Summer at Mustang Ridge (15 page)

“What else do the ‘experts’”—Krista put the word in finger quotes—“say you should be doing?”

“Encouraging her to interact with me as much as possible. Using positive reinforcement. Setting her up to succeed and then praising the heck out of her. Pretty much the same stuff you and the others do every day, with both the horses and the guests.” She paused, grimacing. “I hate to admit it, but I don’t think I’d make a very good horse trainer. I get impatient waiting for results, and when something isn’t working, I never know whether to keep trying or switch to another theory entirely. I just don’t have the right instincts.”

“Poosh,” Gran said. “Nobody does the first few times around, even with help. That’s the difference between being a horse trainer and being a mother. A trainer gets dozens, maybe hundreds of go-arounds to figure it out and streamline things. A mom has to make it up on the fly.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I’m serious. Foster’s been training mustangs off and on for most of his life, and even he’d tell you that he gets it wrong now and then.”

“Speak of the devil,” Krista said. “Rider ho.”

Shelby’s heartbeat kicked it up several notches as she turned to see a tall, lean cowboy riding toward the camp on a rangy chestnut with a wide blaze. Forcing her voice casual, she said, “I thought it was ‘land ho.’”

Krista shrugged. “When you’re on the ocean, you care about land. Out here, we care about our riders.”

It was that simple, Shelby realized with a smile. And in a way, so was the warm flush of anticipation that washed through her when she saw Foster riding her way. She didn’t know what was going to happen next between them, but she was looking forward to finding out.

Gran nudged her toward the corrals. “Go ahead. You’ll want to tell him how well Lizzie’s been doing.”

“But I should—”

“Take five. We’ll start the steaks when you get back.”

•   •   •

Foster didn’t remember the last time he’d ridden so hard to catch up. Maybe back when he was a boy and the older cowboys left for the roundup before school got out. Or maybe never, because his father and grandfather had drilled it in early and often:
“A true cowboy doesn’t do anything in a hurry, especially when he’s dealing with his stock
.
”
The slower the cattle herded, the more flesh they kept on their bones, and the easier a man went on his horse and dog, the more they’d have left in the tanks when he needed it.

But Vader had kept up without flagging and Brutus clearly hadn’t minded the pace. If anything, the gallop had done the high-spirited chestnut some good, because he was riding smooth, minding his manners, and putting one foot in front of another like a real riding horse. Granted, a good night’s sleep should take care of that, Foster thought as they started down into the shallow bowl that held the camp. But still.

“You made it.” Ty dropped a couple of split rails to let him into the corral. “Made good time, too.”

“Fast horse.”

“Only when he goes straight. How was the gather?”

“Too many machines.” He hated the helicopters and ATVs, would rather have gone pure old school when it came to pulling feral mustangs off the preserves and culling them for sale.

Ty made a disgusted noise, then held out a hand. “Take him for you?”

“You don’t have to.” A man saw to his own horse before himself, always.

“Offered, didn’t I? We got in early, and camp’s in good shape. And I’m betting you’re behind on sleep or food, or both.”

Speaking of food. “Cookie all set up?” Tradition said that the camp’s cook was always Cookie, whether it was a hairy old coot with a schnapps habit—ah, fond memories—or a trio of lovely ladies.

“Yeah, Shelby and her mini-me are here.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

“You didn’t have to. A man gives away his horse to a woman, that says it for him.”

“Brutus needed a few come-to-Jesus rides, and Loco is enjoying the break.”

“If you say so.” Ty grinned, then nodded past him. “Anyway, she’s right behind you.”

Giving it fifty-fifty that Ty was yanking his chain, Foster turned around. And saw her.

With her dark hair braided back, wearing a logo’d snap shirt, jeans, and a mysterious smile, Shelby looked like a rodeo queen who’d gotten roped into the cook shack for the day. If he’d never met her before, he might’ve thought she was a local and wondered why he’d never seen her before. As it was, he could see the city polish in the way she’d tied her bandana in a jaunty, off-center knot at her throat, and the wink of a glittery bracelet on her wrist.

All too aware of Ty standing behind him, probably smirking, he caught her hand and led her back up toward the stream, where the double row of trees provided some cover, some privacy. They were surrounded, with people on one side, horses on the other, but once he tugged her through into a thicker stand of brush, it was like they were all alone, standing on the pebbly edge of the stream while the water rushed by, drowning out the other sounds.

He wanted to tell her how he’d ridden hard to see her, how he’d missed her, thought about her, almost borrowed a phone to call her, but didn’t because hearing her voice would’ve made things worse, not better. But the words crammed in his throat, sticking there as she moved into his arms. He didn’t know if he’d pulled her close or if she had made the move; all he knew was that she was up against him, her body warm and curvy, her eyes bright with anticipation. And the only rational thing to do was kiss her.

He reached down as she came up on her toes, and their mouths met seamlessly, perfectly. Her flavor was new and fresh, yet deeply familiar, as if thinking about her all week had reset his neurons to recognize her taste.

The kiss stretched out, wet and warm, and so welcoming that he wasn’t sure where his body left off anymore and hers began, except where he was hard and aching, and wanted more. But this wasn’t about getting more, not right now. It was about having a good time and getting to know her, and it was about letting her know he was glad to see her, and damn glad she felt the same way. So he told his body to cool it down and he eased the kiss, keeping his hands gentle and making himself step back when he wanted to dive in.

Despite all that, it took him a moment to find his voice. And when he finally did manage to unmute, all he could do was grin down at her and say, “Hey there.”

He’d spent the past week looking forward to seeing her again, and that was the best he could come up with? Man, he was lame.

But she smiled back. “Hey, yourself.”

“How’s it going?” He sucked. Seriously. Part of him wished they could’ve just kept on kissing and skipped the other stuff. Except that he liked talking to her, too. Life would just be better if she handled the conversation, especially right now.

“It’s going good. Really, really good.” Her smile lit. “Lucky is up and nursing on his own, and Doc says all systems are go. Lizzie was there the first time he stood up on his own, and called me using her whistle. I’m afraid to jinx myself by saying she seems better, but she does, knock on wood.” Her words came fast, as if she’d been storing up things to tell him. “I’ve ridden Loco every day . . . and the cat’s out of the bag on him being your prize possession. I know gratitude makes you squirm, so I’ll just say thank you for trusting me with him.” She grinned, looking lighter and more carefree than he’d ever seen her before, as if during the week he’d been gone, she had unlocked parts of herself that she’d been keeping hidden away. “Oh, and dinner’s almost ready.”

He couldn’t stop smiling, probably looked like a fool. He didn’t care, though. What mattered was that she was there, she’d had a good week, and he was so dang happy to see her he could burst. Finding his voice and a few of his brain cells, he finally managed to string together more than a couple of words. “You . . . wow. How long was I gone again?”

“It felt like forever.”

“I know what you mean. Looks like I’ve got some major catching up to do. Maybe you could help me out with that?”

Her grin went wicked. “Absolutely, cowboy.” But then she shot a guilty look in the direction of the campsite, which was barely visible through the trees. “I should get back and help Gran put the steaks on, though. She was good about letting me sneak off to say hi, but I don’t want to leave her in the lurch.”

How could he not adore her? “Meet me later, after dinner. We’ll take the horses out.”

“A moonlit ride?” She sighed happily. “That sounds wonderful.”

“Good. Meet me back here once things settle down around the camp.”

“I will.” She stepped in, reached up, and brushed her lips across his. “I need to go.”

He caught her waist, held her close, and turned the kiss real, reawakening all the urges he’d started to tamp down, and welcoming the sharp ache. “I’ll see you later. And, Shelby?”

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright. “Yes?”

“For the record, I most definitely thought about you.”

D
i
nner wasn’t like anything Shelby had ever experienced before, and not just because she and Gran were cooking over open fires. Sure, it put her back in that “is this really my life?” place to flip the meat with long-handled tongs and hear the juices sizzle onto the coals below, then slap steaks onto tin pans with ladlefuls of beans and a biscuit on the top, and hand the whole yummy-smelling mess to someone wearing a cowboy hat and a layer of trail dust. And the snorts and occasional whinnies coming from the other side of the stream, along with the smell of horses and wood smoke, made it all that much more intense.

But it was more than that.

It was Foster.

Every cell of her body was aware of him, tuned to him. She knew where he was without looking, but she kept looking anyway, needing to convince herself that of all the stuff that didn’t quite feel real, this part was. He was here, and they had a date for later tonight.

Riding in the moonlight. Wow
.

“Medium-well, please.”

The order brought her back down to earth.
Hello? Got a job to do here
.

“Medium-well it is.” She loaded a steak and the trimmings, handed it over to the guest—a big guy in his forties with a barrel chest, almost no butt, and a pair of bright red suspenders holding up his jeans. “Enjoy, and don’t forget to come back for seconds! Next?” She grinned at a dirty, happy-looking Lizzie. “Let me guess. Well done to the point of burned, plus A-1 sauce?”

Beside her, Gran faked a shudder. “Oh, the horror.”

“Yeah, but she’ll take an extra biscuit.” The two littlest ones, to go with her small steak and half a potato.

Gran beamed. “Well, that makes all the difference, then. Enjoy.”

As her daughter turned away, though, Shelby, said, “Ahem?”

Lizzie turned back.

“Do me a favor and wash something before you eat. Your hands would be a good place to start.” And darned if she didn’t get an eye roll. A really, really small one, but still. Grinning, she turned back to the chuck line. “Next?”

“Chef’s choice,” said a deep, smooth voice.

Shelby’s heart thudded double time as Foster stepped into position opposite her, but she found a grin that she hoped covered some of the too-intense sizzle. “Just a plain potato, then?”

“There’s nothing plain about you.” His slow, sexy smile made her belly tighten as she handed over his food. “Thank you kindly.” He tipped his hat. Then he glanced around, lowered his voice, and said, “I’ll see you later, Shelby.”

“For seconds?”

He winked. “If you like.”

After that, the rest of the line was pretty much a blur. Unlike back at the ranch, everyone was responsible for washing his or her own pan and utensils—another cowboy rule, apparently—which meant that cleanup was a snap. Dessert was a Tupperware of brownies and cookies, and the leftovers went in a couple of coolers at the end of the chuck truck, to tide folks over as the night went dark and the cook fire farthest away from the tents became a marshmallow toaster.

As things wound down, Shelby said, “Do you want me to help—”

“Nope,” Gran interrupted. “You’re done. Go sit by the fire or something.”

“I vote for ‘or something,’” Krista said as she came around the truck. Her eyes gleamed. “I just happened to see Foster on the other side of the stream, saddling Loco.”

Shelby was grateful for the darkness. “Must be taking him for a ride. It’s his horse, after all.”

“Figured that out, did you? And no, he’s not taking Loco, at least not alone. Brutus is already tacked. Looks like he’s headed out for a night ride, and is expecting some company.” She paused, then tipped her head toward the corrals. “Go on. Gran and I will hang out with Lizzie, put her to bed when she fades.”

Shelby hesitated, throat closing. “You haven’t asked. Neither of you has asked.”

“We figured you’d tell us when you were ready.”

“I’m not ready.” She pressed her palms to her burning cheeks. “For any of it. And Foster . . .”

“Is a big boy,” Gran filled in for her. “He’s been making his own decisions—and ours, at least when it comes to the horses—for a long time.”

“Okay.” She exhaled. “Right. He’s done this before. It’s not a big deal. Just two grown-ups having a little fun, that’s all. Nothing to see here.”

“Um . . .” Krista looked at her gran. “Not to freak you out, but no.”

“Never?”

“As far as I know, you’re the first woman who’s caught his eye since he’s been here.” Krista grinned evilly. “But no pressure.”

Yikes.
Shelby swallowed hard. “It’s not . . . we’re just . . .” Jeez, what was it about him that reduced her to stammering?

Krista gave her a little shove. “Go. See what happens. If you ask me, you guys might be good for each other.”

Relief washed through her, cool and cleansing. She hadn’t realized how much she’d wanted their approval until she had it. Loner or not, Foster had been theirs for a long time. “I . . .” At a loss—for words, for logic—she hugged Krista hard. “Thank you.”

“Any time. Don’t worry about Lizzie. We’ll take good care of her.”

“I’ll go tell her.” At least that she’d be going out for a ride and would be back later. As for the other stuff . . . well, they would have to see.

Heart starting to thud against her ribs, Shelby headed for where Stace and Lizzie sat near the fire, toasting marshmallows.

“Wait,” Gran called. When Shelby turned back, she held out a Ziploc. “Want a biscuit for luck?”

She was stuffed, but it didn’t matter. “Absolutely.” When it came to men—and especially this man—she could use all the luck she could get.

•   •   •

She was coming, Foster told himself. Of course she was coming. He’d seen her excitement earlier, and he’d felt the spark between them in the chuck line. A woman didn’t look at a man like that and then stand him up.

Right?

Loco nudged him, then shook his head until his bit jingled. Beside him, Brutus stood quietly, still relatively tame from the hard riding they’d done to reach the camp.

“She’ll be here,” he said, giving Loco a fond pat. “Stace said she’s been doing a good job with you, has a nice feel.” And from one horseman to another, that was high praise.

Suddenly, Brutus’s head came up, and he elephant-snorted into the darkness.

“Don’t you dare,” he growled.

“Oh,” said a voice from the shadows. “Should I leave?”

“No! I wasn’t talking to you.” His pulse picked up as Shelby materialized out of the darkness. “You can totally dare.”

“To do what?”

“Whatever you want, within reason.” He held out Loco’s reins. “How about we start with a ride?”

She didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Thanks for getting him ready.”

“You were busy. Great meal, by the way. It really hit the spot.” He winced. Give it another minute and he’d be talking about the weather. Darn it, he’d been doing better there in the dinner line, had even managed to flirt some. But now it was back to feeling strange, like this was too important, even though they agreed this was just a summer thing, some fun between a couple of adults who didn’t get much in the way of fun, at least not like this. “Ah, can I give you a leg up?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.”

No doubt she could’ve gotten on from the ground, but she went ahead and faced Loco with one hand on the saddle horn, the other on the cantle, and crooked her leg. He caught her knee and boosted her up with little effort, then waited while she found her stirrups.

A light buoyancy pressed at the back of his throat, making him want to rub his chest as he snugged up on Brutus’s reins and climbed aboard, settling easily into the rubbed-smooth saddle. It was a little like the feeling he got on a perfect morning, or when a stubborn greenie finally got it and started working with him, not against him. Only right now it was coming from her, from being with her in the darkness. And from something inside him.

He nudged Brutus over next to Loco, who stood with his head up and his ears pricked happily. “You two ready?”

Her eyes shone in the moonlight as she nodded. “I know this is all in a day’s work for you, but it’s an adventure for me.”

“I love a good adventure. Let’s go!”

He led the way up the hill, along the stream, and away from camp, grateful when a small, wispy cloud scudded across the moon, giving them a bit of darkness for their escape. No doubt Ty, Krista, and a few of the others would be watching the horses leave—and would keep an eye out for their safe return—but he’d rather not be on public display, at least not in this.

Been there, done that.

“Ride on up next to me,” he said, waving her forward as they reached the crest of the hill. “I’d like it, and so would Brutus. He hasn’t done much night riding yet, and would appreciate the company.”

She nudged Loco up and the horses jostled together in the darkness, with Brutus taking reassurance from the older, steadier horse, bumping Foster’s and Shelby’s legs in the process. She filled her lungs and tipped her head back to look up as the moon broke free of the cloud, bathing the world silver and blue, the light so bright that it threw their shadows on the ground. “I never would’ve guessed you could ride by moonlight.” Her voice was full of wonder.

“Horses have pretty good night vision.”
Come on, you can do better than this
. “I, ah, ride out lots during the full moon. Never brought anyone else along before, though.”

She was silent for a moment, the only sounds the creaks and jingles of their tack and the clink of horseshoes against the occasional rock. Then she said, “So . . . is this the local equivalent of buying me a drink, or is this first date territory?”

It wasn’t until he exhaled that he realized he’d been holding his breath. “I’m taking you someplace special. At least I think it’s special.”

“First date,” she decided, and sent him a little smile. “It’s been a while.”

“Bet I’ve got you beat,” he said, determined to stay in the not-talking-about-the-weather zone if it killed him.

“Try me.”

“It’s been a few years since I skinny-dipped.”

“Is that a metaphor, or are we talking real nudie swimming?”

“The latter. And that’s the second date, cowboy-style.”

She grinned. “Then what’s going steady?”

“That’s when he lets you ride his favorite horse,” he said, then winced, afraid he was accidentally getting in too deep already. Where did banter stop and expectations begin?

“I . . . um . . .” She stared at Loco’s ears. “One of the guests last week told me he was yours. Dana. She said Loco was a celebrity. You, too.”

“That was a long time ago. But yeah, Loco and I are a team. Where I go, he goes.” He chuckled. “Don’t freak, though. Letting you use him was for my own peace of mind. I knew he’d keep you safe and teach you right, and wouldn’t do anything to set things back with Lizzie. Besides, Brutus here needed some saddle time with someone who wasn’t going to put up with his back talk.” He gave the mustang gelding a pat. “We seem to have reached an understanding.”

“You’re good at that. Understanding things, I mean. Horses. People.”

“Don’t give me too much credit. I’m much better with animals.”

“Lizzie would disagree. So would I.”

And wasn’t that a bloody miracle? “She’s a special case. As for you . . .”

“Ye-e-s?” She drew out the word.

“Bear with me. I’m about as rusty as a guy can get, and I wasn’t very good at this stuff to begin with.” Hadn’t had much practice.

Her lips curved. “You’re doing okay from where I’m sitting. You know. On your favorite horse.”

He laughed, finally starting to believe that he wasn’t imagining things, and they were actually on the same page here. “You’re okay, Shelby. You’re very okay. Come on. Let’s ride.”

•   •   •

They rode for maybe an hour, catching glimpses of the stream as they wound along ridges and valleys, and picked their way across some loose rocks. They dismounted once to lead the horses across one of the rocky sections, then remounted on the other side and continued on. After that first spurt of conversation, they rode mostly in silence, settling into the rhythm of the horses and the night. Shelby decided that she liked how he didn’t feel the need to fill the air with chatter. Sure, it meant she didn’t know all that much about him, but how much did that really matter? They were just having fun.

And she was having fun. She really, really was.

As they entered a small stand of trees, he reined Brutus to a halt and said, “Listen. Can you hear it?”

Loco had already stopped, as if reading her mind. She cocked her head, lips curving when she realized that what she’d initially thought was a breeze ruffling the leaves was the rush of water. “Rapids?”

“Even better.” He clucked Brutus forward, and within moments they were pushing out of the trees, to where the moonlight splashed silver on a wide pool of water churned up by a twenty-foot waterfall.

“Oh!” she breathed. “It’s beautiful!” The water fell down from a sheer, rocky cliff, split around a promontory, and plummeted to the pool, which roiled and spun and then fed out in a narrow river that headed back the way they had come.