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“Wait, hold up,” she said, steering Buck to stay side-by-side with the restless, prancing Rooney. “I was being nice. I brought you food.” She reached back into the saddlebag, nearly fell out of her saddle, yelped, and had her life flash before her eyes.
An impossibly-strong hand grabbed her arm and yanked her back upright in the saddle. “Ouch,” she muttered, rubbing her arm. “That’ll bruise.”
Garret flinched away from her and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I forget how…”
“Garret Shaw, if you call me fragile, I’m going to take the shooting lessons Lenny put me through and use them on you.”
“I would survive a gunshot,” he assured her. Annoying. “Let’s take lunch over there,” he said, gesturing to a tight grouping of trees. “We won’t make it back to the house before it pisses on us.”
“Garret Shaw, you have a filthy mouth,” she said in a deep, mocking voice. “You are a gentleman.”
“False. I haven’t been a gentleman in years. Hup.” He kicked Rooney and took off for the grove of trees, leaving her to trail behind. Buck didn’t feel like racing. He felt like snacking, and grabbed several tufts of grass as he meandered after Rooney.
When she made it to the huge oak, he was already off Rooney and waiting to help her out of the saddle. Thank the Lord for small blessings, because once again, her legs felt like noodles and she needed help catching her balance, which he obliged with.
“You’ll get used to the saddle,” he promised.
“I hope so. Everything hurts all the time.”
He chuckled and let his hands leave her waist. “I’ll get Buck settled. Here.” He tossed her a coarse, rolled blanket, and she dropped it. Of course.
Garret shook his head and unloaded the biscuits and cheese from the saddlebag while she unrolled the blanket. Under the cover of the thick branches, the rain barely touched them, but outside of the shelter, it was now pouring. The cows didn’t seem to mind the downpour.
He sank down beside her on the blanket she’d set up right next to the trunk of a tree. She didn’t tell him, but she’d chosen this particular spot so he could rest his back against the trunk if he so desired. He did. He sat right down and leaned back on it, and she pursed her lips against a private smile.
He took a long swig from a canteen, and then handed it to her. Oh thank goodness. A fresh swig of water sounded perfect after her efforts and—AAACK! Eliza coughed and sputtered as she struggled to get the burning liquor down her throat. “Whiskey?” she choked out.
He was grinning like a demon, his eyes dancing with amusement. The oaf!
“You have issues, sir,” she groused.
“Is that your first drink?” he asked curiously.
“No. I have had lots of drinks.”
“Fancy wine and sherry don’t count.”
Eliza sat up straighter and handed him a sliver of cheese she’d positioned between the split biscuit. “I’ll have you know I got drunk one time.” There. Now his stupid smile fell straight off his dumbly-handsome, stupid face.
“You can hear lies right? So you know I just told you the truth. You aren’t the only one who knows how to be scandalous.”
“Well, now I have to know the story.” He took a bite and waited while she prepared her own small sandwich.
“It was nine months and two days ago.”
He snorted, and now the smile was back. “What did you get drunk on?”
“Brandy. It was at one of my aunt’s fancy dances. My dance card was positively full that night—”
A growl ripped out of Garret, and he suddenly looked as startled as she felt. “Sorry,” he murmured. “Continue.”
“My dance card was full, but not by my choosing. My aunt was trying to marry me off to the best suitor, only she saw me as lowly, so she invited people she thought would actually accept me and had my silly card full before I even picked it up from the table.”
“What were the men like?” he asked around a bite.
“Highfalutin. Mostly unsightly. One had boils all over his face, but he was the one my aunt said would provide the best life for me. He works for my Uncle Frederick.”
“Your voice just softened when you said his name,” Garret noticed.
