Feels Like Home

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “I’ll leave you both to carry on with the program,” Emmett said. “Holler if you need any help, though.”

  “Thanks, Emmett,” Meg said. “We should be fine.” Giving her horse one last pat, she walked over to Destiny. “Let’s get this guy saddled. I’ll let you do it.”

  “All right.” Rafe put the blanket on the way she had. Then he made sure the stirrups and the leather belt thing were lying on top of the saddle before he swung it up to Destiny’s broad back.

  “Good job. You must have been watching very closely.”

  “I was.” Good thing she didn’t know how closely.

  “Then cinch it up.”

  “With the belt thing?”

  “Yes. It’s called a cinch.”

  “Good to know.” He managed to knock his hat in the dirt while he dealt with the cinch.

  She picked up his hat, dusted it off and hung it on the saddle. “This hat doesn’t have a string to hold it on.”

  “No. Sarah mentioned that.” He grappled with the leather cinch while Destiny stomped his front foot. That startled him, but he soldiered on as if he had no thoughts of that hoof crushing his skull like a melon. “Can horses smell fear?”

  “Why, are you afraid?”

  “No, no. Just wondered.”

  “I’m sure they can tell when someone’s afraid of them. Then they try to take advantage.”

  “They do?” He managed to get the cinch buckled and stood up again. “Like how?”

  “Like not minding you, walking you under a tree branch to scrape you off, things like that.”

  “Good thing I’m not afraid of this horse, then.” And by God he wouldn’t be. He didn’t relish the idea of being knocked off by an overhanging branch. “Now we wait for him to let out air, right?”

  “Right.” Meg gazed at him. “I’m trying to imagine growing up without animals in the house. We had dogs, cats, gerbils, hamsters, you name it. Was someone in your family allergic?”

  “No. We had very expensive furniture and my mother didn’t want it ruined.”

  “Ah.” For a brief moment sympathy flashed in her green eyes. Then she glanced away, as if she knew that he wouldn’t appreciate seeing that emotion coming from her.

  She was right. He didn’t want her sympathy. “It was more of a hardship for Wyatt than for me. I didn’t really feel deprived.”

  “I guess it’s all in what you’re used to.”

  “Exactly. So is it time to tighten the cinch on this hay-burner?”

  She laughed in surprise. “Hay-burner? Where’d you get that, from some old Western?”

  “Probably. It just popped into my head. Hanging out at the old homestead must be affecting my vocabulary.”

  “Next thing you know you’ll be saying things like ‘howdy, partner’ and ‘don’t you fret, little lady.’”

  “God, I hope not. If you hear me start saying dorky things like that, give me a kick, okay?”

  “I will.” She grinned at him. “And I won’t be the only one. Cowboys don’t talk like that in real life.”

  “Do they say ‘hay-burner’?”

  “They might, among themselves.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “But if I were you, I’d avoid that one, too. The Chances are proud of their breeding program and their registered Paints. They might be offended.”

  “Point taken.” He savored the cinnamon scent that wafted from her skin when she was this close. Her mouth looked delicious, and that’s why he had to move back and forget about it. He put distance between them, but forgetting about her pink mouth wasn’t so easy.

  He cleared his throat. “So, is it time to tighten the cinch on this valuable registered Paint?”

  “Yes.” Her green eyes sparkled. “But Destiny isn’t valuable to the horse breeding operation anymore, now that he’s no longer—”

  “In possession of his family jewels?”

  “You noticed?”

  “I’m not that observant. Emmett told me. Damned shame.”

  “It makes him easier to pair up with other horses. Stallions can get touchy with each other, and a mare like Spilled Milk, if she happened to be in season, couldn’t go on a trail ride with a stallion. Things could get complicated.”

  And now he had a visual that was no help in getting his mind off sex. “I hadn’t thought of all that.”

  “Fortunately, Emmett and I did. So cinch him up, and we’ll get started.”

  “Sure thing.” Rafe was able to pull the cinch a couple of notches tighter, and while he did, he thought about the poor horse’s missing sexual equipment. Rafe, however, wasn’t missing any of his, and whenever he looked at Meg, his animal instincts took over.

  He’d been so sure a riding lesson couldn’t possibly become sexual in nature. Less than thirty minutes into the session, it already had.

  4

  MEG WONDERED IF RAFE had been warned not to get too friendly with her. Wyatt might have done that, and although she appreciated his big-brother, protective attitude, she didn’t want him discouraging Rafe. Maybe he hadn’t, but Meg thought someone had issued a word of caution.

  Her attempts to flirt with Rafe would spark an initial response, but then he’d tamp it down. Once they were out on the trail and away from anyone who might overhear, she’d ask him why. Maybe he had his own reasons for putting on the brakes, but she was willing to bet Wyatt was at the bottom of it.

  First things first, though. She had to get him comfortable with riding so he’d agree to take one of the ranch’s many trails. Each one was beautiful, and Meg could hardly wait to show Rafe the wonders he’d been willing to dismiss yesterday.

  When Destiny was saddled, she had Rafe watch her put on Spilled Milk’s bridle. Then she helped him with Destiny’s and explained how the bit worked to control the horse. Finally it was time for Rafe to mount up.

  “You get on from the left side.” She took his hat off the saddle horn and handed it to him. “You’ll want the saddle horn available to hold on to while you swing up.”

  “Got it.” He settled the Stetson on his head and instantly added a yummy factor.

  She hadn’t realized how sexy cowboy hats were until she’d traveled to Wyoming, where it was the headgear of choice. Now she couldn’t imagine men choosing to wear anything else. Put a Stetson on a guy and his hottie quotient shot up a good twenty points.

  Standing by Destiny’s head, she held the horse’s bridle while Rafe shoved his booted foot into the left stirrup and swung his right leg over the saddle with natural grace. Once he conquered his initial nervousness, he’d be great at this. And he rocked the denim look. Watching him mount up, which stretched the material in fascinating places, brought a little shiver of delight.

  “And just like that, you’re on,” she said.

  “So I am.” Gripping the horn with both hands, he shifted in the saddle. “This isn’t too bad.”

  “I need to adjust the stirrups, though. Your legs are longer than the previous rider’s. I don’t want your knees drawn up like a jockey’s.”

  “Shouldn’t I do the adjusting?”

  “It’ll be more efficient if I do it while you’re in the saddle.” She was just the girl to adjust his stirrups, too. Considering how close she’d have to be to his muscled thighs, she wouldn’t delegate this job to anyone. Moving to his left side, she glanced up. “Take your left foot out of the stirrup.”

  He obeyed, and as she lifted the flap of leather to alter the length, she savored the f
lex of muscles beneath the faded jeans. The scent of minty soap, freshly washed denim and pure masculinity swirled around her in a heady combo. She would adjust Rafe’s stirrups any day.

  “Now the other side.” Rounding the back of the horse, she repeated the motion on his right stirrup. “Okay, put your feet in and let’s see.”

  “It feels better.”

  “Looks better, too. Stand up in them so I can see how much clearance you have.” As he did that, she was obliged to gaze at his crotch. Mercy. “Good. You can sit again.” She resisted the urge to fan her face.

  “I didn’t realize there was so much to the fit of the saddle and the stirrups.”

  “You need to be as comfortable as possible.” She didn’t want any of that valuable equipment getting bruised, either. Yowza. With an effort she pulled her mind away from the subject of Rafe’s endowments. “You’ll want to keep your heels down with your weight sinking into them to lower your center of gravity.”

  “Sarah convinced me to wear the boots because she said the heels would keep my feet from slipping through the stirrups. I decided I didn’t want to be dragged to my death, so I went with the boots.”

  “You won’t be dragged to your death, Rafe. I’ll save you before that happens.”

  He smiled at her. “What a relief. I could have worn my loafers, then.”

  “’Fraid not. The leather shank keeps your shins from chafing. Boots aren’t only for impressing women. They serve a purpose.”

  “Women are impressed with boots?”

  “Some are.” She untied Destiny’s reins from the hitching post.

  “Are you?”

  She glanced back at him. “Depends whose feet are in them.”

  He nodded. “Fair enough.”

  “I thought we’d start by making a few circuits of the corral.” She led Destiny over to the gate.

  “Please tell me you’re not going to lead me around like a kid on a pony ride.”

  “Just until I get you inside the corral. After all, it is your first time.”

  “You make me sound like a damned virgin.”

  That made her laugh. “Would you rather we started out with a wild gallop across the meadow?”

  “No, I wouldn’t. But I hope nobody sees this part. It’s embarrassing.”

  “It’ll be over before you know it.” She unlatched the gate, led Destiny inside and latched the gate again. “Ready to take over?”

  “I’m so ready.”

  Knotting the reins, she lifted them over Destiny’s head and handed them to Rafe. “Hold these in your left hand, and keep them fairly loose. You don’t want to pull on his mouth. He neck reins, so when you want him to go left, lay the reins against the right side of his neck, and vice versa.” She stepped back.

  Horse and rider remained stationary as Destiny quietly waited for directions.

  Rafe frowned. “Where’s the gas pedal?”

  She realized he really had no idea how to ride a horse. Most people knew how to get them going at least. “Nudge him in the ribs with your heels.”

  He applied a slight pressure.

  “Harder.”

  When he used more force, Destiny started off.

  “Remember, reins against the right side of his neck to go left, and against the left side to go right.”

  “Got it.” Rafe followed her instructions, and soon he was controlling Destiny’s slow progress around the corral.

  “Bored yet?”

  “Getting there. How do I speed him up?”

  “You nudge him again and click your tongue. But first sink down into your heels, because a trot is—” He was into the trot before she could finish the sentence.

  He bounced uncontrollably in the saddle, lost his stirrups, his hat and his temper. He began to swear.

  She struggled to keep a straight face. “Pull back gently on the reins and say ‘whoa.’”

  He did, and sat there catching his breath. “That was torture. What did I do wrong?”

  She was impressed that he’d ask the question instead of blaming either her or the horse. “You got ahead of me. A trot isn’t an easy gait to master.”

  “No shit.” He climbed down off the horse.

  “Are you giving up?” She couldn’t believe it, but everyone had a different tolerance for frustration.

  “Hell, no, I’m not giving up.” Taking hold of Destiny’s bridle, he started off at a brisk walk. “Gotta get my hat.”

  “Oh.” She smiled to herself. She’d suspected he might have the makings of a cowboy. And sure enough, he did.

  * * *

  AFTER THAT DEBACLE, RAFE listened more carefully to Meg’s instructions, and eventually he began to sense the rhythm of the trot. He still bounced a little, but he didn’t lose his stirrups or his hat, which was progress. Next she taught him to canter around the perimeter of the corral.

  He remembered the term canter from yesterday. When he’d accused her of running straight at him, she’d protested that she was only cantering. Now he understood why riders would want to do that. He could canter all day long.

  “That’s good!” she called out. “I think you’re ready for the outside world.”

  He thought so, too. To his surprise, the corral had started to feel confining. He wouldn’t claim to be a natural at riding, but he’d caught on a lot faster than he’d expected.

  Meg opened the gate. “Wait here by the corral while I get Spilled Milk. Then we’ll be off.” She gazed up at him. “You’re doing great. Really wonderful for your first time. How do you feel?”

  “Terrific.” It was the God’s truth. He’d ridden motorcycles, but this was better, more…real. He liked the view from the back of a horse, the sense of partnership he felt, and the visceral thrill of going fast in tandem with this powerful animal.

  “You’ll be sore tomorrow, but maybe not too bad. I recommend a soak in a hot bath later on.”

  “I’ll do that. You haven’t led me astray so far.”

  “Give me time.” She winked at him and sauntered away.

  What the hell? He stared after her, his brain buzzing with what had obviously been a suggestive remark. And in case he’d been too dense to pick up on it, she’d followed it with a wink.

  Digging his cell phone out of his jeans pocket, he speed-dialed his brother.

  Wyatt answered immediately. “What’s up, bro?”

  “What if Meg has the hots for me?”

  “She does?”

  “I think she might, yeah.”

  Wyatt let out a gusty sigh. “Figures.”

  “Look, I don’t want to cause— Whoops, gotta go. Here she comes.” He disconnected and shoved the phone back in his front pocket. He’d thought of leaving it behind, but the jeans fit tight enough that he wouldn’t lose it, and he was used to having his phone with him at all times.

  Her eyes narrowed as she approached on Spilled Milk. “Keeping up with stock prices?”

  With a sense of shock, he realized that he hadn’t thought of his job once since waking up this morning. Normally he’d have checked the market several times by now. “No. I had to ask Wyatt about something.”

  The disapproval faded from her green eyes. “Best man stuff?”

  “Yeah, kind of.”

  “I know the preparations are important, but could I ask you a big favor?”

  “Sure.”

  “Would you mind turning off your phone during the ride? We have a bright, sunny day to enjoy some gorg
eous scenery. I hate to think of it being interrupted by a cell phone chime.”

  “I can do that.” He took out the phone and noticed there was a text message from Wyatt. He’d read it later. Turning off the power, he tucked the phone away again.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He met her gaze. Her eyes glowed with happy anticipation. She was looking forward to this ride, looking forward to spending time alone with him. Wyatt and Emmett might be worried about a potential involvement, but she seemed to have no such fears.

  He allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to kiss her, and fire licked through his veins. Wyatt had said she was a big girl who made her own choices, and for some reason, she’d chosen a private ride.

  Unless he was mistaken, and he rarely was when it came to a woman’s interest, she was giving him the green light. Only a fool would ignore that kind of opportunity. Rafe’s body warmed to the possibilities as his expectations shifted. He was no fool.

  “I’ll lead because I know the path, but if you have any problems at all, sing out. I’ll keep tabs on you from time to time.”

  He grinned. “To make sure I’m not being dragged to my death?”

  “Yeah, stuff like that. Let’s ride.” Turning Spilled Milk, she started away from the barn at a brisk trot.

  Rafe enjoyed the sight of her ass rising and falling in sync with her horse. Although he was glad she wasn’t babying him, he hoped the entire ride wouldn’t be a trotting marathon. He still bounced. Even with the bouncing, though, he was filled with elation at the prospect of riding out into the open field…and what might follow once they were truly all alone.

  The sun warmed his shoulders and the mountains thrust pristine white peaks into a sky so blue it looked painted on. To think he’d planned to spend the day working. Tightness in his chest that he hadn’t realized was there began to loosen.