Lone Star Survivor. Colleen Thompson

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СКАЧАТЬ you’ve ridden before? I see you’ve got the boots for it.”

      Her cheeks reddened. “Well, actually, Jessie was nice enough to lend me these. Turns out we wear the same shoe size. And she’s tied up doing some research for a story she’s been working on, so she told me I could take her horse, too. Um, Princess, I think her name is?”

      He felt a tug at the corner of his mouth. “My five-year-old niece named her, which means she could’ve done a lot worse, considering that Eden calls the barn cat Fizzy Fuzzbutt.”

      “So you do still smile,” Andrea said. “In a nice way, I mean. Haven’t seen that for a long while.” Emotion rippled through her words, real emotion as the mask of compassionate professionalism slipped a little. “I’ve really missed that, Ian. Missed the man I knew.”

      “That man’s gone forever.”

      She nodded, her eyes somber. “You’re right, I’m afraid. Experience changes people. Even experiences you’re not ready to remember.”

      “I’m ready. More than ready. I just— It’s gone, no matter what I do. No matter how hard I try.” He shook his head, his sore fist curling—the same fist that had punched through the wall of his bedroom in frustration. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

      “I don’t think anyone has all the answers. In a lot of ways the mind’s still the same uncharted wilderness it was in Freud’s day. But I may have a few insights for you...if you’d like to hear them.”

      His knee-jerk reaction was to shut her down, to say hell, no. But something in the way she’d looked at him in that single, honest moment had touched off a yearning to see more of the real Andrea, the same woman who still lived in his dreams.

      Besides that, he was getting sick of himself, of the way he had been acting. And if she knew something that might change that...would it really hurt so much to try?

      He reached out for the coffee, their fingers brushing as he took it. Her skin felt so soft and tender beneath his calluses. So warm.

      Taking a sip of the dark brew, he was relieved to find it black and bitter.

      When he murmured his thanks, she shrugged. “I remembered how you took it.”

      “As opposed to yours...right?” he asked, as an image of her pouring cream into a porcelain mug came out of nowhere. She’d been wearing a loose white robe, her hair a jumble around her shoulders. Her lips were puffy and her smile warm, her eyes misted with a contentment that told him they’d just made love that morning.

      A sense of loss sent a pang through the hollow of his chest. Of all the people the government could have sent to see him—and he felt sure they were behind this, somehow—why did they have to torture him with her?

      “You’re right,” she confirmed, smiling sheepishly. “Two sugars and real cream whenever I can get it. I still eat pretty healthy, but I’m hopeless on that front.”

      “I’ll saddle your horse, Andie—”

      “Please, call me Andrea. All right?”

      Ignoring her, he finished. “If you’ll agree to wear a riding helmet. Horses can be dangerous enough when a person knows her way around ’em.”

      “So if I agree, you’ll take me?”

      “Only because I want to get my brother off my back about it. Well, that and to see how you walk tomorrow morning.” Ian smiled, figuring it would be no hardship to watch the sway of her hips under any circumstances.

      She winced and said, “Oh, boy. I haven’t ridden very much, but I do remember that part.”

      “It only lasts a few days. Then you’ll get used to it. Or die.”

      “You are teasing about that last part. Aren’t you?”

      He snorted. “Right. You’ll only feel like dying.”

      He left her with a smile and went to retrieve Jessie’s mare.

       Chapter 3

      The pinto was pretty enough to lead a parade, with bold black patches over brilliant white and a full and flowing mane and tail. But she seemed to have a mind of her own, a quality she demonstrated when Andrea tried to hold her back after she had mounted.

      “You don’t need to haul on the reins like that,” Ian told Andrea, amusement written on his face. His own mount’s golden hide gleamed in the early-morning sunlight, the well-muscled animal as handsome as his rider. “Her mouth is sensitive.”

      “Oh, am I hurting her? Should I— What do I do to keep her from running off with me?”

      “Loosen your fingers, for starters, and grip her body with your knees, not your hands.”

      Embarrassed to be caught holding on to the saddle horn, she gave the reins a few inches of slack. But inside, her muscles quivered, ready to bail if Princess took a notion to gallop away.

      Instead, the pinto exhaled, sounding more relieved than about to race away, and Andrea found the courage to tuck an irksome stray lock back up beneath the riding helmet and out of her eyes.

      “That’s a little better,” said Ian. “Now breathe deeply, from way down in the bottom of your belly. And ease up on the reins a little more. Like that, yes. Now move them both to one hand. All you’ll need to do is lay the reins on her neck, to the right to turn right, to the left for left, just like I’m doing here. See?”

      She was grateful when he demonstrated, his amusement giving way to patience as he took her through the nudges, clicks and reining that he claimed would be enough to get her started.

      As he expertly guided his mount and closed the paddock gate behind them, he eyed her critically. “We’ll still have to work on your seat.”

      “I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.” Her breath caught as she reminded herself that the light teasing, the innuendo, was no longer appropriate between them.

      When he laughed, though, she decided it was worth it. Worth easing her professional demeanor to help him relax around her.

      “Hardly,” he answered as they headed for the range, riding side by side, “but mostly because the only girls I see around here are married, five years old or my mother.”

      “What about Miss Althea? And there must be maids, I’m guessing?” Judging from the size of the house, it would take a team to clean it.

      “Miss Althea’d crack me upside the head with a wooden spoon if she ever caught wind I was thinking about her or the maids’ seats. And you’re the first visitor we’ve had staying here since...” The spark in his blue eyes dimmed. “Since I...”

      “Since you’ve been back?” she prompted.

      She saw his throat work as he swallowed, caught his haunted look as he nodded in answer.

      They rode in silence for a while, the creaking СКАЧАТЬ