“Hey, sweetheart,” I say to Mikayla as I put the basket down.
I walk over to her and place my hand on her thigh.
“Hi,” she whispers in reply.
“Are you scared?”
Without uttering a single word, Mikayla leans over the saddle and falls into my arms, her body shaking.
“Sweetheart?” I ask as I squeeze her against me. She’s terrified. I hadn’t anticipated this. Had something happened in her past to cause this? Why is she afraid?
My eyes lock with Patrick’s, his brow furrowed in concern.
“I don’t know why I got so scared,” Mikayla confesses softly against my neck.
“Want to ride with me?” I suggest.
We’ll need to get a different horse. We won’t be riding hard, so I’m not concerned about the extra weight, if we get the right horse.
“You’ll have to hold the picnic basket,” I tell her teasingly, hoping the laughter in my voice helps calm her.
I brush the wisps of hair that have fallen from her ponytail out of her face. I’m relieved when her eyes meet mine.
“You got a picnic basket?” she asks with a soft smile.
“Sure did. Got you the entire experience. Then we head home, change and go out for dinner. Pack a bag, ‘cause I got us a hotel room for the night,” I explain.
“What did you do, Caine Montgomery?” Mikayla asks with a playful grin. The light is back in her eyes.
I can’t help myself. I lower my head and take her lips with mine. Mikayla opens for me, our tongues colliding with passion. A moan escapes me when Mikayla runs her fingers through my hair and tugs the strands.
“Ahem!”
I pull back at the obvious sound of someone clearing their throat, but it’s not Patrick. I look into the bloodshot eyes of Jason.
“Found yourself a buckle bunny, I see,” he says with a sneer.
The urge to punch him in the face is replaced by utter amazement when Mikayla stands, her hands on her hips and glowers at him.
“I have no idea what a ‘buckle bunny’ is, but by the sneer on your face, I can only assume it isn’t a loving endearment,” she utters angrily. “You smell like ass rolled in whiskey, so before my boyfriend punches you, I suggest you go home and slather yourself in soap, soak in it for afew minutes too, because you’re disgusting.”
“What the fuck?” Jason mutters, his mouth hanging open in shock. His face is turning a dark shade of red, and I can tell he’s both embarrassed and pissed off.
“What are you doing, Jason?” Sawyer asks, running over from the arena where he was riding with the other bronc riders.
I stand and pull Mikayla to my side. “Jason, you’re done. Go home. You’re done here. Never come back. And much luck finding a new ranch to work with your drunk ass.” I don’t have to push him away because Patrick does it for me.
Sawyer grabs his brother around the shoulders for only a moment before he lets go and takes a step back.
“Jesus, you smell like ass. Did you even go home last night?” Sawyer asks as he scowls at his brother.
“I got this,” Patrick says, waving me off.
Knowing that I can rely on Patrick to manage the Jason situation, I guide Mikayla into the barn and find Wind-Song, an older stallion we use for western riding lessons.
“You have to get on first; I’ll ride behind you,” I tell Mikayla as I prepare him for our ride. I walk him out of the barn and prepare him by guiding him over to the steps where Mikayla can get on.
I help Mikayla up first, and hand her the basket, which she holds on her lap. Then I climb on behind her, adjusting her on my lap. She turns her head and looks up at me, trepidation in her eyes.
