Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright. “Yes?”
“For the record, I most definitely thought about you.”
11
Dinner wasn’t like anything Shelby had ever experienced before, and not just because she and Gran were cooking over open fires. Sure, it put her back in that “is this really my life?” place to flip the meat with long-handled tongs and hear the juices sizzle onto the coals below, then slap steaks onto tin pans with ladlefuls of beans and a biscuit on the top, and hand the whole yummy-smelling mess to someone wearing a cowboy hat and a layer of trail dust. And the snorts and occasional whinnies coming from the other side of the stream, along with the smell of horses and wood smoke, made it all that much more intense.
But it was more than that.
It was Foster.
Every cell of her body was aware of him, tuned to him. She knew where he was without looking, but she kept looking anyway, needing to convince herself that of all the stuff that didn’t quite feel real, this part was. He was here, and they had a date for later tonight.
Riding in the moonlight. Wow.
“Medium-well, please.”
The order brought her back down to earth. Hello? Got a job to do here.
“Medium-well it is.” She loaded a steak and the trimmings, handed it over to the guest—a big guy in his forties with a barrel chest, almost no butt, and a pair of bright red suspenders holding up his jeans. “Enjoy, and don’t forget to come back for seconds! Next?” She grinned at a dirty, happy-looking Lizzie. “Let me guess. Well done to the point of burned, plus A-1 sauce?”
Beside her, Gran faked a shudder. “Oh, the horror.”
“Yeah, but she’ll take an extra biscuit.” The two littlest ones, to go with her small steak and half a potato.
Gran beamed. “Well, that makes all the difference, then. Enjoy.”
As her daughter turned away, though, Shelby, said, “Ahem?”
Lizzie turned back.
“Do me a favor and wash something before you eat. Your hands would be a good place to start.” And darned if she didn’t get an eye roll. A really, really small one, but still. Grinning, she turned back to the chuck line. “Next?”
“Chef’s choice,” said a deep, smooth voice.
Shelby’s heart thudded double time as Foster stepped into position opposite her, but she found a grin that she hoped covered some of the too-intense sizzle. “Just a plain potato, then?”
“There’s nothing plain about you.” His slow, sexy smile made her belly tighten as she handed over his food. “Thank you kindly.” He tipped his hat. Then he glanced around, lowered his voice, and said, “I’ll see you later, Shelby.”
“For seconds?”
He winked. “If you like.”
After that, the rest of the line was pretty much a blur. Unlike back at the ranch, everyone was responsible for washing his or her own pan and utensils—another cowboy rule, apparently—which meant that cleanup was a snap. Dessert was a Tupperware of brownies and cookies, and the leftovers went in a couple of coolers at the end of the chuck truck, to tide folks over as the night went dark and the cook fire farthest away from the tents became a marshmallow toaster.
As things wound down, Shelby said, “Do you want me to help—”
“Nope,” Gran interrupted. “You’re done. Go sit by the fire or something.”
“I vote for ‘or something,’” Krista said as she came around the truck. Her eyes gleamed. “I just happened to see Foster on the other side of the stream, saddling Loco.”
Shelby was grateful for the darkness. “Must be taking him for a ride. It’s his horse, after all.”
“Figured that out, did you? And no, he’s not taking Loco, at least not alone. Brutus is already tacked. Looks like he’s headed out for a night ride, and is expecting some company.” She paused, then tipped her head toward the corrals. “Go on. Gran and I will hang out with Lizzie, put her to bed when she fades.”
Shelby hesitated, throat closing. “You haven’t asked. Neither of you has asked.”
“We figured you’d tell us when you were ready.”
“I’m not ready.” She pressed her palms to her burning cheeks. “For any of it. And Foster . . .”
“Is a big boy,” Gran filled in for her. “He’s been making his own decisions—and ours, at least when it comes to the horses—for a long time.”
“Okay.” She exhaled. “Right. He’s done this before. It’s not a big deal. Just two grown-ups having a little fun, that’s all. Nothing to see here.”
“Um . . .” Krista looked at her gran. “Not to freak you out, but no.”
“Never?”
“As far as I know, you’re the first woman who’s caught his eye since he’s been here.” Krista grinned evilly. “But no pressure.”
Yikes. Shelby swallowed hard. “It’s not . . . we’re just . . .” Jeez, what was it about him that reduced her to stammering?
Krista gave her a little shove. “Go. See what happens. If you ask me, you guys might be good for each other.”
Relief washed through her, cool and cleansing. She hadn’t realized how much she’d wanted their approval until she had it. Loner or not, Foster had been theirs for a long time. “I . . .” At a loss—for words, for logic—she hugged Krista hard. “Thank you.”
“Any time. Don’t worry about Lizzie. We’ll take good care of her.”
“I’ll go tell her.” At least that she’d be going out for a ride and would be back later. As for the other stuff . . . well, they would have to see.
Heart starting to thud against her ribs, Shelby headed for where Stace and Lizzie sat near the fire, toasting marshmallows.
“Wait,” Gran called. When Shelby turned back, she held out a Ziploc. “Want a biscuit for luck?”
She was stuffed, but it didn’t matter. “Absolutely.” When it came to men—and especially this man—she could use all the luck she could get.
• • •
She was coming, Foster told himself. Of course she was coming. He’d seen her excitement earlier, and he’d felt the spark between them in the chuck line. A woman didn’t look at a man like that and then stand him up.
Right?
Loco nudged him, then shook his head until his bit jingled. Beside him, Brutus stood quietly, still relatively tame from the hard riding they’d done to reach the camp.
“She’ll be here,” he said, giving Loco a fond pat. “Stace said she’s been doing a good job with you, has a nice feel.” And from one horseman to another, that was high praise.
Suddenly, Brutus’s head came up, and he elephant-snorted into the darkness.
“Don’t you dare,” he growled.
“Oh,” said a voice from the shadows. “Should I leave?”
“No! I wasn’t talking to you.” His pulse picked up as Shelby materialized out of the darkness. “You can totally dare.”
“To do what?”
“Whatever you want, within reason.” He held out Loco’s reins. “How about we start with a ride?”
She didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Thanks for getting him ready.”
“You were busy. Great meal, by the way. It really hit the spot.” He winced. Give it another minute and he’d be talking about the weather. Darn it, he’d been doing better there in the dinner line, had even managed to flirt some. But now it was back to feeling strange, like this was too important, even though they agreed this was just a summer thing, some fun between a couple of adults who didn’t get much in the way of fun, at least not like this. “Ah, can I give you a leg up?”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.”
No doubt she could’ve gotten on from the ground, but she went ahead and faced Loco with one hand on the saddle horn, the other on the cantle, and crooked her leg. He caught her knee and boosted her up with little effort, then waited while she found her stirrups.
A light buoyancy pressed at the back of his throat, making him want to rub his chest as he snugged up on Brutus’s reins and climbed
aboard, settling easily into the rubbed-smooth saddle. It was a little like the feeling he got on a perfect morning, or when a stubborn greenie finally got it and started working with him, not against him. Only right now it was coming from her, from being with her in the darkness. And from something inside him.
He nudged Brutus over next to Loco, who stood with his head up and his ears pricked happily. “You two ready?”
Her eyes shone in the moonlight as she nodded. “I know this is all in a day’s work for you, but it’s an adventure for me.”
“I love a good adventure. Let’s go!”
He led the way up the hill, along the stream, and away from camp, grateful when a small, wispy cloud scudded across the moon, giving them a bit of darkness for their escape. No doubt Ty, Krista, and a few of the others would be watching the horses leave—and would keep an eye out for their safe return—but he’d rather not be on public display, at least not in this.
Been there, done that.
“Ride on up next to me,” he said, waving her forward as they reached the crest of the hill. “I’d like it, and so would Brutus. He hasn’t done much night riding yet, and would appreciate the company.”
She nudged Loco up and the horses jostled together in the darkness, with Brutus taking reassurance from the older, steadier horse, bumping Foster’s and Shelby’s legs in the process. She filled her lungs and tipped her head back to look up as the moon broke free of the cloud, bathing the world silver and blue, the light so bright that it threw their shadows on the ground. “I never would’ve guessed you could ride by moonlight.” Her voice was full of wonder.
“Horses have pretty good night vision.” Come on, you can do better than this. “I, ah, ride out lots during the full moon. Never brought anyone else along before, though.”
She was silent for a moment, the only sounds the creaks and jingles of their tack and the clink of horseshoes against the occasional rock. Then she said, “So . . . is this the local equivalent of buying me a drink, or is this first date territory?”
It wasn’t until he exhaled that he realized he’d been holding his breath. “I’m taking you someplace special. At least I think it’s special.”
“First date,” she decided, and sent him a little smile. “It’s been a while.”
“Bet I’ve got you beat,” he said, determined to stay in the not-talking-about-the-weather zone if it killed him.
“Try me.”
“It’s been a few years since I skinny-dipped.”
“Is that a metaphor, or are we talking real nudie swimming?”
“The latter. And that’s the second date, cowboy-style.”
She grinned. “Then what’s going steady?”
“That’s when he lets you ride his favorite horse,” he said, then winced, afraid he was accidentally getting in too deep already. Where did banter stop and expectations begin?
“I . . . um . . .” She stared at Loco’s ears. “One of the guests last week told me he was yours. Dana. She said Loco was a celebrity. You, too.”
“That was a long time ago. But yeah, Loco and I are a team. Where I go, he goes.” He chuckled. “Don’t freak, though. Letting you use him was for my own peace of mind. I knew he’d keep you safe and teach you right, and wouldn’t do anything to set things back with Lizzie. Besides, Brutus here needed some saddle time with someone who wasn’t going to put up with his back talk.” He gave the mustang gelding a pat. “We seem to have reached an understanding.”
“You’re good at that. Understanding things, I mean. Horses. People.”
“Don’t give me too much credit. I’m much better with animals.”
“Lizzie would disagree. So would I.”
And wasn’t that a bloody miracle? “She’s a special case. As for you . . .”
“Ye-e-s?” She drew out the word.
“Bear with me. I’m about as rusty as a guy can get, and I wasn’t very good at this stuff to begin with.” Hadn’t had much practice.
Her lips curved. “You’re doing okay from where I’m sitting. You know. On your favorite horse.”
He laughed, finally starting to believe that he wasn’t imagining things, and they were actually on the same page here. “You’re okay, Shelby. You’re very okay. Come on. Let’s ride.”
• • •
They rode for maybe an hour, catching glimpses of the stream as they wound along ridges and valleys, and picked their way across some loose rocks. They dismounted once to lead the horses across one of the rocky sections, then remounted on the other side and continued on. After that first spurt of conversation, they rode mostly in silence, settling into the rhythm of the horses and the night. Shelby decided that she liked how he didn’t feel the need to fill the air with chatter. Sure, it meant she didn’t know all that much about him, but how much did that really matter? They were just having fun.
And she was having fun. She really, really was.
As they entered a small stand of trees, he reined Brutus to a halt and said, “Listen. Can you hear it?”
Loco had already stopped, as if reading her mind. She cocked her head, lips curving when she realized that what she’d initially thought was a breeze ruffling the leaves was the rush of water. “Rapids?”
“Even better.” He clucked Brutus forward, and within moments they were pushing out of the trees, to where the moonlight splashed silver on a wide pool of water churned up by a twenty-foot waterfall.
“Oh!” she breathed. “It’s beautiful!” The water fell down from a sheer, rocky cliff, split around a promontory, and plummeted to the pool, which roiled and spun and then fed out in a narrow river that headed back the way they had come.
While she gaped, Foster swung down from Brutus and rummaged in one of his saddlebags. “Hop down. I’ve got halters and hobbles, and Loco will make sure Blockhead here doesn’t get it in his head to leave us high and dry.”
“We could always hike back.”
His teeth flashed. “Ty would never let me live it down.”
She looked at him for a moment, realizing that he was smiling more than she’d seen from him before, and looked much more relaxed. Was it being out in the backcountry or being with her? Probably both, she decided, and grinned. “What else have you got in those bags? Bathing suits, maybe? I have it on good authority that skinny-dipping is reserved for the second date.”
His chuckle sounded rusty. “How about some Twizzlers?”
She put a hand to her heart. “Don’t tease me.”
“No tease. Twizzlers.”
“Gimme.”
“Nope. See to your horse first.”
She watched what he did with the halter and hobbles, and tried to copy his expert motions. Within a few minutes the horses were contentedly grazing and Foster had the saddlebags slung over his shoulder. “This way. There’s a very cool picnic spot up on the ledge.”
He billy-goated his way straight up the rocks beside the waterfall, leaving her standing at the bottom, staring up at him. “You’re kidding. That’s not a path.”
“Sorry. I’ll come back and show you.”
“No, never mind. I can handle it.” Determined not to get herself busted back to city-girl status, she dug her pointy-toed boots into the space between a couple of rocks and started to climb.
It was only maybe ten or twelve feet up the low cliff he’d scaled, but the slippery stone surface made it feel as if she’d gone twice that far before her fingers found the edge of a gritty ledge.
A strong hand closed on her wrist, warm and sure despite the moisture. “I’ve got you.”
She clambered up with his help, very aware of his hands gripping hers and then his arm around her waist as she teetered momentarily on the edge, about to do a Humpty Dumpty, but not really scared because he was there for her to lean on. Their bodies brushed and bumped as she righted herself, the friction turning the night suddenly warmer than it had been moments before.
Kisses were all well and good, but her body wanted more. And she wasn’t sure wheth
er it was getting ahead of her or not.
“There’s a dry spot over here.” He led her to where a big boulder offered some shelter from the spray and formed a lawn-chair-like depression. He sat down and leaned back, patting the smooth stone beside him. “Come on. It’s more comfortable than it looks.”
He was right, she found as she settled in beside him, leaning back against the smooth stone backrest, with their arms brushing and their legs just shy of touching where they stretched out along the ledge. They were about a third of the way up the falls, near where the water split. That spray, and the mist rising from the churning pool below, made the air dance silver in the moonlight. The trees made the little grotto seem very private, and the distant mountains made the world around them seem limitless. The sound and shimmering rush of water were hypnotic, the rocks still held some warmth from the day, and she found herself settling into the rocky niche, relaxed yet still very aware of him.
“So, do you come here often?” she asked, then laughed. “Oops. Minus two points for the lame pickup line.”
“Jeez, hope we’re not keeping score here, or I’m doomed.”
“A moonlit ride, a waterfall, and processed sugar? I don’t think so.” She kept her answer light and teasing, but his offhand comment hit home all of a sudden, giving her an inner “oh, wow” as she realized she’d mostly gotten out of the habit over the past few weeks. Always before—with her family, her career, her day-to-day life—there was a scorecard.
Not here, though. Not with him, and not with Krista or Gran. They offered to help because they wanted to, not because they were keeping track.
Unaware of her hello moment, he answered her original question. “I get out here a few times a year. Sometimes I just stop off on my way by. Other times I’ll stay and camp a day or two. I’ve seen some amazing sunsets.” He pointed off in the distance, where a gap between two mountains made a perfect triangle. “In the late fall, when the sun lines up just right, it looks like something out of a dream, deep blue up in the sky, going down to red and orange, all these layers going down behind the mountains.”
Summer at Mustang Ridge Page 15