The Cowboy and the Bombshell

by Dove Cavanaugh King

  “Oh,” she said, eyes going wide. “Carson told me about this place. It’s where the animals are kept for the hotel.”

  “Exactly. I thought you might like to check it out, maybe get some photos for your socials of the Trail Ride Experience we will be offering.”

  “Stone, this is such a great idea.” Her smile was brilliant, lighting up her entire face. “I would love to get some shots of the property, the animals, and the staff. Maybe I could get some statements, as well, for the website.” I watched her as her mind went a million miles an hour, creating and sorting ideas for how to use this opportunity to the best benefit of Pennington Hotels. She truly did love the company, and everything she did was to help it succeed. Looks like my dad was right about her.

  Shit. My dad? Did I really just think of Harold that way?

  So much was changing for so quickly. I couldn’t keep up.

  Shaking that off, I turned back to Penelope, who was staring at the property with her hands on her hips, muttering under her breath about lighting and hashtags. It was adorable.

  “There’s one more thing you need to do, Blondie.”

  She turned, eyebrows high. “What’s that?”

  “Experience the trail ride, of course.”

  The look of shock on her face was totally worth it.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Penelope

  “You can’t be serious!”

  “As a heart attack, Blondie,” he laughed, the smug look on his face made me want to sock him.

  “There is no possible way I can get on a horse, Stone.” I would not tell him that my heart was racing, both with fear and at the prospect that I might actually do it. Growing up, I had dreamed of riding horses, like most little girls, I expect. But while most girls may have been imagining castles and knights, I was dreaming of something a little different.

  “Sure there is,” Stone replied, moving around me and heading to the barn. I stared after him for a second, then scrambled to catch up.

  “No, Stone. You don’t understand. I can’t.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, looking at me with genuine concern. “Are you allergic to them or something?”

  “No,” I laughed. “At least, not that I know of. I haven’t been around horses since I was little. But my dad used to take me to see his friends in the Mounted Unit in Midtown once in a while.” It was always so incredible, seeing the police horses of the NYPD. We didn’t go often, but when we were able to, it was always like magic. Horses, in the middle of Manhattan. “I haven’t been on a horse since the last time we went. I think I was six.” The memory, as always, brings both sadness and joy. I missed my father every day, but remembering him always makes me smile.

  “Well, then it’s time to get back in the saddle, Blondie.” Stone held out his hand, his usual scowl now replaced by a half smile that was so sexy I could hardly stand it.

  Placing my hand in his, he drew me into his chest, wrapping his other arm around my shoulders and holding me close. Suddenly, I didn’t care much about horses or photos or anything besides the enticing smell of his spicy cologne and the way his arms felt wrapped around me. Memories of the last two weeks assault me and my cheeks heat, remembering the way Stone and I had shared so many nights of explosive passion. I had never experienced sex that good. Just the thought of all those nights, nights spent in Stone’s bed, had my stomach muscles clenching. The man was very, very talented.

  I was startled from my sexy memories by the sound of approaching footsteps. Turning, I saw a man coming from the barn. He was older, maybe early fifties, with a a barrel chest and arms that looked like they’d been worked hard all his life. He had on jeans and a western style shirt, pearl buttons and all, and a classic beige cowboy hat, he was the epitome of every western movie she’d ever seen, right down to his grizzled graying beard.

  “Mr. Montgomery,” the man said, extending his hand. Stone took it, shaking it with a nod.

  “Smitty. Good to see you. This is Miss Penelope Lund, our marketing director.”

  “Ma’am.” Smitty touched the brim of his hat, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Glad you could make it out today. I have everything if you’d like to follow me.”

  As we moved to the barn, I looked around the property a bit more. There were several buildings and fenced areas, and a good-sized shed that was open on one side which housed a few tractors and off-road vehicles. Across from the barn stood a classic looking farm house, with the giant wrap around porch and all, painted cream with dark green shutters. It was quaint and tidy and I loved it. A woman stood on the porch, also dressed in jeans, and she waved when she saw me looking. I raised my hand back with a smile.

  Bringing my attention back to where I was headed, I squinted as we entered the barn through the broad double doors, the sudden loss of daylight making the interior of the building look pitch black for a few moments. As my eyes adjusted, I could see that it was a huge space, with stalls for horses on one side and a storage system on the other side that reminded me of a locker room, the kind you see on TV when they interview athletes after a game. Open sided stalls lined the wall, each with several items hanging in them. There was a long leather looking jacket, as well as what I assumed were chaps and a cowboy hat at each place.

  “This is the main barn, Miss Lund,” Smitty began explaining, having noticed my curious stares. “When guests come to the ranch, this will be where they are assessed for appropriate dress. If anyone needs something, like long pants or what not, we will do our best to accommodate.” He gestured to the locker closest to him, and I noticed they were all labeled with sizes, allowing the person to choose what worked best for them. It was really pretty brilliant, and I would have to tell Carson how much I loved it.

  Remembering that I had a job to do, I pulled out my company phone and began snapping some photos of the barn and the horse stalls, trying to frame the shots in an artful way, using the app on the fancy phone that I had been provided. After I had gotten a few that I thought would look great, even with a bit of editing, I turned back to see both men watching me, Smitty with a cheeky grin, likely at my city-slicker wonder at finding myself in a real barn for the first time, and Stone with a look that was filled with both happiness and heat. Just seeing the way his eyes were hooded had my tummy fluttering again and moisture flooding my panties. Darn him. He was going to make this trail ride even more difficult than I had originally thought.

  “Right,” I said, clearing my throat and my dirty thoughts. “Tell me what to do next.”

  After a bit of debate about my foot wear, Smitty and Stone both agreed that because this would be a slow and gentle ride on a clearly marked trail, I wouldn’t need boots, but that I should probably bring some for next time.

  Like there would be a next time.

  I frowned at the disappointment that thought brought with it, knowing that riding a horse with Stone would only be a one-time experience. This entire thing that we had, whatever you would choose to call it, was destined to be short lived. There was not way around it. There was nothing about Stone and me that could equal end game, no matter how much that thought made my heart hurt.

  Feelings were not an option in this situation. I had to remember that. It had never been a problem for me to remain emotionally disconnected in the past. Why then, when there was no future possible, was I finding it more and more difficult to stay that way?

  I stood back as Stone and Smitty discussed things I had no idea about, like girth straps and saddle horns, and before long we were back out in the sunshine, with two fully saddled horses idly swinging their tails back and forth. My heart began to hammer in my chest again as I watched the huge animals approach. One was tall and had a beautiful deep brown coat that looked to have red highlights in the afternoon sun. The second was a lighter brown, with patches of cream-colored spots on its rump. That was the one that turned its head towards me, reaching for me with its mouth, startling me into taking a hasty step back.

  “Oh, that’s Annie. She’
s a good girl, she won’t hurt ya none,” said Smitty, chuckling lightly at my unease. “She’s just tryin’ to smell ya, is all.”

  “Oh,” I said, smiling a bit as I approached the horse. “Well, hello, Annie.” I lifted my hand to her, allowing her to brush her nose across the back of it. “It’s nice to meet you.” She moved her velvety soft muzzle across my knuckles, tickling me with her thin whiskers, then abruptly pulled her head back sneezed all over me.

  I gasped as Stone snorted out a laugh at my expense.

  “That just means she likes, ya, don’t ya, Annie girl?” Smitty said, rubbing his hand up and down her strong neck vigorously.

  “Well,” I said, tossing a glare at Stone. “Thank you, Annie, but consider yourself lucky that I don’t return the gesture, hey?”

  That caused Smitty to bark out a laugh which turned into a hacking cough. Once he’d thumped himself on the chest a few times, he turned his water eyes to me. “Well, Miss Lund, I think you and Annie are gonna get along just fine.” He moved towards me, and I fought the urge to back up again. As I watched Smitty and Annie pass me and head for the nearest fence, Stone came up on my other side, his own horse in tow.

  “You’re gonna be fine, Blondie,” he said quietly, his large warm hand coming to rest on the back of my neck, his fingers gently massaging the tension away. “I’ll be with you the whole time. Smitty said Annie is as gentle as a baby duck. She’ll give you no problems.” I turned and looked at him, his hazel eyes warm and his crooked smile making my heart clench. I allowed myself a moment to enjoy the feeling, before I shook it off, remembering all the reasons why feelings were not permissible.

  Stone followed Smitty and Annie towards the fence. I trailed behind, partly because I was unsure what to do next, and partly because I was enjoying looking at Stone’s ass in his jeans. He had been wearing more and more relaxed clothing to work these last few weeks, ditching the suits piece by piece until he was wearing worn jeans and button-down shirts; he even wore his boots and that big shiny belt buckle. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was tired of pretending. I could totally relate to that. He was pretending he was more than the illegitimate son of a hotel tycoon who grew up on a ranch, and I was pretending I was more than the working-class girl from Queens, fumbling her way around Manhattan in shoes she couldn’t afford.

  If he was as exhausted by the whole charade as I was, I wouldn’t blame him one bit.

  Stone’s voice brought me out of my musings when he called me over. “Come on, Blondie. Climb on up.”

  He indicated to a wooden stool with stairs on one side, and a flat face on the other. Smitty had pulled Annie up beside it, and the stool was designed to help me reach the saddle. I ascended slowly, not wanting to spook my horse, no matter how docile they told me she was. Stone tied his own mount to the fence and then came to stand beside me at the stairs.

  “Okay, Penelope. Nice and easy, now. You’re gonna place your foot in the stirrup, grab on to the saddle horn here, and pull.” He reached out and grasped the item in question, giving it a firm shake which caused Annie to toss her head, whipping her mane around like she was in a Beyoncé video. I jumped back with a squeak, forgetting that I was standing on the top step of the stairs. Just as I started to fall backward, Stone grabbed me by the hips, preventing me from landing on my behind in the dirt. “Whoa. Whoa, now girl,” he soothed, and for a moment, I didn’t know if he was talking to me or the horse.

  “I got it,” I said with a laugh, squaring my shoulders and gripping the saddle horn with one hand. I placed the other on the back of the saddle while Stone held tight to what I knew was the bridle. I placed one foot in the stirrup, took a breath, and jumped, swinging my leg over and seating myself in the saddle. Annie shuffled around a little as my weight settled on her back, but very soon we were both comfortable with each other.

  Smitty came over and adjusted my stirrups, then passed me the reins. I took them hesitantly, afraid that this would end horribly, but at the same time ridiculously excited. I had never even been on a horse before, but this didn’t seem so bad.

  “There’s one more thing you need, Miss Lund,” Smitty said with a grin, his eyes nearly disappearing beneath the wrinkles on his tanned cheeks. He shuffled to the barn, reappearing a moment later with a cowboy hat in his hand. It was a regular looking tan straw hat with a black band and a turquoise stone set on to one side. “This here belongs to my Darlene,” he stated, tilting his head toward the ranch house where the woman, Darlene I assumed, was still standing. “But she won’t mind none. You’ll need it out there under the desert sun.”

  “Thank you.” I smiled as I took the hat, putting it on and adjusting it around my bun. I looked toward the house and Darlene smiled, giving me a thumbs up.

  Stone and Smitty talked a bit more while Annie and I got acquainted, her big brown eyes blinking slowly as she looked around with an uninterested stare. I watched as Stone mounted his own horse with a grace and ease that had me jealous. He was beyond comfortable on the big animal, looking for all the world as if he had been born on horseback. Stone moved over to where Annie and I waited, a smile on his face bigger than any I had ever seen him wear. He absolutely radiated happiness. True, bone deep happiness, and looking at him, I realized that Stone Pennington would never live a life that didn’t involve riding horses. He shouldn’t. Watching him there, looking every bit the Texas rancher he was raised as, I knew it was something that would never change, no matter how much my foolish heart may have pictured him in New York.

  It was a silly hope, one conjured by my subconscious during the nights I had recently spent sleeping curled against him in his bed. But a person can’t control their dreams any more than they could control their heart. And it seemed that, with every day I spent getting closer to Stone, both my dreams and my heart were getting away from me.

  “Are you ready to ride, Blondie?” Stone asked with a wink as he moved ahead of me and headed for the trail that led east from the ranch and into the valley that was nestled between the low hills. Annie swung her head, watching as the other horse moved at Stone’s confident instruction of clicks, nudges, and gentle words, and she slowly plodded after them.

  I was tense, sitting stiffly in the saddle, one hand on the reins and one clutching the saddle horn, waiting for the moment when Annie would take off like in the movies and I would go flying. But after a while we both relaxed into the ride, her following slowly, and me learning how to move with her, the rolling of her back much like a wave, moving in a steady rhythm, and soon I was able to enjoy the scenery. The desert landscape was gorgeous, the huge blue sky contrasting against the tans and reds of the sand and the deep browns and grays of the low hills and rocks. Stone kept up a running commentary about the plants and animals that he knew, listing off things like the yucca plant and the rabbitbrush, as well as pointing out a red-tailed hawk and an honest to goodness roadrunner, a quirky looking bird with long tail feathers and a fluffy little hair-do that was to die for.

  It didn’t take long and the sandy planes began to fill up with bigger shrubs and even a tree or two, the varying shades of green popping up along the trail as we meandered our way along.

  “You make a pretty great cowgirl, Penelope,” Stone tossed back over his shoulder as we passed through a narrowing of the trail. “Minus the boots, of course.”

  “Why thank you, candy corn,” I teased, pulling my very best Dolly impression. Stone caught on right away, tossing his head back with a laugh. “Annie and I are becoming the best of friends, you know. Oh,” I dropped the accent, sitting up straighter. “I didn’t ask what your horses’ name was.”

  “This is Big Jake.”

  “Really? Like the John Wayne movie?”

  Stone spun in the saddle to look at me, his eyes wide. “You know John Wayne?”

  I laughed. “Yes, Stone. I grew up in New York, not on the moon. Who doesn’t know The Duke? My dad was obsessed. We’d watch the movies over and over. He had a whole collection of them on VHS. When I was y
ounger, we even had a cat named Hondo.”

  At that his mouth opened wide. “No way! My horse in Texas is named McNally!”

  “Well,” I giggled. “What better way to name a pet than after a classic John Wayne character?”

  He shook his head back and forth. “I can’t believe it. A John Wayne fan. I think I may have underestimated you, Miss Lund.”

  “Well, people tend to do that, Mr. Pennington.” He almost hid the flinch when I used his fathers name.

  “So, tell me,” he proceeded, moving the conversation along. “What was your favorite movie?”

  “Oh, that’s a tough one.”

  “No, it isn’t. The answer is The Alamo. That’s the clear winner in this discussion, darlin’.” I had noticed that as our afternoon progressed, Stone’s accent thickened. Most days I hardly noticed it, but it appeared that being on horse back was drawing it out, and his Texas drawl was doing things to my lady parts that I would never have though possible from mere words. “I mean, come on. A true story about American heroes? There is no other option.”

  I laughed again, trying to put a lid on my lust. A difficult task, to be sure. “That’s a valid point, although I hesitate to point out your personal bias, being from Texas and all.”

  “Alright, then, smarty pants. What’s the best?”

  “You didn’t say best, you said favorite. Those are two very different answers. However, for the sake of this discussion, I will concede that my personal favorite is the best, and that would be True Grit.”

  “Ah. Of course. You pick the one with the strong-willed young woman who takes no shit from anyone.”

  My smile was small, the discussion bringing up memories I hadn’t waded through for years. “True, Mattie Ross is a spitfire, but the real reason I love that movie is more personal than that.” I took a breath, gasping a little as our horses crested the rise and the Colorado River came into view, its broad flat surface looking like cold iron in the harsh afternoon light. “It is so peaceful here,” I said quietly. Annie and Big Jake moved to the edge of the water, obviously being familiar enough with this route that our interference was not required; we were just along for the ride.