“It’s. not like we’re afraid or anything,” Eric said softly.
A long silence stretched across the loft.
“Well,” Eric said. “Maybe I’m a little bit afraid. They’re awfully big dumb animals, you know?”
“Awful big,” Tucker confirmed. “But I’m not afraid.”
“No? Good for you. Damn things scare the hell out of me.”
Another silence, shorter this time.
“They do?” the younger voice asked, with a hint of awe.
Mariah was catching on to Eric’s game. She crossed her fingers that it would work.
“So if you’re afraid of horses, what are you doing on a horse ranch?”
Darn, Mariah thought. So close. She hadn’t realized Tucker was afraid of horses. How could she have missed that? She’d just thought he was shy. Eric had seen something different, though, obviously.
“There are lots of things on this ranch besides horses.”
“Like what?” The little bit of curiosity in Tucker’s voice held more interest than he’d expressed in all his visits to the Double M.
“Like...”
Oh, come on, Eric. You’ve almost got him.
“Like Ms. Morgan?” Tucker supplied.
Uh-oh.
“How old are you, kid?” Eric asked sarcastically. Mariah pressed her fingers to her lips to suppress a laugh.
“Twelve.”
“Well if you’re twelve, how come you aren’t out there doing some watching of your own? I saw some pretty cute girls get off of that bus.”
“Because—”
“Well?”
Tucker sucked in his deep breath. “Because those things scare the hell out of me, too. And I don’t want to look like a jerk in front of the girls,” he said miserably.
“You’ve got it made, then!”
“Huh?”
“All you have to do is get out there and look scared to death.”
“How do you figure?”
Mariah couldn’t see Tucker, but she could hear the confusion in his voice.
“Girls love it when they can do something you can’t, especially when they think you’re afraid. Trust me, all you have to do is sit there and look petrified. They’ll be all over you.”
“You think so?”
“I know so. Come on, let’s give it a try.”
Mariah backed down the ladder silently as the boys scuffled around in the loft. By the time they reached the bottom of the ladder, she was across the barn, busying herself with a bridle.
“Uh, Ms. Morgan?” Tucker asked. “Do you, um, do you think I could ride today?”
Mariah turned and tried to look at least a little surprised. “Sure, Tuck. I’ve got just the horse for you.”
She quickly tacked up Honey Bear, her quietest mount, and gave Tucker the reins to lead the mare out of the barn. When she lingered behind, Eric stepped up beside her. She looked up at him and crooked up one corner of her mouth. “Girls love it when they can do something you can’t, huh? Especially when they think you’re afraid?”
“You heard?”
“Couldn’t you think of anything better than that? Next you’ll have him winking at women in the grocery store and pinching waitresses. You’re teaching the boy to be sexist.”
“I’m teaching the boy that it’s better to be outside with the others than up in a hayloft by himself.”
“Touché.”
She hurried to catch up with Tucker and get him mounted. Over her shoulder, she mouthed to Eric, “Thank you.”
He winked.
Pig, she thought. Sweet, kindhearted sexy pig.
Frowning at the late-morning sun sitting atop the peak of the mountain, Mariah tied her saddle mare, Penny, to the fence next to Honey Bear. She had a long ride in front of her; she’d really hoped to get away earlier. But the children had been unusually zealous about this morning’s riding lesson. She hadn’t been able to resist when they’d begged for one more horseback egg-and-spoon race, especially since Tucker’s had been one of the eager faces begging. Once he’d actually sat on a horse, he’d overcome his fear quickly.
Her mind lingered on Eric—how wonderful he’d been to Tucker, not belittling the boy’s fear. Talking to him man-to-man—even if he did use swear words to do it—had made all the difference to Tucker. The boy just needed a strong male presence.
Mariah sighed. Sometimes she thought she needed a strong male presence, too.
Loading the last of the supplies, she turned and found her nose inches from Eric’s khaki-T-shirt-clad chest. She took a quick step back, her heart skipping a beat. “I wish you’d quit doing that.”
“Quit doing what?”
“Sneaking up on me.”
“Who’s sneaking?”
“You are.”
“Am not. What’s got you so nervous?”
“Besides you?”
“Very funny. I can’t help if you get so absorbed in what you’re thinking that you don’t hear me coming.”
She felt a faint blush rising. Luckily, he had no way of knowing exactly what she had been thinking about. “At least you could make some noise or something,” she said.
“What do you want to do, hang a cow’s bell around my neck?”
“Don’t tempt me.” She walked to the barn for a few more supplies. “Are you ready to ride?”
“Ride?”
When she returned, she stuffed a first-aid kit, water bottles, a couple of apples and a candy bar into Penny’s bulging saddlebags while Eric eyed the horses suspiciously.
“You don’t mean we’re going to ride horses?” he asked. “All the way up the mountain?”
“How else do you think we’re going to get there?”
“How about—” he waved his hand toward Bessie, parked up near the house “—Butch over there?”
“Butch! You call my truck Butch?”
Eric shook his head, looking at the pickup parked up by the house. “It’s a lot more fitting than ‘Bessie,’”
“Well, Butch or Bessie, she’s hardly an all-terrain vehicle. She wouldn’t get half a mile before we’d be on foot.”
“There aren’t any roads up there?”
“Not as high as we’re going. The only way to get around is on foot or horseback.”
His expression darkened. “Or motorcycle.”
Her pulse sagged as she thought of Mike. “Yes, or motorcycle.”
“How far is this Fannin’s Run from where I got into trouble?”
“From what you told me about where you were, a mile, maybe more. We could go by and check it out.”
His head snapped up, his gaze sharp. “No.”
“Don’t you want to get the bike you left behind?”
“It’s totaled. And you are not going anywhere near there, you hear me?”
Mariah clucked and turned away. “Yes sir, commandant.”
Manah untied the buttermilk mare with black legs, mane and tail and hindquarters so broad she’d have to hang a wide-load sign on her tail to be legal on the highway, and held the reins out to Eric. Honey Bear would be the perfect mount for him; the mare was big enough to not be bothered by the man’s bulk, surefooted as a mountain goat and stupid as a toad. She’d take care of the city boy. “Now if you want to get to Fannin’s Run and back before dusk we’d better go.” He took the reins, but he didn’t look happy about it.
“She’s not a Porsche,” Mariah warned, anyway, “so don’t try anything fancy. Just point her head at my horse’s tail and let her follow.”
Mariah untied Penny and swung up into the saddle, then looked expectantly at Eric. He hadn’t moved.
“You’re not riding Jet?”
“Jet is not a packhorse. Or half mountain goat, like these two. He’s an athlete, built for speed and agility.”
Eric looked blank.
“Strictly blue-chip stock,” she explained in what she hoped were corporate big-shot terms. She nodded toward Honey Bear. “Now, mount up and let’s get going. We’re burning d
aylight.”
He still didn’t move. Suddenly she remembered his words to Tucker, “they scare the hell out of me,” and wondered if there had been some truth in what he’d said.
“What’s the matter, is the big, bad marketing executive afraid to ride a little ole horse?”
“I just don’t think this is a good idea.”
She almost felt sorry for him. “Climb on. Honey won’t hurt you. Besides, you did all right on Jet.”
He tipped his head a fraction and the corners of his lips might have twitched. “Yeah, but on Jet I had you to hold on to.”
For a moment, she remembered the sensation of being in the saddle with him, their bodies rocking tightly together with the motion of the horse. And for a moment, she thought she saw him remember, too.
“Look, it’s easy,” she said, pushing the distracting memories from her mind. She gave him a quick tutorial: go, stop, left turn, right turn, back up. “Now, are you ready?”
“No. I told you this is too dangerous.”
“Do you want to know what happened to Mike or not?”
It was a low blow and she knew it. The pain reflected in his eyes at every mention of his brother’s name told her how much he wanted to know.
“Not badly enough to risk your life for it.”
His admission took the breath from her. A damp well of emotion clogged her throat, pushed at the backs of her eyes. She’d been alone so long. Having someone look out for her felt foreign. If she had nothing else when this was over, she’d treasure that gift, that moment. But she wasn’t willing to give up her truth just to play it safe.
“Fine, then,” she said. “You wait here. I’ll go on my own.”
He exploded behind her. “Like hell you will.”
She spun Penny around to find him marching toward her, tugging Honey’s reins along behind. She lifted her reins and squeezed, and Penny backed smoothly away from him. Penny was a nimble mare and well trained. He’d never catch her on foot.
He let go of Honey Bear and charged. Mariah pushed one calf against Penny’s side, cueing the mare to spin over her hindquarters and gallop off.
“Don’t do this, Mariah.”
In less than a minute she heard Honey’s hooves clip-clopping behind her. When she looked over her shoulder, her mouth fell open. She reined Penny to a stop.
“You know how to ride,” she accused as Eric drew alongside.
He grinned. “My grandmother had a farm when I was a kid. I spent a few summers there.” He shrugged. “She usually kept an old nag around.”
“And here I thought you were from a long line of city boys.”
“No. When I was a kid I spent most summers pushing a plow.”
“Pushing a plow?”
“Okay, driving a tractor with a plow.”
“But you didn’t grow up to be a farmer.”
He sighed. “I thought about it once or twice, taking over the farm so my grandparents could quit busting their knuckles in the dirt, but...”
“What?”
He paused, then grinned slyly. “That old tractor just wasn’t fast enough for me. I wanted a Porsche.”
She saw through his grin, to the truth. “Was it your lust for speed that kept you away, or that you had to support your mother and Mike?”
“Does it really matter?”
Her heart rate doubled. Yes, it mattered One answer would crush her belief about who he really was, who she wanted him to be, and the other answer would raise her hopes for something she could never have. Either way, she lost. “No,” she finally answered, “I guess it doesn’t.”
He nodded.
“So why did you let me instruct you like a beginner,” she asked as they rode on.
“I needed the refresher. It’s been years since I’ve ridden. Besides...” His grin widened to a daunting smile. The kind of smile that set off a small fireworks display in her belly. “Girls like it when they know how to do something you don’t...” he concluded.
“Especially when they think you’re afraid,” she said, finishing for him. Her cheeks heated, Mariah trotted Penny faster. Hearing the even beat of Honey Bear’s extended trot keeping pace behind her, she nudged Penny up to an easy canter. Honey lumbered alongside.
“How do you make that look so easy?” Eric asked, studying her as he rode, obviously trying to imitate her moves. A sharp breath punctuated each word, in time with Honey Bear’s stride, like a child talking through the hiccups.
Grudgingly, Mariah looked at Eric. He rode a bit awkwardly, but with none of the clumsiness of a true novice. In fact, he looked like he might make a pretty good horseman with a little practice.
“Just sit back, let your body relax.”
“Relax. Right. I barely have control of this thing as it is.”
One of his hands bobbed, holding the reins, while the other held his ribs. Her grin fell. She hadn’t thought about how Honey’s jarring gait would pummel his ribs.
She pulled Penny to a stop. “It’s not about control,” she told him as Honey came to a halt beside her. “It’s about balance and rhythm.”
“Right.” Still struggling for his breath, he didn’t look convinced. “Balance and rhythm.”
She noticed Maggie following them, and sent her home with a whistle and a pointed hand. The dog slunk away, obviously offended, with her ears and tail clamped tight to her body. Then Mariah turned and walked Penny off, hoping the slower pace would be less bothersome to Eric’s ribs. “When you need a rest break, just yell.”
He tensed. “Rest breaks are what got me into trouble before. I had stopped for water when those goons in black jumped me. A couple of hours each way we can make without rest breaks.”
Mariah smiled to herself. She’d seen many a man unaccustomed to riding beg for mercy after less than a couple of hours. “We’ll see.”
As he rode alongside, his seriousness broke. “You aren’t really going to make me ride a horse named Honey Bear all day, are you?”
“What’s wrong with riding a horse named Honey Bear?”
“It insults my masculinity.”
She took a deep breath, relaxing at the banter becoming so achingly familiar. He seemed to know just when she needed it and just when to quit. Well, maybe not always when to quit.
“You can call her Butch if it makes you feel better, but I wouldn’t advise it,” Mariah said.
“Why not?”
“Because she outweighs you by about a thousand pounds. If you hurt her feelings, she might stomp you until there’s nothing left but a mud puddle and a memory.”
He laughed, moving easily in the saddle now despite his sore ribs. “Don’t worry about Honey and me. We’ll get along just fine.”
“What makes you so sure?”
Leaning forward, he scratched the mare’s furry shoulder. When Honey stretched her neck out and grunted in obvious appreciation, Eric grinned at Mariah. “I have a way with women.”
That he did, Mariah admitted to herself as she rode out. That he certainly did.
“Are you ready or not?” she asked, doing her best to sound annoyed.
“You’re sure you want to do this?” he asked, his eyes suddenly serious. The way he studied her started her abdomen buzzing as if a colony of bees had taken up residence.
“I’m sure,” she said. “Besides, the fresh air will do you good.”
Before she realized what he was doing, Eric leaned over and pulled the scrunchy from her ponytail. His fingers tangled in her hair for a second, and the contact scorched her inside and out. When his hand came free, she automatically shook her hair loose and felt it flutter around her shoulders.
He looked intrigued by the action, his eyes hot and interested. “Now the fresh air will do me good.”
Then he rode off.
Mariah sat frozen in place, her inability to move not caused by what he’d done, but by what she’d almost done. For an instant, she’d wanted to capture the hand tangled in her hair and lift it to her face. She’d wanted to lay her cheek
in his palm and inhale his clean scent, absorb the strength in his thick fingers. The desire had only lasted an instant, a speck of time between breaths, yet it had been long enough to make her wonder what it would be like to have the kind of life she’d denied herself for so long—one full of laughter and love. He made her wonder what it would be like to have him. All of him.
As if, she chided herself, glancing over her shoulder at his handsome face as she caught up to him.
Some things, Manah Morgan would never know.
Chapter 8
Two hours into the ride, Eric realized Mariah had been right about the rest stops. The muscles in his lower legs had reached the consistency of jelly half an hour ago and deteriorated rapidly from there. Thankfully, she pulled her horse to a stop and dismounted before he had to grovel.
“It’s pretty here,” he said, looking around the clearing.
Flat-topped boulders were sprinkled haphazardly in ankle-deep grass like pennies in a fountain. To the west and south, the meadow fell off into the gentle slope they’d climbed to get there. A stand of scraggly pines and firs lined the east rim, and to the north, the mountain rose sharply in a treacherous-looking rocky incline.
Mariah dismounted and tied her horse to a low limb on one of the sturdier trees. Eric tried to imitate the graceful way she swung her leg over the saddle and bounced lightly on her toes when she landed. He failed. His legs hit the ground like two stumps, then wobbled. He closed his eyes, bracing himself against the saddle and thinking that just maybe, if he was lucky, Mariah hadn’t been watching.
He heard her giggle. Sighing, he gave up once and for all on the concept of luck.
Feeling like he had a barrel between his legs, he hobbled over to a boulder and lowered himself gingerly to it. Mariah tossed him a bottle of water, an apple and a smile.
She really seemed to be enjoying this. “How are your ribs?”
“Wonderful, compared to the rest of me.”
“Mmm,” she said, swallowing a bite of apple. “More liniment for you tonight.”
He wrinkled his nose, his eyes watering at the mere memory of the evil potion. “No thanks, I’d rather be crippled than smell like that again.”
Mariah ambled to a boulder a few feet away. Eric caught her attention and waved her to the rock next to him. “Stick close.”
Virgin without a Memory Page 11
