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The horse looked docile enough. Big brown eyes blinked as the gelding studied her without much interest.
“Unless you’ve taken a few riding lessons in the past seven years, you won’t get two miles from this place on Dallas.” He grinned deviously in the half light. “Besides, even if you try, this boy, here,” he said, hooking a thumb at a muscular chestnut stallion, “will catch you. Meet His Majesty.”
She looked pointedly at him and deadpanned, “I thought I already had.”
Zane’s lips twitched. “He’s second in command.”
“Oh.” Kaylie looked thoughtful. “Let me get this straight. I’m riding a horse named Dallas and you’re on His Majesty?”
“You got it.” Zane opened the stalls and led both animals out of the barn.
“Figures,” Kaylie muttered, blinking against the sudden brightness as Zane shouldered open the door.
They mounted the horses and rode through a series of paddocks holding several other horses and a few head of cattle. The grass was dry, the ground hard, but still the animals grazed, plucking at the few yellow blades, flicking flies with their tails, or standing in the shadows of the nearby forest.
A few spindly legged foals hid behind their mother’s rumps and one feisty white-faced calf bellowed as they passed. Zane, surprisingly, seemed relaxed in the saddle and Kaylie, not much of a horsewoman, pretended that it was second nature to sit astride a huge animal with a mind of his own.
“Where’re we going?” she asked, shading her eyes and wishing she had thought to bring along a pair of sunglasses.
“To the ridge.”
“Why?”
He glanced over his shoulder, and his gray gaze touched hers. “For the view.”
Zane was riding a horse up to a ridge in the mountains in order to show her a view? If anyone had told her two days ago this would be happening, she would have laughed in his face. And yet she found Zane’s newfound laid-back, get-away-from-the-rat-race attitude appealing.
The ride took nearly two hours as the horses picked their way up an overgrown trail. Kaylie’s legs began to ache, and her eyes burned from squinting against the sun. She took off her jacket and tied the sleeves around her waist as Dallas plodded after His Majesty.
As she swayed in the saddle, Kaylie tried to find interest in the wildflowers sprinkled among the trees, or in the flight of a hawk circling high overhead, but her gaze, as if controlled by an unnamed force, continually wandered back to Zane. His dark hair shimmered in the sunlight and curled seductively over his collar. His shoulders stretched wide, pulling at the seams of his shirt. His sleeves were pushed over his forearms, exposing tanned skin, a simple watchband and a dusting of dark hair.
There was something earthy and masculine that surrounded him, an aura she found captivating. She noticed how his shirt bunched over the waistband of his jeans, the way his belt dipped in back as he rode.
Right now all she could think about was one man—the one man who had once been her husband, the man who had loved her so thoroughly she’d been sure no other could take his place.
Maybe no one could.
That thought caused her to draw back on the reins. Dallas sidestepped, snorting and prancing, his ears flicking as Kaylie eased up on the bit. How easy it would be to fall in love with Zane again. If you’re not in love with him already. “No!” she cried, and Dallas reared.
Zane yanked his horse around. His face was grim. “What?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly, feeling her cheeks flame as she settled her horse. “I—I just lost control for a minute.” She couldn’t fall in love with him again! Wouldn’t allow herself the painful luxury!
“You’re okay?” He didn’t seem convinced, and the concern in his eyes touched a forbidden part of her soul.
“Just fine,” she answered with only a trace of sarcasm.
One side of his mouth lifted. “Good. We’re almost there.”
The path curved sharply north, and the tall pines gave way to a rolling meadow of dry grass. A creek cut into the dry earth as it raced downhill to pool in a lake that reflected the blue of the mountain sky.
Kaylie, as she slid from the saddle, couldn’t help but be enchanted. “It’s gorgeous,” she murmured, looking past this little alpine valley and over the ridge, where mountains steepled and gray-green forests covered the lower slopes. Zane tethered the horses, and the two dusty beasts sipped from the stream.
“That’s the house,” he said, standing behind her and pointing over her shoulder. His sleeve barely touched hers, and yet she was all too aware of him, his earthy scent, the warmth of his skin, the clean, sharp angle of his jaw. He extended one long finger, and Kaylie was mesmerized by the tanned length of arm and hand stretched in front of her.
She followed his gaze and saw, far below, nearly obliterated by fir trees, the roof of the old log cabin.
“You know,” she said, “I never saw you as someone who would retreat up here.”
