by Sabrina York
He walked Gotham to the mounting block and slipped from the saddle first. He winced when he landed on his bum leg a little wrong, and then reached up to help her down. Not surprisingly, considering the shock she’d had, her legs collapsed beneath her. While he loved the feel of her against him—damn, did she feel good—he was naturally concerned and tightened his hold.
“You okay?” he asked into her hair as she clung to him.
“Mmm hmm.” Such a brave lie.
They stood there while she struggled to find her feet. He rubbed her back in slow arcs that made him ache for more and breathed in her perfume and allowed himself this moment of bliss.
At long last, she looked up at him and that bottomless brown gaze cut through him. Her lips kicked up into a wobbly semblance of a smile and she said, “I swear, I’m usually not a wilting flower.” Ah, he loved the indomitable look in her eye, the proof that, though she’d had a fright, she clung to her insouciance.
He’d met a lot of women in his life—and he’d loved a few—but never had he met someone whose gaze hit him that hard, whose scent made his heart stutter, whose presence made him witless.
It probably wasn’t a good thing, the witless part. She didn’t seem to be a woman who suffered fools and, for a minute or two there, he just kind of gaped at her. Like with his mouth open and everything. Thankfully she was gracious, and waited for him to respond. “You’ve, ah, had a shock.”
He continued to support her as he stood back, but her knees wobbled, then folded, so he lifted her into his arms. She gave a squawk, but then settled in, wrapping her arms around his neck.
Eye to eye, like this, he was slammed once again by the intensity of his reaction to her presence. When she smiled impishly, he felt it to his core. “My hero,” she cooed, but in a teasing tone.
She was such a petite thing, it was like carrying a bale of feathers, but his damned leg twinged nonetheless. He sucked in a deep breath and headed for the ranch house.
The house was far too close. Because, he found, now that he had her in his arms, he never wanted to let her go.
Sabrina York is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over twenty-five novels, which range from sweet and snarky to scorching romance.
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