Nevertheless, my thighs grip the poor horse for dear life, and I white-knuckle the horn of the saddle. “If you thought it was irresponsible for me to climb up a tiny hill of dirt while pregnant, how does this make sense?” My laugh is hollow. Fitz drops his hand to my leg and rubs soothing circles before patting me like he patted the horse earlier.
He gives me that easy smile that could convince a jury to rule him innocent without a trial.
“This is the safest place our baby could be. That’s how sure I am of this horse. And that’s how much faith I have in your ability to conquer your fear.”
“That makes one of us.” But his confidence boosts my own enough to feel more comfortable up here as Fitz gives me a short lesson on how to hold the reins.
“I’ll take the lead on Dolly, and your horse will follow obediently. You really don’t have to do anything but enjoy the scenery. Give a little tug on the reins if you want Cleo to go slower, and dig in your heel if you want her to speed up.”
I don't plan on digging in with my heel at all because that seems unfair to a pretty animal who's giving me a ride, but I don't tell him that.
When Fitz swings his leg over Dolly, I can't help the little zing in my chest at how rugged and strong he looks. Our baby’s going to have a hot cowboy for a dad. He may roll his eyes every timeI call him a cowboy, but that’s what he is to me, looking right at home and comfortable on a horse.
Dolly starts walking, and sure enough, mine falls behind at a slow pace. So slow, in fact, that Dolly is already getting a little bit ahead of us. I start to get worried I’ll get lost if I don’t get my horse moving, so I give her a tiny little squeeze with my heel, at which point she picks up the pace to a faster walk.
“Whoa,” I say, holding the saddle, nervous that I might slide off. But once she catches up to Dolly, Cleo slows again. Fitz looks over his shoulder at us and grins.
We follow a road to the edge of town and then take another path that turns into an unpaved trail. That leads to a pasture where a few dozen cows graze on the last bits of grass. I wait, half-expecting the cattle to turn troublesome and ornery, but it turns out that they just need to be nudged to move one field over.
Fitz gives his horse a command, and rounds up the cattle, circling them and urging them forward until they start walking in one direction. Eventually, Cleo follows slowly behind, seeming wholly disinterested in the activity.
Once Fitz moves the cattle to the next pasture, Dolly comes back toward me at a canter with Fitz sitting high in the saddle, backlit by the sun, emphasizing his sexy broad chest and cowboy hat. He slows down and I catch his broad smile. He seems happy out here, and it relaxes me.
“That was a mini cattle drive, but you get the idea,” Fitz says. “You crushed it.”
I laugh, and Cleo starts plodding along again behind Dolly. Before long, we're climbing, taking a switchback pass up a gentle rolling hill, crisscrossing over a creek, and walking under stands of trees in a quiet area that shields the valley from view. It's almost like someone planted the trees intentionally for dramatic effect.
As soon as we finish the final switchback, we’re treated to a dramatic view from the top of the entire valley.
“Oh, wow,” I gasp, having never seen such a beautiful landscape that didn't involve the ocean. Spreading before us is a patchwork of green fields, golden grasses swaying in the breeze, and clusters of wildflowers growing along the winding creek until it disappears.
A large bird circles overhead, its wings wide and steady. Fitz points. “That’s a red-tailed hawk. Love them.”
“You love hawks?” I raise a skeptical eyebrow.
He chuckles. “Who doesn’t?”
Sunlight dapples the trees, which give way to the glint of water in a stream below. The hills spread out in easy rolling humps of tans and greens with rustic fences dividing properties along twisting lines. In the distance, the rooftops of a few low-slung ranch houses pepper the landscape, surrounded by grazing sheep and horses, lazily going about their business, oblivious to us. Just like the dolphins I sometimes see along the Pacific coast.
The air smells earthy and fresh, and I inhale deeper, wanting to remember the way the breeze feels against my skin in this quiet moment. Just us, on top of the world, with so much unknown lying ahead.
Instead of feeling overwhelmed, I feel at peace for once in my life. It’s a heady, addictive feeling.
It's also the first time in my life I understood the appeal of living out here in a place like this, or at least visiting it an awful lot.
“Fitz,” I call.
He slides off his saddle and walks toward me, eyes tracing me from head to toe. Dolly wanders over toward a patch of grass that will keep her busy for a while.
“Yeah?” he asks, offering me a hand.
I slide off the saddle and onto the ground, where I stand toe-to-toe with him, our bodies nearly touching. It would be so easy to take a step closer and tip my lips up toward his, but that is not the agreement we made. So instead I look down, not at the ground, but down at the valley below us.
“This is so incredibly beautiful,” I say. “I had no idea.”
“No idea anything could look this pretty?” I turn to find his eyes fixed on me.
My skin blazes, and I feel a flutter of awareness that I need to crush. I turn back to the scenery and work to regain control of my racing pulse.
