Читать книгу Cowboy After Dark - Vicki Thompson Lewis - Страница 13

5

“I CAN’T SEE very well.” As Hope bobbed along on Isabeau, she peered into the woods on either side of the narrow US Forest Service road. The extremely dark and scary woods. Any one of those shadows could be a bear, maybe even a grizzly. They’d have cubs this time of year, right? That made them more dangerous.

After several glasses of wine this afternoon, she’d convinced herself that an evening horseback ride with a handsome cowboy was a great plan. Now she longed for the cozy and very safe ranch house. Uh-oh. Something rustled in the bushes.

Liam kept moving forward, but he turned in his saddle to glance back at her. “Can you see the light on my saddle?”

“Shh. I hear something.” She went very still and tried to separate the various sounds—the clip-clop of the horses’ hooves, the creak of the saddles, the wind sighing through the top branches of the pines. The rustling had stopped.

No, there it was again. Just a little rustle, though. No branches breaking or stones knocked aside. Probably something fairly small like a skunk or a raccoon. In the distance, an owl hooted.

She focused on the indistinct shape of Liam up ahead on his horse, Navarre. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

“I was just going to say that if you can see my light, that’s all you need. Really more than you need. Isabeau will follow Navarre, and they both have this route down cold. We could loop the reins around the saddle horns and let them take us out and back.”

“What would they do if they saw or smelled a bear?”

“They’d let us know, but I—”

“How?” She pictured Isabeau turning her head and saying, Bear at three o’clock. Check it out.

“They’d get fairly agitated. Horses are prey animals, so they won’t like it if a bear shows up.”

“Or a cougar?”

“That, too.”

“So they’re like an early warning signal.”

“They are, but I don’t expect to see any predators tonight. If someone had spotted a bear or a cougar around here in the past few weeks, pictures would be on the internet. Nobody said a word at dinner, and they would have since they knew we were going out riding.”

Some of the tension eased from her body. “Good to know.”

“Sorry if you were worried. I should have said something earlier.”

“And I should have remembered that you’re an experienced wilderness guide. You wouldn’t bring me out here if you thought there was a chance I’d be eaten by a bear.”

“Good Lord. Were you really picturing that?”

“We established earlier today that I have a vivid imagination.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I suppose we did.”

“And it’s very dark out here. You can’t see what might be going on in the woods. Anything could be lurking there, ready to spring. The trees are pretty close.”

He turned a fraction more toward her. “Do you want to go back?”

Now was her chance to spend the rest of the evening chatting on the front porch with Herb and Rosie plus whoever else was still hanging around after dinner. All she had to do was say the word.

“Listen, we don’t have to do this if it makes you nervous.”

But then she wouldn’t have a chance to be alone with Liam, and that opportunity might not come along again anytime soon. “I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me a little nervous.”

“Then let’s turn around.” He wheeled Navarre in her direction.

“No, wait.”

“I don’t want to scare you to death.” He rode toward her. “After I go past, just neck-rein Isabeau, and she’ll turn and follow.”

“I don’t want to go back.”

He stopped Navarre right next to her. On the narrow road, their stirrups were inches apart. Light from both lanterns illuminated his face, and he looked worried. “If you’ll be embarrassed about showing up so soon after we left, we can cook up a plausible story.”

“That’s not the problem. I don’t want to miss this chance to spend time with you.”

“Then we’ll make up a story that requires us to drive somewhere.”

The light allowed her to see just how blue his eyes were. His long lashes made his eyes his most compelling feature, but his mouth drew her attention, too. She had a feeling he’d be fun to kiss. He had a little scar on the left side of his full lower lip, and she wondered how it had come to be there.

“Hope?”

She blinked. What had he just said? Oh, right. “I don’t want to go through all that. Riding at night is something I’ve never done before, and at first I was feeling a little uneasy. Now that we’ve talked it through, I’m fine.”

His jet-black eyebrows drew together. “Are you sure?”

“I’m absolutely sure. Let’s keep going.”

“I’d suggest riding side by side, but the road’s a little narrow for that, and Isabeau’s used to walking behind.”

“Seriously, I’ll be okay.”

“I was planning to surprise you with our destination, but maybe I should tell you now in case you don’t like the idea.”

She’d seen the blanket rolled up and strapped behind his saddle. Sharing a blanket with him could be exciting or terrifying, depending on where he chose to lay it out. “I hope it’s not a cave.”

“No, it’s a meadow, a fairly large one. Along the road, the trees mostly block the sky, but in the meadow you’ll be able to see the stars really well.”

“That sounds lovely.”

The concern cleared from his expression. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe.”

“I should have realized that all along. You probably think I’m a real scaredy-cat.”

“Not at all. Today you faced down my truck. Tonight when you got nervous, you didn’t fall apart and beg me to take you back. You started collecting facts about the potential for bodily harm. I don’t blame you for wanting to protect yourself. I’d rather have that than deal with someone who has no sense of self-preservation.”

“Believe me, I have a well-developed sense of self-preservation.” Now.

“All righty. Let me continue on past you and get Navarre turned around. Then we’ll go check out that meadow.”

“Good. I’d like that.”

He smiled. “Thanks for sticking this out. I hope it’s worth it.”

His smile created a different kind of tension, one that was far more pleasant than her fear had been. “I’m sure it will be.”

Touching his fingers to the brim of his hat, he rode on until he could turn Navarre around. Her libido was fully functioning by the time he moved into the lead and slowed the pace. Unfortunately she lost her view of his cute butt to the shadows of the tall pines lining the road.

He turned to check on her. “You okay back there?”

“I’m doing great.” To think she’d considered going back. Even if he’d concocted some reason for them to take a drive, that trip couldn’t possibly have been as exciting as this. “By the way, I love that Rosie and Herb named their horses Isabeau and Navarre. I was a big fan of Ladyhawke.”

“So were all the guys at Thunder Mountain.”

She laughed. “Really? A chick flick?”

“Don’t let them hear you call it that. Cowboys believe they’re descended from medieval knights, you know.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Think about it. We may not wear armor, but we sure do ride horses. We also believe we can rescue the fair maiden from the dragon who has her locked in a tower.”

He couldn’t know how appealing she found that image. “Have you ever been called upon for a rescue mission?”

“Can’t say that I have. But I could rescue if necessary. All of us feel that way. We used to talk about it around the campfire at night. Sure, we were young and naive, but we meant every word. Herb and Rosie encouraged us to think in those terms. They said real cowboys stand up for what’s right and protect those who can’t protect themselves.”

“That’s very heroic.” She was doing her best not to be dazzled, but it wasn’t easy. Sure, they were only words, but it was the way he said them that caught her attention. They were more than words to him.

“Nah, we’re not heroes. Just cowboys.”

“If you say so.” Despite living in Wyoming all her life, she hadn’t spent much time around cowboys.

“So what other movies do you like?” he asked.

“Love stories and action-adventure, mostly. Sometimes you can get a combination of the two, which is my favorite if they’re well-done. How about you?”

“I like any movie where good triumphs over evil. Spare me from the weep-fests where everybody dies at the end.”

“I know! I hate that!”

“What kind of stories did you used to write?”

She felt as if he’d dumped a bucket of ice water over her head. Phil had brought up the topic at dinner, and Hope had dismissed it as a dead issue not worthy of conversation. Everyone had seemed willing to let it drop.

But not Liam, apparently. Answer him, and fast, so you can ditch this discussion. “Love stories with some action-adventure thrown in. Amateur stuff. I never had anything published.”

“Except in the school paper. You must have been happy about that.”

“I was.” Overjoyed. Proud as a peacock. The comments from her teachers and her friends had convinced her she would eventually be a bestselling author, maybe even make a living with her writing. “But that was a long time ago. I’ve outgrown all that.”

“Hmm.”

“What about you? Did you letter in every sport the school offered? I’ll bet you did.”

“Sports were a great outlet for me. Can’t say my grades were terrific, though. Fortunately I had a few friends who were bookworms. They helped me pass.”

“Girls?”

He laughed. “Yeah, mostly. They took pity on me.”

“Oh, no doubt. I’m sure they felt extremely sorry for the captain of the football team who almost single-handedly took the school to the state championship. That’s why they spent hours out at the ranch helping you with your homework.”

“You must have been quizzing Grady about my checkered past.”

“No, I just made that up.”

“Really?” He turned around to stare at her. “You haven’t been talking to Grady or Rosie or anybody about me?”

“Scout’s honor.”

“Wow. You weren’t kidding about your imagination. Even more amazing, you nailed it, except I didn’t single-handedly take us to the championship. It was a team effort all the way. We had some awesome players that year.”

She smiled at that. Heroic and modest, too.

He faced forward again. “So what do you do with that supercharged imagination now that you’re not dreaming up love stories with some action-adventure thrown in?”

Heroic, modest and persistent. Damn. “I, um...do crafts.”

“Oh? Like what?”

She should have guessed he would ask. Quickly she reviewed the various half-finished projects tucked in her closet—knitting, embroidery, woodcarving and candle making. She’d lost interest in all of them, so she couldn’t actually claim to be doing those crafts. “This and that.”