial and error to figure out which method works best for you. We can even help you train a horse to kneel so you get on, if that’s a method that appeals. You get in and out of a car by yourself? Without a lift, I mean?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“Then you should be able to do this.”

Mallory nodded toward the horse. “Could he and I have a little chat first?”

“Sure thing. Henry?” The horse’s ears flicked. “Got somebody for you to meet.”

The horse calmly eyed her as she rolled up to him, lowering his head so she could finger his bridle’s noseband, inhale the intoxicating aroma of leather and horse. Maybe the scent seemed stronger because they were inside, or maybe because anticipation had heightened her senses, but it’d been a long time since she’d felt this...ready. For anything.

“Are we cool, dude?” she whispered, gently stroking his blaze. “Because I have no idea what I’m doing...”

Then she looked over at Zach, still there, his thumbs hooked in his jeans’ pockets, his mouth canted in that sorta smile that had already become endearingly familiar. And frighteningly dear.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s do this.”

Zach moved in to hold the bridle, an unnecessary precaution since Henry was the calmest horse in the universe. Still, it felt good knowing he was there, that he wouldn’t let her topple off the animal, even if he couldn’t prevent her looking like an idiot as, with Booth’s help, she finally got herself in the damn saddle.

But once she was...

“Oh, my goodness,” she breathed out, realizing she was grinning like a fool.

Zach laughed. “How’s it feel?”

“Incredible.” She looked down at Adrienne. “Can I take him out?”

“If you want, sure. Wouldn’t try anything too fancy, though—”

“I won’t.” She reached out to pat the horse’s neck, then wrapped the reins around her hand, the familiarity of the simple gesture sending a thrill of pleasure through her. “I promise.” Her gaze met Zach’s. “You’ll come with me?”

There went that smile again. Only this time she saw a spark in his eyes she hadn’t before. If pressed, she’d have to say the man was tickled pink with himself, that his plan had worked. Which in turn ignited in Mallory a spark of another sort, one she hadn’t felt in longer than she could remember:

Competitiveness.

“You have to ask?” Zach said, and she thought,
Oh, yeah, buddy...the game is
on.
Not that she knew when, or how, she’d get even, but get even, she would.

Because she was a real big believer in the Golden Rule.

“What’re you grinning about?” Zach asked, a lightness buoying his words that made her heart sing and ache at the same time. She glanced down at him, at this dear, kind man who deserved a good, swift kick in the rear to blast him out of the hole he seemed determined to bury himself in.

“That right in this moment,” she said, looking in front of her, “things couldn’t be better.” When she lowered her gaze again, he was facing forward, his expression...careful, she thought. “Thank you.”

A smile flickered. “You’re welcome. But it was no big deal.”

“For you, maybe,” she said after a moment. “For me? Hell, yes.”

His quiet laugh wrapped right around her heart and squeezed tight.

It was a careful ride, for sure, this first venture back into that world she’d loved more than anything for so long. But every bit as thrilling as the first time she’d felt the power of a horse galloping underneath her, her first rodeo, her first win. She couldn’t feel her legs, no, but somehow Henry became her legs. And she’d never felt more free.

It was over too soon, but everyone agreed she probably shouldn’t push too hard, too fast. She knew they were right, but...

“When can I come back?” she said later in Adrienne’s kitchen after the woman made her a cup of tea and Zach had finally gone to check on that mare. Weathered skin pleated at the corners of the woman’s deep brown eyes.

“Once a horse junkie, always a horse junkie. But if you’re really serious, you should probably think about getting your own horse. So the two of you can train together.” The other woman took a sip of her own tea. “Zach said you already bought a horse for your son.”

“I did. Although I haven’t brought him over yet. I suppose it’d crossed my mind, how great it would be to be able to ride with Landon, but...” She smiled. “Now I can. Or at least eventually.”

“He’s coming out soon, I take it?”

“Yes. End of next week, in fact.” Then she frowned. “How’d you know that...? Wait—what’s Zach said?”

A funny little smile curved the woman’s mouth. “Enough to know the boy’s sweet on you.”

“Hardly,” Mallory mumbled, even as her cheeks burned. Adrienne leaned forward.

“I’m not saying he knows that yet. Or to be honest if he’ll ever figure it out. Men can be dumb as bricks sometimes. And the way he loved his wife...” Humor sparkled in her eyes. “I used to tell Booth, he needed to take lessons.”

“So you’ve known Zach for a while?”

“All his life. Horse people from the same area are like family. Which I suppose you know all too well, growing up in a ranching community yourself.”

Mallory almost laughed. “What else did he tell you?”

“Well, let’s see...that you’re divorced and your boy lives with his daddy back in LA, that
you
live with your mama and a spoiled Boston terrier named Edward—”

“Edgar.”

“Edgar, right. And that you’re a film star. Although he didn’t have to tell me that part, I already knew it. What he didn’t tell me was that you’re even prettier in person than you are on-screen. But I suspect he’d decided to keep that part to himself. So I wouldn’t jump to any conclusions he didn’t want me jumping to. Only, in my experience? Men don’t generally talk that much about a gal they’re not interested in.”

A huge, fluffy gray cat jumped up onto Mallory’s lap and settled in, purring loudly enough to rattle windows. Smiling, Mallory began stroking the soft fur, then said, “So, tell me your story. What happened?”

Adrienne snorted. “That wouldn’t be you changing the subject, now, would it?”

“Absolutely. Well?”

“Car accident, twenty years ago,” the other woman said flatly. “That I wasn’t killed was a damn miracle. Like you, I was heavy into the rodeo life. Couldn’t imagine doing anything else. However in those days there weren’t as many options as there are now. Or at least, people didn’t think so. I got back up on a horse, absolutely. But I never competed again.”

“You still ride?”

“Some. But my injury...” The older woman’s mouth thinned. “I was grateful for what I had. What I could still do. What I
can
still do. But I finally decided maybe I needed to focus my energies elsewhere. So Booth and I set up this place.” She swept a graying strand of wavy dark hair behind her ear, revealing a small diamond stud. “We don’t only work with spinal cord injuries, but with all kinds of folks who could benefit from what the horses have to offer. Something about them...they’re just natural healers, you know?”

“I do,” Mallory said. She’d seen it before, of course, when she was younger, even if she’d temporarily forgotten—that almost magical way horses often had of making a person connect with something inside themselves they hadn’t even known was there. How almost angel-like they were, in a way—four-legged, hooved emissaries of joy. Of power. How working with them, riding them, required a combination of control and trust that inspired,
instilled
, confidence and freedom—

“What’re you thinking?” Adrienne asked, and Mallory released a breath.

“How funny it is, the way life works. That I’d given up—willingly—such a huge part of who I was to go in an entirely different direction. Only to be led right back to the beginning, maybe.” She met Adrienne’s astute gaze. “I guess I always thought of life as linear. Maybe not so much?”

The other woman leaned back in her chair, her hands folded over the stomach. “Guess that depends on what we have to learn, whether or not we keep moving forward or circle back for a refresher course on what we might’ve missed before.” Then she released a deep belly laugh that made Mallory smile. “As good a philosophy as any, I suppose.”

Her husband and Zach reappeared a moment later. After a couple minutes’ conversation about the expectant mare—everything looked good, Zach doubted they’d need him for the foaling—Mallory and Zach were back on the road, both lost in thought as they listened to whatever country station they could pick up out this far. And why did it not surprise her that Zach Talbot would be so old-school? It was kind of comforting, in a way, reminding her of that road-trip movie she’d done a few years back, the one set in the sixties. That character, too, had not been the same person at the end of the story she’d been at the beginning, same as the woman returning to Whispering Pines was most definitely not the same one who’d left this morning.

“When I said I was scared,” she finally said, “how come you didn’t press the issue? Ask for details?”

A moment passed before he said, his gaze fixed out the windshield, “Because I figured the details didn’t matter.” His gaze barely bounced off hers. “Did they?”

“Not really, I guess.”

“Then there ya go. And anyway, this wasn’t about me. The
why
behind whatever that fear was...didn’t figure it was any of my business.”

“I see.”

She heard him blow out a short breath. “I’m not trying to shut you out, Mallory. Believe it or not. You wanna talk, I’ll listen. Like I said. But I figure the stuff inside a person’s head is private, you know? More than that...it’s, well,
sacred
, I guess you could call it. Nobody has any right to go poking around in there unless they’d been specifically invited. So my only goal was to see you happy. And I’m guessing you were.”