Lasso Her Heart. Anna Schmidt

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СКАЧАТЬ as Cody swung down from Blackhawk still holding the reins. “And this is?” Bethany asked, approaching the horse that up close seemed far too high off the ground to be successfully mounted.

      “Thunderbolt,” Cody replied, handing her the reins. The shadow cast by his Stetson made it impossible to tell if he was smiling, but Bethany was certain that he was.

      Gingerly she patted the horse’s neck. “Well, Mr. Thunderbolt, we have a lot of ground to cover this morning. Are you ready?”

      Thunderbolt snorted and tossed his head, then stood perfectly still as if inviting her to mount.

      “That’s my boy,” she said as she reached for the horn of the saddle and prepared to put one foot in the stirrup. Problem was the stirrup was about six inches higher than she could gracefully manage.

      “Here,” Cody said, offering a bridge of his hands for her to step into.

      “Thank you,” she said as she gave him her sunniest smile and accepted his help. This time his face was fully exposed as he looked up at her mounted on the horse. She took some pleasure in the confusion that was mirrored in his eyes. Whatever attitude he had prepared to deal with this morning, this one clearly wasn’t it.

      “We aim to please here at the Daybreak Ranch,” he muttered as he returned to Blackhawk and fumbled with the closing on his saddlebag. He pulled out a red aluminum travel mug and held it up. “I believe you ordered coffee—strong and hot.”

      The last thing she needed was more coffee, but this was business and she had requested it. “Wonderful,” she said, leaning down to accept the closed mug. She flicked the lid open and took a sip. “Just right,” she assured him as she closed the opening and tried to figure out where to put the thing.

      “Here,” he said, handing her a portable cup holder. “Hook this over your saddle horn.”

      She saw that the holder had been specially constructed for just that purpose. “That’s really cool,” she said and meant it as she placed the mug in the holder.

      Cody mounted Blackhawk and took a swallow from the mug she hadn’t noticed on his saddle. “Ready for the grand tour?”

      Thunderbolt pawed the ground restlessly. Bethany hoped the steed did not intend to prove his name was accurate. “Ready,” she replied and tried to hide her nervousness behind a sunny smile. She produced a small notepad and pen from her jacket pocket and held them up for him to see. “I hope you don’t mind if I make notes, ideas that might come to mind for the wedding events.”

      Cody nodded and tapped Blackhawk’s flanks with his boot heels. Blackhawk headed around the house and Thunderbolt followed. Thunderbolt’s sudden movement made Bethany’s pen fly out of her hand as she fought to find a rhythm that would not have her rising several inches in the air and then slamming back onto the hard saddle with every step.

      In minutes they had put some distance between themselves and the buildings of the ranch and climbed to the top of a small rise. Cody reined Blackhawk to a halt and turned the horse to face the view below. Thunderbolt followed suit. Bethany fought to calm her racing heart and find a position on the saddle that didn’t feel as if she were sitting on rocks.

      “Bird’s-eye view,” Cody announced. “Down there is the hub of Daybreak—the house, guesthouse, stables, barn, paddock area, pastures, training corral. How about a rodeo?”

      Was he serious? He certainly looked serious. “A rodeo?”

      “For the engagement party here—could be a real hoot.”

      “Interesting idea,” she said halfheartedly.

      “Yeah. I can see it now—Erika could lasso Dad instead of a calf.”

      “You cannot be serious,” she blurted.

      Cody laughed long and hard. “Gotcha,” he said, pointing his finger at her.

      “Very funny,” she said and even to her ears her voice sounded prim and petulant. She pretended an inordinate interest in her surroundings. “How far does your land go?”

      “Far as you can see and then some.” He turned in his saddle and motioned toward the mountain range behind them—mountains that were closer now than they had been from the guesthouse. “Our property stops at the base of the mountains there.” He handed her a pair of binoculars for a closer look. “See that hollow over there just down from that first cliff? There’s a cabin there.”

      She swallowed hard and peered through the binoculars, swinging them up and down and side to side until she saw the rustic cabin set into the curve of a solid granite fortress. “Very quaint,” she said, handing the glasses back to him.

      “That was Dad’s first building here. When I was a kid we used to come here for family vacations and that was it. That little cabin at the base of the Superstitions.”

      Bethany thought she must have misunderstood. “Superstitions?”

      “The mountains—that’s the name of this range. Great, huh?”

      “Perfect,” Bethany replied without enthusiasm.

      “Arizona is full of unique names. That spot where the cabin sits? It’s called Bachelor’s Cove.”

      “So is that where you live these days?”

      Cody looked confused.

      “Bachelor?” she prompted.

      “Got it.”

      “You’ve never married?” she asked, more comfortable now that she’d turned the conversation to focus on him.

      “Nope. Never married.”

      “You’re what—thirty?”

      “Thirty-four.” His response was just to one side of testy. “I wasn’t aware that there was an age limit.”

      She ignored his sarcasm and kept pushing. “You mean a wealthy good-looking guy like you has never even come close? The women must have been lined up at some point.”

      “Close only counts in horseshoes,” he muttered and readjusted his hat before urging Blackhawk a few steps closer to the edge of the bluff.

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