“I was so pissed off at Hewett that when he left I lost it. You just happened to come along.”
“Did it really feel that scientific?” He took a step back and studied her eyes. Large and sapphire. Wide and guileless. They reflected uncertainty.
“It’s all science. Biology. Hormones mixed with anger.”
“Fine then,” he teased. “We at least alleviated the anger, right?”
At that her eyes took on a more familiar, wary toughness. “No. The chief only came out here to bait me. That’ll piss me off for a long time.”
David ran his hand inside his waistband, tucking his shirt back into place. “It explains a lot that he’s from Philadelphia.”
“Only that he was probably not a well-liked cop. Antagonism isn’t the way to handle gang problems. Of which he seems to think I’m one.”
“You defused him. You seemed to know just what to say, and yet you didn’t give in to his taunts. I thought about clocking the man.”
“You? I can barely see you hitting a punching bag.”
He placed a hand over his heart. “You wound me, madam.”
She turned away and gave her T-shirt a last adjustment then she swung back to him, her features determined. “Nothing happened here that can’t be explained by overreaction. I made a mistake. You got me at a weak moment. Whatever. Nobody needs to know about this. Please don’t tell Bonnie.”
Bonnie. After only one day of watching and listening, he knew Rio took her role as mother figure overly seriously. She needed to keep track of her sister, true, but Bonnie was more a crutch. For what wound he didn’t quite know.
“That’s unkind,” he said. “Do you really think I would march out of here to kiss and tell?”
She seemed taken aback, as if she’d never considered he would know how to be discreet. What sort of people had stung her to make her so constantly wary?
“I don’t know you,” she said. “But no, I guess I don’t think you would.”
“And I won’t. Ready to go back?”
“Yes.”
On the way to the clearing she stared at the ground, silent with a pinched, serious face like someone who’d witnessed a crime. He stopped her. “Was it that bad?” he asked.
She looked him in the eye. “You know it wasn’t.”
“I do.” He wished he could kiss her again just to feel her body relax against his. To maybe make her smile again. “So don’t look as if you nearly got mauled by a bear, okay? Smile or somebody’s bound to ask.”
She nodded. “You’re right.”
The pop cans were packed away, and the fire had been smothered fully with sand and dirt when Rio led the way back to the others. Nobody looked upset. Dawson still had the younger girls at his beck and call. Jill and Chase looked up from beside the dead fire.
“All’s well?” Chase asked.
“Fine,” Rio said.
“She wrote down the car description and handled Hewett brilliantly.”
Bonnie perked up at that, her eyes bright with hopefulness. “What’d you do? Did you tell him off?”
“She did not,” David said. “We should all learn to talk to authorities like she did.”
“She’s bailed Paul out enough times. She knows how.”
“I’m sorry I got you all into trouble,” Rio replied. “You’d still be able to use this spot if it wasn’t for me, and Bonnie.”
“Hold on, do you think we’ll stop coming here just because of that?” Jill stood with a laugh. In two strides she reached Rio and gave her a hug. “We might be upstanding citizens in our real lives, but in secret we’re all lawbreakers. This has been a spot for horse lovers in the area forever. A new police chief isn’t going to change that. We have friends in low places, as the song goes.”
For the first time since Hewett had shown up, Rio’s face eased into a smile.
“I hope so.”
“We’ll plan our next ride on the way home.” Jill winked.
“Hear, hear,” David agreed, and Rio smiled one more time.
It was the last easy moment between them. On the way home she lost a little of the natural sway to her back that had captivated him earlier. She laughed a bit too easily with everyone but him, and still she radiated dangerous levels of everything that had attracted him from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her: prettiness that sparked at unexpected moments into fiery sexiness, tightly held emotions that burst without warning into showers of delightful humor, a smile that could crack a guarded heart.
He’d made a mistake in kissing her. For a woman who seemed like she might have trust issues, there probably wasn’t a worse thing he could have done. Yet he’d kiss her again in a heartbeat to have her taste on his lips and her sexy, curvy body in his arms.
He had no idea why the kiss had happened in the first place. His mother and sister had raised him with more sensitivity than that. Katherine certainly had taught him more self-control.
Katherine.
He rarely thought of his ex-fiancée anymore. There was no sting after nine years except the tiny but everlasting sense of injustice. She’d been decorum personified—the perfect girl who would have made the perfect wife. According to everybody. But the failure he’d borne home from Iraq had affected everyone, Katherine most of all. The changes in him—the buried emotions, the purposeful non-confrontation that made him, according to her, too passive—had rendered him imperfect husband material. The wedding had been called off. He’d heard she’d married a year later, but he no longer remembered her married last name.
He didn’t regret the path his life had taken, but Rio Montoya certainly was a sudden swerve off the straight and narrow. He’d never regret helping her, but he did regret his rising attraction. He had too many personal storm clouds brewing to let a beautiful woman spike his hormones and distract him. Except the kiss had been amazing.
“Hey, Limey. You sleep-riding?”
David jerked in the saddle at Chase’s voice, surprised to find him riding beside Gomer.
“Sorry, mate. Just planning the chores for tonight.”
The sidelong glance he got was more than skeptical.
“I told Jill I’d ask if you wanted to track down Pete Bosworth at the park headquarters tomorrow sometime. We’d best head off a complaint if we can and make our case about tonight. Got any free time late morning? I have a couple hospital visits first thing, then nothing until afternoon.”
“I’ll make time. Say when.”
“Eleven?”
“Done.”
“Everything all right? Nothing happened with Hewitt back there, did it?”
David waved his hand. “He was a bit of an arse, as he has been all along, but Rio put him in his place quite respectfully. She surprised him, but that’s it.”
“I’ve known her for the last six months.” Chase let his eyes drift to Rio’s red ponytail, hanging from beneath her helmet. “She’s a unique woman. What she’s done to keep her family together the past ten years is nothing short of miraculous. Thanks for helping her out.”
“Of course. It’s no trouble.”
“She seems to like you. You could do worse, my friend.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“I dunno. I have no idea why I said it.” He shrugged, winked, squeezed his calves, and trotted up to find his wife.
A LOT OF “should haves” assailed Rio the next morning when sunlight filtered through the window closest to her bed and fell across her eyes. She flung one arm over her face, but her mind leapt immediately out of sleep. She should have slept until noon after the night of wine, more wine, and two and a half hours spent on a horse. Not to mention the hour and a half afterward learning to feed horses, wipe down tack, and sweep barn aisles. Instead she peeked at the bedside clock and saw exactly what she suspected. 6:30 a.m.
She rolled to one side and groaned. At home she’d loved to sleep in when she could. Bonnie always told her she was a creature of the night, choosing the lunch to dinner shifts at the di
ner, reading late, keeping vigil during the deceptively quiet wee hours.
Well, she should have kept better vigil here. She should have run from David Pitts-Matherson when she’d had the chance—pushed him away decisively and unequivocally before that stupid kiss had been allowed to start.
Only there’d been no warning. One minute she’d been weeping over the stupid police chief, the next she’d been drowning in a musk-and-spice sea. What had she been thinking? She had a strict policy where men were concerned. They were vetted and practically interrogated before she consented to even a first date. The policy had served her well over the years. Guys knew not to mess with her. It was that kind of caution she was trying like mad to instill in her sister, and she was having a tough time of it. Some example she’d been last night. Rio didn’t know David from any other pie-loving customer at the diner. He seemed like a nice guy. He liked her cooking. So what?
When had she made a decision to fall just because? Just because he was kind. Just because he had the sexiest accent she’d ever heard. Just because he could kiss like every fantasy she’d ever had.
She threw off the quilt to stop the internal list-making, and the instant she swung her legs out of bed, the just becauses, the chief of police, even the memory of the kiss all vanished. Because every muscle from her upper abs to the one that moved her pinky toe protested like striking workers on a picket line.
“Jiminy Christmas,” she blurted to the empty room.
She stood and winced. Her legs moved like wooden posts with pain receptors. Tiny little muscles she’d never known existed squeaked at her from her torso. Lumbering around for her clothes, she almost had to laugh. Twenty-six wasn’t old enough to be this affected by a new activity. She was a wimp.
No sound greeted her at the bottom of the stairs, and she assumed she was the first one awake. Her muscles loosened as she padded toward the kitchen. Maybe she’d have enough range of motion to manage a pot of coffee.
“Good morning!”
She jumped. David stood beside the center island, a mug already in his hand. He was back to breeches, this morning’s pair a deep mocha brown, and her thoughts went careening out of bounds. Memory of the errant kiss flooded back at the sight of his thighs and butt so . . . showcased. Any thoughts of English riding pants being unmanly were permanently buried.
“Hi. It’s so quiet I didn’t realize anyone else was up,” she said.
He grinned and pointed across the room. “Actually, you’re the slug-a-bed, I’m afraid. Meet Limpy Lucy over there. She’s been up a fair few minutes now.”
Rio chuckled at the sight of Bonnie seated at the table, her head resting on her folded arms. “Hey, you,” she called. “How goes it?”
“Kill me now.” Bonnie’s muffled words made both Rio and David laugh out loud.
“I told her what’s needed is a bit of the hair of the dog. She needs to come on out and saddle up.”
“Oh God,” Bonnie moaned again.
“I have to agree.” Rio shrugged. “That sounds awful to me, too.”
“Ahh.” He sipped his coffee, and the rich, black aroma eased her pain. “Got you, too, did we?”
“Hah. My toenails hurt.”
His laugh rang through the kitchen. “You a coffee drinker, cowgirl?” He reached for a mug in the cupboard beside him. “Happy to pour you some.”
“Yeah, I learned to drink it working late at the diners. We always had a cup in hand. If nothing else it was a decent weapon to throw if a jerk came by.”
“I’ll be sure and remember that. Anything in it?”
“Milk?”
“Cream?”
“Holy decadence. I’d say no, but I think I worked off enough calories last night to justify it.”
“I like how you think.”
The banter soothed her. His nonchalance calmed the earlier rush of hormones and erased the awkwardness she’d feared.
“Want me to make breakfast?” she asked.
“No, love. You go and sit with your sister. I can handle breakfast. Everything else, bets are off. How about I hire you as our chief cook while you’re here, but I’ll take the mornings.”
“You’ll let me cook to help pay our way?”
“Let you? I’ll beg you to cook.”
“Will you pay me to stay in bed?” Bonnie lifted her head and curled her lip.
“Out West they’d call you greenhorns.” David opened the refrigerator. “Here’s the deal. You two have the next twenty minutes to wake up those city slicker muscles, and then it’s time to see how the real horsemen do it.”
“I thought this was a mansion spa we were coming to.” Bonnie yawned and smiled for the first time. “Can’t I just be a guest at this dude ranch?”
“Hey, even at dude ranch guests head out to gather the cattle. I have no cows, but I have a barn full of cats you can try to herd.”
“That’s supposed to be hard, but if I don’t have to get on a horse to do it, I’ll figure it out,” Bonnie said.
Rio grinned in surprise. When had Bonnie developed that quick sense of humor?
“And you two want to go out and start your own ranch,” David teased. “Well, ladies, welcome to your reality check.”
“I thought he was a nice guy at first,” Rio said.
“Yeah. Me, too.”
The easy chatter lasted through breakfast, and Rio cleared the dishes afterward. Her abs stung when she bent forward. Her inner thighs burned when she squatted to reach the dishwasher soap under the sink. But somehow, after the easiness and teasing between the three of them that was now a two-for-two precedent at mealtime, the pain felt more like a badge of honor.
And David never said a word about the kiss or even hinted he remembered it before he headed out to start his day.
Chapter Eleven
* * *
THE BARN AT 7:15 a.m. was a noisy place. Snorts, stamps, whinnies, bucket rattling, and a few solid wall kicks were Bridge Creek’s equivalent to rush-hour traffic. David kept thirty-seven horses on the place, twenty-six of which were in stalls overnight. He, Rio, and Bonnie were the first humans to arrive, and Fred greeted them as if he hadn’t seen them only hours earlier.
“Andy doesn’t come down to start cleaning stalls until eight,” David said. “I like being the one to feed and let everyone out in the morning. It’s a good time to plan the day, check the horses myself, make sure everyone’s okay.”
“This is a lot of work.” Rio looked at the long row of stalls and the eager faces behind the bars.
“It’s a lifestyle, that’s for bloody certain.”
The matter-of-fact statement rang with resignation, something she’d not heard in his voice before. David the easygoing, the acquiescent, the cheerful breakfast chef suddenly had a stoic resignation in his eye and a grimmer set to his mouth.
For the first time since the kiss, she let herself study the full, artful swell of his lips and the texture of his skin. A single shot of latent desire darted to her core and pulsed there. She knew too well now that those lips could be as talented as those of any bad boy she’d ever met, and as gentle as any touch she’d ever conjured in her fantasies. But until this morning they’d never looked hard. Something subtle had changed his mood between the house and the barn.
He led them to a closed door near the front of the barn and unlatched it. The smell of malt and molasses, and pungent grain wafted from inside. He flipped on a light and pointed to a chest-high box on wheels.
“The magic feed wagon,” he said. “Push it out and every horse in the place is your best friend. And they’ll all tell you so.”
The wagon sported two tip-out bins each filled with grain. Above the bins was a deep drawer filled with plastic separators and a few small buckets of powders.
“Every horse has a card by his or her stall that tells exactly what he gets. Ready for equine nutrition one-oh-one?”
He was a patient, interesting teacher, explaining exactly what each supplement did, why the horse got it, and how to remem
ber what was what. Bonnie studied the feeding process with the same intensity she studied schoolwork. If only she’d taken as much painstaking effort to keeping her social life under control, Rio wished.
Feeding the horses was rhythmic and repetitive, and the sounds of contented snuffling in grain buckets filled Rio with a sense of well-being and accomplishment. Feeding time had another bonus. The barn cats showed up—popping out of hiding spaces like they’d heard an enchanted piper. Six felines—that Rio could count—hopped onto stall doors, twined around ankles, and sniffed at the grain that inevitably fell. David stroked them when they sat within reach and talked to them if they called noisily enough.
“They get fed after we’re done with the horses. They’re trying to hurry us up.”
“Do they ever come into the house?” Bonnie took a break from graining to sit on a hay bale and scoop up a gray-and-black tabby. “Hello, baby.”
“Nope, strictly barn cats. They’re all happier outside. They have food and an ample supply of mice.”
“Living mousetraps. Could have used one myself on occasion.”
At that moment one of the mouse-trappers in question leaped onto the cart, sending Rio back with a surprised squeal. The little mottled cat meowed with much more lung power than should have been possible for its size, and Rio laughed.
“Hello to you, too. You’re a unique little thing.”
“Sort of a smashing cat with that tortoiseshell black-and-orange mix,” David said. “She’s one of an abandoned litter we found just down the road about six months ago. There were five and we found homes for all the others. Thirty-one here never interested anyone. She’s got a pretty devilish personality.”
“Thirty-one?”
“Short for October thirty-one,” he replied. “She looked so Halloween-ish when her coat started to gloss up, and she’s always up to something tricky. Cliché names like Goblin or Spooky were nixed.”
“But a number?”
He shrugged “It stuck.”
The cat was a stunner. The Halloween colors were evenly striated across her body except for solid black around her nose and two funny patches of orange-stripe over her eyes. Rio touched its head, and the half-grown cat lunged, wrapping its front legs around Rio’s hand. As soon as its claws came out, however, they retracted almost immediately, and Thirty-one meowed and pressed her head into Rio’s palm.
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