by Hope Navarre
He cursed the sweltering heat, his worthless horse and the rough ground littered with rocks that hid in the long dry grass and tried to trip him as he made his way toward the canyon and the promise of relief from the relentless sun. He was almost to the rim when he stumbled and fell to his hands and knees.
A grunt of agony escaped him. Pain lanced through his ribs, and he struggled to catch his breath. When he did, he let loose a string of swearwords that would have singed the ears off a sailor.
In the silence that followed, he heard hoofbeats. A moment later, a horse and rider clambered up out of the canyon in front of him.
“From the sounds of it, I’d say you aren’t dead, at least.”
Neal hung his head. Thankfully, someone had found him, but why did it have to be Robyn?
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, reining her horse to a stop beside him.
He stared at the ground between his hands and wished with all his heart that she had discovered him while he was still on his feet.
“Would you believe I lost a contact?” He pushed up and sat back on his heels with his hands braced on his thighs. “I guess it doesn’t matter, it was the left one.”
He peered at her face. His brother’s gaze would have slid away from his eye patch. His mother would have grown tight-lipped and told him not to joke about it. But not Robyn. She struggled to keep a smile off her face and lost as she shook her head.
“Oh, honestly!” she declared, dismounting.
He felt his own face relax when she dropped to her knees in front of him. “Honestly? I was trying to decide whether I should jump to my feet and shout for joy that someone found me before I wound up as a set of bleached bones or to pound the ground in frustration because it was you.”
“I could ride off and pretend I never saw you.”
He studied her face so close to his own. Lord, how he loved the sparkle that shimmered in her eyes, the way the sun turned her skin a warm honey-brown, the way her lips curved when she smiled. She was still so beautiful, and he had let her slip through his fingers. He really was a fool.
“No. My pride isn’t what it used to be,” he conceded. That was the truth. He leaned forward and braced one hand on the ground as he pressed his left arm against his ribs.
“Are you hurt?” Her smile vanished, and he missed it instantly.
“No, but I hope you have some water.”
“Of course.” She jumped up, grabbed the canteen off her saddle and handed it to him. He took it gratefully and raised it to his lips.
“What happened? What on earth possessed you to try to ride all this way on a day as hot as Hades? Your mother was worried sick when your horse came in without you. She, my mother and half a dozen men are out scouring the ranch for you. You never even told anyone where you were headed. You used to have better sense.”
Neal drank his fill, then pulled off his hat and poured the water over his head and neck. “God, that feels wonderful.”
“Well, don’t waste it. It’s a long ride home,” she scolded.
He eased his hat back and handed her the canteen. “It will be a long ride if you keep harping at me. My skull hurts enough without you beating me over the head with how stupid I’ve been. Believe it or not, it did dawn on me that I overestimated my ability.”
He was oddly pleased to see the look of concern that filled her eyes.
“Are you sure you aren’t hurt?” she asked.
“Nothing except a large bruise on my pride and a headache. My ribs are sore, but I don’t think there’s any new damage.”
She curled her fingers lightly around his wrist. His gaze was drawn to her hand. It felt cool against his hot skin, soft yet capable. Her touch had always been magic. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her breathless.
After a moment, she seemed to notice his gaze, and she jerked her hand away. “Have you been out in the sun all this time?” she asked quickly.
“Yes,” he admitted. Maybe that was what was wrong with him. He’d been in the sun too long. Or maybe he’d hit his head harder than he thought. Why else would he be thinking about making love to her under the wide-open sky, to a woman who had left him and married another man?
She wouldn’t have married him if you had married her first.
The thought filled him with regret. His idea of a life without strings had made it easy for her to leave him.
Had it been easy?
He rubbed his forehead as the pain came pounding back. Here he was again, going over what-ifs in the hot sun. “I don’t suppose you have any aspirin?”
“I think there’s some in the first-aid kit. Let me check.” She stood and began to rummage in her bulging saddlebags.
“You’ve got a first-aid kit?” he asked in surprise.
“What can I say? I think like a nurse,” she snapped. “I tried to pack everything I thought I might need, but the ambulance wouldn’t fit. Do you want to tell me what happened?”
She knelt down and handed him two aspirin. He swallowed them with another long swig from the canteen and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “I thought a ride might do me some good, help loosen up my muscles, take my mind off of things.”
He studied her face. Softly, he said, “I was going up to Little Bowl Springs.”
Her gaze slid away from his. It seemed that she hadn’t forgotten their special place. “I guessed as much. How’d you lose your horse?”
“No story there,” he said bitterly. “She stumbled in a gopher hole, and I fell off.”
He closed his eye and sighed. “Can we discuss this on the way home?” The cool water had helped briefly, but his headache was back with a vengeance. He wavered on his knees. The heat seemed to be smothering him, making it hard to breathe.
ROBYN BIT HER lip as she studied Neal’s pale face. Relief at having found him made her almost giddy. Thank God he was safe. It took every ounce of self-control she could muster not to throw her arms around him in a heartfelt hug. It was only because she was glad he wasn’t hurt, she told herself. Not because she wanted to hold him close one more time.
She dismissed that disturbing thought. He’d been out in the sun for hours. She could plainly see he wasn’t in any shape to spend another few hours in it riding home. Little Bowl Springs was only a mile away. There was shade and plenty of water; they could rest up and ride home in the cool of the evening.
It made sense, except she had never expected to go back there again. Especially with him.
She stood up and pulled her cell phone from her pocket. Ellie answered on the second ring.
“I found him,” Robyn said.
“Thank heavens!” Relief filled Ellie’s voice. “Is he all right?”
“He’s had a fall and too much sun, but he seems okay.”
“Where are you?”
“About a mile south of Little Bowl Springs.”
“We’re by the windmill in Section Three. I don’t think we can get a truck all the way up to the springs, but we can get one as far as the south side of the creek about three miles from you.”
Robyn stood aside as Neal climbed to his feet and leaned against her horse. He grabbed the saddle horn with both hands and tried to put his foot in the stirrup, but he missed. He hung on to the horn and rested his head on the tooled leather. She made up her mind.
“Look, we’re going to head up to the spring and wait until evening to start back. I need to get him out of the sun. I’ll call you before we leave there, and you can meet us at the creek crossing.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m not used to this heat, either, and there’s no rush to get him home. Is Mom with you?”
“No. She’s gone to pick up Chance. She said to tell you she’ll wait for you at home.”
“Good.” That was one les
s worry for now. She said goodbye, folded the phone closed and stuffed it into her pocket. She gathered the reins and grabbed Neal’s arm. He tried to shrug off her hand.
“I can make it,” he growled.
“Yes, you can. If I let go, you’ll make it right back to the ground.” She paid no attention to his objections as she held his booted foot and placed it in the stirrup. Then she got behind him and shoved as he pulled himself up into the saddle.
“You never could keep your hands off my butt,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Oh, shut up and get behind the saddle. I’m driving,” she snapped in irritation.
“You’re the boss.” He eased behind the saddle and spoke gently to the horse that shifted uneasily at the maneuver.
“Lean back so I can get on, or you’ll end up with my boot in your ear.” The mental image helped soothe her irritation. She swung up into the saddle, and the horse sidestepped at the extra weight. “Easy, fella,” she murmured.
Immediately, she regretted her decision to have Neal ride behind her. His arms circled her as he leaned forward and held on. His broad chest pressed against her back, and the feeling brought a quick flash of memories. Memories of the nights when he’d held her like this in the dark and made her feel so loved and cherished.
“You smell wonderful—like spring flowers,” he murmured against her hair.
She didn’t answer. She didn’t dare. Her emotions were a wild jumble of anger, guilt, longing and regret. She nudged the horse forward. A mile farther on, they descended into the winding canyon again and followed the floor of it until they rounded a sharp bend and rode into paradise.
Tall cottonwood trees filled the small box canyon. Their leaves flashed silver and green in the faint breeze that penetrated the narrow white limestone walls. A spring burst from halfway up the wall at the back of the canyon and fell softly onto stone steps. Over the centuries, the water had carved out a hollow in the stone and created a bowl where the water pooled, and then it slipped over the rim to fall into the next bowl, and then the next, until it splashed into a large pond at the foot of the cottonwoods.
Little Bowl Springs. It was a special place that belonged to a distant, happy past. It lay almost exactly the same distance from her home as from Neal’s. It had made the perfect spot for them to meet as kids and while away the long summer days. Later, when they were older, it became their special romantic rendezvous.
She drew the horse to a stop beneath the trees. “You can let go now,” she said tartly. He did and slid off over the horse’s rump. Perversely, she missed the feelings of his arms around her as soon as he let go.
Chiding herself for the fool she was, she swung her leg over the horse’s neck and dropped to the ground. After leading the pinto to the top of the canyon, she tethered him where he could crop grass and reach the water without difficulty. She began to unsaddle him. She unbuckled the girth, but before she could lift the saddle, Neal brushed her hands aside and lifted it easily.
“I can get it,” she protested.
“I don’t mind being rescued by a woman, but I draw the line at watching one work while I rest in the shade.”
His lips were pressed into a tight line; she knew it must hurt his ribs to lift the heavy rig, but she kept quiet. He carried the saddle to the foot of a tall cottonwood and propped it up as a backrest.
Pointing at it, he said, “Sit.”
She did as she was told. For now. Pulling up several handfuls of dry grass, he began to rub down the horse. Against her better judgment, she leaned back and let him do the job. He moved slowly, and his hand strayed several times to rub his brow, but he managed well enough. When he finished, he walked back to her.
She handed him the canteen, and he took a long drink. When he was finished, he sat down beside her. Neither of them said a word as they rested in the shade and let the peace of the little canyon steal over them.
At last, Neal stood and said, “I think you should strip.”
“What?” Startled, she glared at him.
He began to unbutton his shirt. “Unless you intend to swim with your clothes on.”
“I don’t intend to swim at all,” she answered primly.
“Suit yourself.” He sat down and pulled off his boots.
Then he stood, shed his shirt and hung it on a limb near his head. “I’m hot, and I’m going to get cool.”
Her gaze was drawn to his muscular body and the thick, corded muscles of his arms and shoulders as they flexed. The small scar from the chest tube was almost invisible in the sprinkling of dark hair that covered his broad chest and glinted with beads of sweat.
She watched a single droplet slip free of a curl. She followed its path as it slid over the sculpted firmness of his belly. Mesmerized, she watched as it paused for an instant at his navel and then raced down to disappear behind his hand as he slowly unbuckled the belt that rode low on his hips.
She licked her dry lips. The tiny clink of the metal snap popping open broke the spell. Her gaze flew to his face. He was watching her. The black eye patch made his expression hard to read, but she recognized the dangerous smile that barely curved his sensual mouth.
She raised her chin. “You shouldn’t get your wound wet.”
“It’s healed. My doctor gave me the okay to shower and to swim. He said I could resume...other activities, too.” His grin widened as he began slowly unzipping his jeans.
Bolting to her feet, she rushed past him. “I—I’m going to get a drink from the spring,” she managed to stutter.
“There’s still water in the canteen.”
“I want a cold drink.”
“Watch out for snakes in those rocks,” he called after her.
She paused and stared at the hillside in front of her. She hated snakes. She didn’t remember seeing any there when she was a kid. Was he trying to scare her? She glanced back at him, but he had turned to face the water.
With one easy movement, he shed his jeans, and she had a perfect view of his taut, strong legs and buttocks clad only in a pair of navy briefs. She started to call out a warning, but she pressed her lips closed and let him dive into the pool. His head and torso shot out of the water, and his whoop of surprise echoed off the high walls.
“Whooee, it’s cold!”
A smug smile of satisfaction curved her lips as she turned away. She did remember how chilly the spring-fed pool stayed, even in the heat of summer.
Listening to his shouts and splashing behind her, she climbed the rocky slope to the source of the spring. When she reached it, she scrubbed her hands vigorously under the stream of cold, clear water and then cupped them to drink. The water was as sweet and refreshing as she remembered.
She drank her fill and wiped a trickle from her chin with the hem of her shirt. Then she sat back on the stone and surveyed the oasis below her.
The horse was busy tearing up mouthfuls of green grass that grew down to the water’s edge. Neal was wading toward the deep end of the pool and splashing water at a dragonfly that hovered close to the surface beside him. The sound of the water falling over the rocks and splashing into the pool below began to soothe her frayed nerves. She closed her eyes and relaxed.
The peace of the place stole over her once more. Had it been like this when she was a kid, or had she been too busy having fun to notice? If only she could slip back in time and become that carefree child again. A rattle of stones clattered off to her right, and her eyes snapped open. Maybe he hadn’t been kidding about the snakes.
Quickly she stood and brushed off her jeans as she looked around carefully. She glanced down at the pool. The horse continued to crop grass and dragonflies skimmed the still surface of the pond, but there was no sign of Neal.
She waited a long moment for him to reappear. Where was he?
“Neal?” she called.
&nbs
p; The horse looked up at her briefly before he dropped his head and began to graze again. She picked her way down the broken rocks surrounding the spring and surveyed the pool. Where was Neal? He couldn’t hold his breath this long, could he?
“This isn’t funny, Neal,” she yelled as she began to walk along the edge of the pond, searching its opaque depths. He had been rubbing his head earlier—what if he’d passed out in the water?
“You come out right now. I’m not coming in after you. Do you hear me?”
Still no answer. “If this is your idea of a joke, I’m going to tear you up worse than that old bull did. You answer me this minute!” she shouted.
Only silence greeted her. She sat down on the bank and quickly pulled off her boots. Then she stood and shed her jeans. A large limb from the cottonwood tree stretched out parallel to the surface of the pond. She stepped out onto it, hoping to see better. The moment she did, a hand shot out of the water, grabbed her ankle and yanked. She toppled into the water.
She came up coughing, sputtering and furious. As she pushed her bangs and some unidentified weed aside, she heard the sound of loud, familiar laughter. The same laughter that had echoed throughout her childhood. Laughter that had been missing from her life for a long time.
* * *
NEAL COULDN’T HELP but laugh, even though it hurt his ribs. He watched Robyn brush the water out of her eyes and pull a long strand of green pondweed out of her hair. Her eyes were as green as the stray weed, and they brimmed with loathing as she rose to her feet. Her wet cotton shirt held another strand of the green stuff, draped over one shoulder like a banner, and he began to laugh again.
“I can’t believe you fell for that same old trick.” His healing ribs rebelled, and he pressed his hand against them.
“I was twelve the last time you tried it. For some unknown reason, I assumed you had grown up since then.” She discovered the weeds clinging to her clothes, tore them off and threw them at him.
The wet weeds splattered in a gooey mess against his chest. “Yuck.”
“What possessed you to do this?” she demanded through clenched teeth.