She exhaled and gave a stiff nod. “As much as I hate to admit it, you’re probably right.”
Instead of pulling ahead of him on her horse so that he could once again follow behind her at a respectable distance, she allowed her horse to remain abreast of his.
“You hate admitting when someone else is right?” Grayson asked then immediately wished he’d kept his mouth shut.
Their roles were already defined and there was no room for crossover. He was the agent and she was the assignment. It wasn’t that he felt he was inferior to her in any way—except maybe financially. Nor did he care about the fact they came from two different social worlds. His job, though, depended on them staying in their roles. Walking along side by side once again made them equals and blurred those boundaries between them.
The military had a rule about fraternization between officers and enlisted personnel and, in Grayson’s mind, this situation was no different. It would certainly be easier for him to do his job if he didn’t have to think of Tessa King as anything other than an assignment.
“I don’t mind someone else being right.” She exhaled and he tried not to stare at the smooth skin along her neck. “I just hate being wrong.”
His mouth twitched. “Are you ever wrong?”
“Only when I told myself that riding this horse would be like riding a bike and that I’d remember what to do as soon as I climbed on. Unfortunately, my thighs and lower back have completely forgotten all the muscle work involved.”
Grayson allowed his eyes to trail down her legs encased in snug denim. “Your muscles seem to be doing just fine.”
He heard the breath hitch in her throat over the sound of the water flowing through the nearby creek. Grounding his back molars in place, he reminded himself of those damn boundaries. She’s a job, not a woman.
The problem was he knew how to talk to a woman. He didn’t know how to make polite conversation with a job.
“I mean, you haven’t fallen yet. Not that you normally fall...” He trailed off when she lifted one eyebrow at him.
“You know, I really don’t go collapsing in front of strangers. Yesterday was a one-off,” she said then proceeded to dismount with more grace than she probably felt.
Don’t look at her rear end, he warned himself as he climbed out of the saddle. But as he used the reins to lead his horse to the creek, his eyes went straight to the curve of her backside.
He cleared his throat and scanned the area for any sort of threat, whether it be a wild animal or a bold trespasser wielding a weapon or, worse, a camera. He radioed in their location and got an update from the command center.
They stood along the bank as their horses drank greedily from the stream. He rubbed his hand along the gray gelding’s back and murmured a few words of appreciation to the poor animal who’d had to carry his awkward two-hundred-pound frame this far.
“Chandler likes you.” Tessa finally broke the silence.
“Who?”
“Chandler Bing. From the TV show. Finn wanted to move to NYC and share an apartment with all her best friends before she decided to become a cowgirl instead. She named these two—” Tessa gestured toward both horses “—along with several others. That’s why their row in the stables is referred to as Central Perk.”
Grayson chuckled, the vibration in his throat feeling unnatural. “My sister is a big Friends fan, too.”
Maybe when this assignment was officially over and debriefed, he’d be able to share that detail with Maddie. She’d appreciate a stable full of horses being named after characters in her TV series.
“Well, I hope your sister rides better than you.” Tessa smirked.
“She used to. Hopefully, she will again.”
“Is she okay?” Tessa asked as her cheeks turned a charming shade of pink. “Sorry. Asking personal questions is a habit from work.”
Grayson could count on one hand the number of agents and military buddies who knew about his sister’s condition. Maddie had hated all the pitying looks and curious stares she’d gotten when their mother or Grayson would have to push her custom-made wheelchair on her bad days. So his way of protecting her was to pretend that there was nothing wrong in front of outsiders.
Yet the concern on Tessa’s face was sincere and, after all, Grayson had brought up the subject of his sister.
“She has a rare type of muscular dystrophy. When we were younger, our family went to this camp where kids with special needs got to ride therapy horses. The place was called Let’s Ride and that was their motto. The first time they put her up on that great big horse, I immediately demanded that they get her off. She’s always been tiny and her muscles are easily weakened. I didn’t think she could handle such a huge animal. But she took to it like that—” Grayson snapped his fingers. “Maddie was doing the jump course by the end of the week.”
“And what about you? Did you do the jump course?”
“No way. The only reason I got on the horse was so that I could trail behind her and pull her to safety if something happened.”
“Of course. A born rescuer. Did anything ever happen?”
“Not that week.” His pointed look conveyed his belief that nothing was going to happen this week, either. At least, not on his watch.
“So did Maddie get her own horse when you guys got home from camp?”
“We lived in a duplex in a subdivision outside of Baltimore at the time. So even if we could’ve afforded one, there wouldn’t have been anywhere to keep it. Or ride it.”
“Where does Maddie live now?” Tessa asked. “Maybe there’s a nearby equestrian program where she could take riding lessons or at least visit the horses?”
“I found a horse farm an hour away from their apartment in Baltimore. It’s supposed to be for children with special needs, but they made an exception for Maddie because she looks like she’s twelve years old. She’d be so pissed if she knew that because she hates being mistaken for a kid. Anyway, she used to ride whenever she was wasn’t suffering from contractures.” And when Grayson could send some extra money home to pay for the lessons. “She’s having surgery this afternoon to get a steel rod implanted along her spine. It’s not a guaranteed procedure, but if it works, she’ll regain some of her mobility and might be able to ride again.”
Tessa studied him for several moments and he waited for the questions that were sure to follow. But all she said was, “Your face softens when you talk about your sister. Actually, it softens when you talk, period.”
Grayson’s only response was to scan the horizon and keep his mouth clamped shut. It’d been easier to do his job when they weren’t talking and she wasn’t noticing how soft or not his face was.
When the horses finished drinking their fill, Tessa led Phoebe up the bank and toward an old wooden post that might’ve been part of a fence at one point. Apparently they weren’t heading back to the stables anytime soon.
She must’ve read his mind because she offered, “I just need to stretch out a few more minutes before I get back in the saddle.”
She looped the reins around the post and then did some yoga-style poses. Man, this woman was flexible. She lifted her arms over her head before slowly bending to touch the grass below her boots.
Grayson’s throat tightened and he averted his gaze, staring at the icy cold water rippling over the rocks as it flowed down the creek. Was it deep enough for him to fully submerge his head? It was either that or be tempted by the view of her thighs as she lunged deeply, her hips dipping low.
He heard Agent Lopez speak into the radio at the same time he heard the familiar whirl of helicopter blades. Grayson’s adrenaline kicked in and he hooked his arm around Tessa’s waist and yanked her against his side, immediately rushing her toward the closest oak tree, where the thicker branches provided them better cover.
Tessa wrapped her arm around Grayson’s waist as she huddled behi
nd him. He had a feeling it was instinctive, but it threw him right back into his role of protector.
He remained planted in front of her as he walked both of them backward so that she was positioned between him and the thick tree trunk. Placing two of his fingers on his earpiece, he copied the radio exchange then relayed the information to Tessa.
“There’s an unidentified helicopter circling the property. No station logo or anything else to identify it from their vantage point. It’s currently staying above a thousand feet and isn’t showing any sign of landing. Do you know if anyone in your family is expecting a visitor?”
Tessa poked her head around his shoulder. “Not that I know of.”
Chandler snorted at something in the sky and then stomped his front foot. The sound of the helicopter grew louder and the horse took off for parts unknown.
Damn.
Of course Grayson’s first instinct had been to get Tessa to safety before securing the horse. He was a special agent, not a cowboy. Thankfully, Tessa had tied Phoebe to that post. But the mare tugged against her reins, whinnying as though she was about to run off with her stable mate.
“Stay here,” he commanded Tessa before approaching Phoebe with both arms outstretched in what he hoped was a calmness that defied his current adrenaline level. When he reached the loose knot in the reins, the mare used her nose to shake her head away from him. He’d prefer to bring the horse under the tree, but he didn’t want to risk her fighting him and taking off after Chandler.
“It’s okay, girl,” Tessa said, coming around his shoulder, blatantly ignoring his instructions to stay put. “I’ll hold her bridle. You retie her.”
The helicopter passed overhead just as he got the reins secured tighter. They sprinted toward the overhanging branches together, but not before he spotted a logo on the green paint. Buster Chop’s Chopper Rentals.
Grayson spoke into his mouthpiece, advising the team of the logo and the tail number identifying the aircraft’s registration. “A large oak tree is currently providing us with suitable visual coverage for now, and I don’t believe our position has been compromised yet.”
“Copy that,” Lopez replied in his ear. “Be advised local air traffic control hasn’t authorized any aircraft to be in our no-fly zone and the unsub is not responding to attempts at radio contact. Intercepting authorities are en route and should be on scene in two clicks.”
“I’ve got a visual of the unsub from the eastern trailhead,” Doherty added. “Appears to be a telephoto lens aimed out the open hatch of the aircraft. Maintain your current position.”
“10-4,” Grayson said and exhaled, somewhat relieved that it wasn’t something more deadly aimed out the open hatch. Tessa lifted questioning eyes to his face and he told her, “They think it’s a photographer. But it keeps circling the area above us, so something must be giving our position away.”
“It’s probably a scared horse running around with an empty saddle.” Tessa pointed to a field in the distance where Chandler was anxiously galloping in circles. “Poor guy was probably heading back to the stables, but the helicopter followed him and now he’s just racing in a loop. I need to go get him.”
“Negative.” Grayson moved in front of her again and reached behind both their backs to press her against him before she could inch forward. The helicopter dipped lower, making the leaves above their heads rustle each time it dropped down. “We need to stay in position. If the horse is scared, he won’t come to you anyway.”
“I can’t just hide under here,” Tessa protested.
Grayson wanted to argue with her, but he knew the exact feeling. He hated hiding when he could be doing something way more proactive to protect her.
The sound of an approaching aircraft—make that two approaching aircrafts—drowned out all other arguments.
“Are those fighter jets?” Tessa peeked around his back to scan the horizon. “So much for pretending like my being at Twin Kings is no big deal.”
Even though he knew she was only echoing his own words from the earlier briefing, they still had to follow standard protocol any time their team was actively deployed. “Several military jets are on standby at the nearby airfield. A couple of them were dispatched to remind Buster Chops up there that this is a no-fly zone.”
The helicopter must’ve taken the hint because after several seconds, the roaring engines and blades above trailed off until they no longer could be heard.
Grayson’s hand was still on the back of Tessa’s waist. He loosened his grip, but she didn’t immediately pull away.
“The helicopter is bugging out,” he said into the radio before running his palm along her lower spine in what he hoped was a soothing motion. Unfortunately, the feel of her breasts still pressed against his back didn’t soothe him. He cleared his throat and then took a couple of steps before shifting to face her. “We should be getting the all-clear any minute and then we can return to the stables.”
She turned her eyes up to his and, instead of seeing fear or even annoyance reflected at him, they held a tinge of amusement.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Unfortunately, there are two of us and now we only have one horse.”
* * *
Tessa took pity on Grayson and walked alongside her mare instead of hopping back in the saddle and making a mad dash for the stables. After all, she should have waited for one of the agents to accompany her on the ride in the first place.
Not that she’d needed anyone’s protection from the big bad cameraman hanging out of the helicopter. She did just fine dodging paparazzi back in DC, mostly by pretending that they didn’t even exist. However, the Secret Service agency had a job to do—no matter how much Tessa resented their intrusion or Grayson Wyatt’s high-handedness.
By disrupting their protocol and leaving without her protective detail, she could’ve caused a lot more work and worry for the team tasked to locate her after realizing she was gone. These men and women were putting their lives in danger to protect her and her family, and taking off like that without a thought of the added workload they’d face was selfish on her part.
Although, to be fair, she hadn’t really gone very far.
“Did you know that we’d been riding in circles when you followed me earlier?” she asked the man walking beside her.
Grayson gave a stiff nod, his boots steadily keeping her slower pace even though she had a feeling he could run to the stables and back before she made it another mile. He didn’t seem nearly as exhausted as she felt. In fact, with his shoulders squared off and his head on a swivel, he looked as though he was on a mission and wasn’t going to rest until he’d accomplished his goal.
“Why didn’t you say anything, then?”
“Wasn’t my place,” he said, causing a wave of shame to wash through Tessa. Just because she hadn’t wanted him there didn’t mean she thought of him as the hired help—someone under her authority who should be seen and not heard.
What happened to that guy a couple of hours ago who’d been talking about his sister and her specialized riding program? Grayson had almost seemed like a real person such a short time ago. But then the helicopter showed up and he’d gone right back into special agent mode. Devoid of expression or even emotion.
Not that a simple conversation earlier meant they were suddenly best friends or anything. Just like the heated looks he’d given her in the briefing room this morning didn’t mean that he was attracted to her. An unexpected warmth rose along the back of her neck at the memory and she resisted the urge to lift her hair and fan herself.
Instead, Tessa pulled an insulated bottle from her saddlebag and took a long drink, hoping the cool water would lessen some of the heat coursing through her on this unusually sunny January day.
Normally, she was in command of a situation. In fact, two years ago she’d won the Walter Cronkite Award for Excellence in Television Pol
itical Journalism because she hadn’t backed down during her interview with one of the most powerful dictators in the world.
It was like playing a game of chess. Getting the other person talking about themselves was key to them letting down their guard. Once their defenses were lowered, Tessa could usually steer them in the direction she needed them to go.
Not that she needed to steer Grayson into some sort of news-breaking headline. But if she could get him talking—or otherwise acting like a normal human being and not a robotic bodyguard—Tessa wouldn’t feel as though she required his protection. Or anyone’s protection, for that matter. Even if she couldn’t take charge of the situation, the least she could do was put them on some sort of level playing field.
“Do you know that most fish and birds use sun compass orientation to migrate to the same breeding ground years later?” She offered him her bottle of water.
“Was that what you were you looking for today, Miss King? A particular breeding ground?” Grayson asked as he took the bottle. Tessa immediately averted her eyes so that she wouldn’t see his lips on the exact same spot where her mouth had been seconds ago. Unfortunately, her eyes landed on his neck and she was so transfixed on watching his throat muscles move that she tripped on a rock.
“My point is that I used to know these trails like the back of my hand. But now, everything about this place seems so different.”
“Well, you’ve been under a lot of stress with your father’s passing and your, uh, family...” He took a deep breath before wisely letting that sentence trail off.
“Drama?” she offered.
“I was going to say ‘dynamics.’” He smiled and Tessa’s knees grew so wobbly she would’ve for sure gone down if there’d been another rock in her path. If the press had captured Grayson Wyatt’s sly grin, the pictures from the day of the funeral would have been captioned a lot more graphically than “Agent Steamy.”
What Happens at the Ranch... Page 8