Cowboy, Take Me Away. Kathleen Eagle

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СКАЧАТЬ like some Biblical plague. He wanted this sunrise—his sunrise—to reveal nothing but pristine Wyoming.

      But watching the woman sleep was nice, too. He was trying to decide how to wake her—whether to say her name or touch her bare shoulder, maybe her cheek—when she stirred, edging closer, giving faint voice to her soft sigh. He touched his lips briefly to hers and felt the sweet beginnings of a smile. He lifted his head and watched her lashes unveil her eyes, a gradual dawning. The smile vanished momentarily, but then it returned. It was too dark to see it in her eyes, but he knew it was there. He could feel the connection when she recognized him.

      “Are we there yet?” she asked sleepily.

      “No, but we’re here. I promised you sunrise.”

      Her smile broadened as she closed her eyes. “I’ve seen it before.”

      “Not this one.” The horizon was beginning to lighten. He released her seat belt and patted the empty leather space between them. “Come on over,” he whispered, and he drew her under his arm as soon as she gave him the chance. She snuggled against him as though he were her favorite pillow. “Tell me about your mustang,” he said. “How long have you had him?”

      “Three weeks. I’ve managed to halter him, but that’s about all.”

      “What do you want him to do for you?”

      “Take me places.”

      “Where do you want to go?”

      “I haven’t decided. Maybe just down the road.” She tipped her head back without lifting it from his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her smile, and he felt favored and strangely honored by her ease with him. “Isn’t that what you’re doing, cowboy? Goin’ down the road?”

      He nodded. He wasn’t feeling the hell, yeah he would have given with gusto back … when? A few months ago? A year? The rush that came with the ride was still good, but the road between rushes was getting longer. And something else, something that was beginning to wear on him more than sore muscles and aching joints. He wasn’t ready to name it. Naming it would give it power, and he didn’t feel like putting up a fight, not while this woman’s head was resting on his shoulder. Which felt dangerously sweet.

      “Here it comes.” He laid his free hand on the top of the steering wheel and pointed a finger toward a burst of gold spearing through the pinks and purples washing over the jagged horizon. It was a common sight of incomparable beauty. “There it is, Skyler. On the edge of that cloud. I knew I’d seen that color before.” He lifted a curl from her shoulder. “You have the morning sky in your hair.”

      “And you …” She sat up and looked him in the eye, laughing. “No, I won’t say you have a silver tongue.”

      “I won’t say don’t knock it.” He drew her close and she met his kiss fully, paying him back with interest, forcing him to be the reluctant quitter. “Mmm. That was a knockout.”

      “It surely was,” she said dreamily. He liked the sound.

      “And it’s only day one.”

      “Between us we could cause a lot of damage in three days.”

      “Damage,” he said as he touched her hair, “is not my style.”

      She gave him a quick good boy kiss and then turned her attention to the buoyant sun. “It’s beautiful here,” she said. But what he heard was moving right along … “This is the kind of place I want that mustang to take me.”

      “You picked the right trainer, then.” He drew his arm over her head, effectively taking his pillow back. He was still thinking about those kisses. The first one was great. The second one rubbed him the wrong way. He knew what she was thinking.

      Hell, he knew about a lot of things.

      “Are you signed up with the Double D Wild Horse Sanctuary competition?”

      “Mustang Sally’s Makeover Challenge,” she recited. He nodded, giving her pause. “You’re not already in it, are you?”

      “No, but my father is, and my brother was trying to get into it, too.” He shrugged. I’m way ahead of you, lady. “I hear there’s a big prize at stake.”

      A moment passed before she spoke again. “We have a deal, don’t we?” From her tone, the shoe that had changed feet was a little tight. “The clock’s already ticking on it.”

      He was a little surprised. He’d wanted her company, pure and simple, but he could have sworn her side of the deal was born of a whim. He didn’t mind that her whim affected her need for his skill. She had already seen him make a difference with a horse and she’d soon realize there was more where that came from. Maybe there was more to this arrangement than he’d thought. Maybe there was more to this little dance of theirs, and maybe what had felt like a kiss-off was just a sweet little kiss.

      And maybe she was a little more high maintenance than he was used to, but, damn, he wasn’t about to quit now.

      He offered a smile. “Trust me, Skyler, I’m a man of my word.”

      “Trust me, cowboy, trust me is a line with a definite sell-by date.” She raked her fingers through the hair he’d touched tenderly. “It expired for me a long time ago.”

       Don’t ask, Wolf Track.

      “Mike gave me the impression your husband was a good man.”

       That’s asking, you idiot.

      “He was.” She sighed. “He was.”

      “If you don’t wanna go back there, I sure don’t mind moving ahead. It’s a new day.” Right. Good luck with that.

      “The perfect beginning for a three-day event,” she quipped. “You won’t be competing against your family. I just need a little help getting over the first hump.”

      He made the catch, grinning and grateful. “Like I said, I’m your man.”

      “Briefly,” she amended with a straight face, and he acknowledged with a shrug and a smile. “So let’s make the most of it. I took this on thinking a horse is a horse.”

      “Of course.”

      “Of course!” Her laughter sounded girlish, and her eyes glittered in the morning sun like bits of green-and-brown bottle glass. “But he’s a wild horse, and he wanted absolutely no part of that halter.”

      “Yeah, but he wants a part of you,” Trace said as he pulled the pickup keys out of the cup holder and plugged one into the ignition. “So he’ll take the halter, the bit, the saddle, the whole crazy outfit,” he continued as he put the pickup in gear. “Just give him free rein when you hit that next hump, and you’ll go—” he made the jump with his hand, arching from gearshift to steering wheel “—up and over.”

      “Free rein,” she echoed as she turned to him, her enthusiasm mounting as the pickup bumped and rattled over red clay ruts. “I saw a news clip about the competition and how they’re trying to drum up support for the wild-horse sanctuary in South СКАЧАТЬ