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Enzo was given the mare he’d taken a shine to, and was shown how to mount by one of the guys. I didn’t miss the way Enzo checked out the cowboy’s butt during the little demonstration. I couldn’t blame him.
A ranch hand approached Skylar with what he called a sorrel gelding that looked to be the size of a semi-truck.
“Umm, don’t you think this guy is a little . . . big for me?”
I chuckled, watching Sky—normally so confident in every situation—show a few nerves.
“He’s got a gentle soul, this one,” Gray interjected, his gruff voice taking on a softer edge as he patted the horse's flank. “His name’s Thunderbolt.”
“Oh, that’s some foreshadowing if I’ve ever heard of it,” she said, mounting the horse unsteadily.
“He'll take good care of you, I promise.”
“You’ve got this, Sky. Just pretend you’re on a movie set and everyone is watching,” I said, knowing how much she thrived in the spotlight.
I felt a subtle shift in Gray's demeanor as his gaze lingered on me.
“Yer up next,” he said, gesturing towards a gray gelding, taking the reins from one of the hands. The horse was a striking creature, its coat a mix of grays and whites that seemed to shimmer like diamonds in the morning light.
“This here's Storm,” Gray introduced as I tentatively stepped closer, feeling the weight of his gaze on me. “He's sure-footed and reliable. Should be a good match for you.”
I reached out a hand to pat Storm's neck, feeling the powerful muscles shift beneath his coat. His eyes were gentle as they met mine, and a sense of calm washed over me.
“He's beautiful,” I murmured, running my hand along the velvety softness of his mane.
“Sure is,” Gray said, his eyes lingering again. But all too soon, he cleared his throat and stepped back.
“This should be interesting,” I whispered to Storm, who nuzzled my shoulder.
“Mount up, Miss Blake. We should get going if we want to make it to the falls before lunch,” Gray said gruffly, turning away to ready his own horse.
With some assistance from one of the ranch hands, I swung myself into the saddle, adjusting to the height and feeling a rush of excitement mingling with nerves. Good nerves. The kind that came with trying something new.
“Alright, everyone ready?” Gray asked once we were all in the saddle, looking more at ease among his horses than with people.
“Ready,” I replied, eager to see what secrets the trails had to offer.
“There are some rules you need to follow.” He looked at each of us, ensuring we were listening. Stay on the marked trail, don't rush ahead, and give your horse plenty of space. They know the way better than you do.”
He paused, fidgeting, as if trying to think of the right words. He caught my eye and adjusted the worn leather cowboy hat on his head. “I don’t normally let strangers—city folk, no less—ride my horses. This isn’t a dude ranch catering to your whims. That being said, all of these horses are gentle and smart. Be good to them and they’ll take care of you.”
I could have been offended, but I wasn’t. Gray Anderson didn’t know a thing about me, and especially not the real me.
This was his livelihood. He was doing us a favor by taking us out today, and I was determined to be a good guest and show my gratitude. Even if I wanted to shatter the preconceived notions I knew he had of me.
I sat up straighter in the saddle and gripped the reins.
“Keep it tight. Don't wander off.” His instructions were curt, but I nodded, understanding the seriousness of safety on unfamiliar terrain.
As our horses fell into a steady gait, Gray led the way, the rhythmic creak of leather accompanying the soft murmur of my friends' conversations behind me.
The wind whipped through my hair as we made our way through the open fields, the high sun casting a warm glow over the golden landscape, but the farther out we got, the more trees started to surround us.
“Whittier Falls has a lot of history,” Gray started, his voice carrying back to us over his shoulder. “Used to be mining country. Lots of folks came here seeking their fortunes.”
“Any luck?” I asked, intrigued by the glimpse into the past.
“A few struck gold, most found heartache.” His tone was matter-of-fact, but I sensed layers beneath those words, a reflection of the man himself.
