Page 6 of His Fifth Kiss

“I’m working for Pony Power this summer,” he said. “I’ll figure it out. It’s like riding a bike.” They started off, and Mike didn’t say anything. Gerty appreciated that, as well as the lilting breeze that kept the worst of the summer temperatures from overheating her. She’d been wearing copious amounts of sunscreen since birth, and her skin didn’t seem to know how to hold a hue.

One of her farrier trainers had dubbed her The Pasty Gangster, because Gerty could shoe a horse better and faster than anyone, even the most finicky of equines. She’d loved wearing the leather aprons and working on horse’s hooves. She’d told Molly she could do all of that here, and Molly had readily agreed.

The grasses waved around them, making soft swishing noises. Mike’s feet on the ground added to they symphony, as did the heavy snuffle of Tenney’s breathing. He wanted to go faster than Mike could, and Gerty held him back. He finally gave in to her after about five minutes, and he settled into a slow walk.

Gerty could relax then too, and the world around her turned soft. She loved the blues and greens together, only broken up by brown wooden fences and the occasional puffy white cloud. “Everything in Montana is a bit washed out compared to here,” she said.

“Mm?” Mike didn’t ask a full question, but then, he’d never had to. Gerty remembered everything with him, and her heart played leapfrog with itself. He’d been good and kind. He’d been helpful and respectful. If anything, the years he carried now had only added to his allure and his charm and his stunning spirit.

“Yeah,” she said, deciding it wouldn’t be so bad to talk if he was the one listening. “I worked there for the past several years. There’s a lot of beige and yellow in Montana.”

“It’s not fall here yet,” he said.

“Then there’s only more color,” she said, looking west to the Rocky Mountains. They punctured the sky, and the memories of her and Mikey in Coral Canyon when she’d gone with him for a few weeks in the summer flooded her mind. “The trees are pretty in Montana. Lots of color then, but it’s just like that here.”

“I bet.”

“You ever been to Montana?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “Just Wyoming and Colorado. I did college here in Denver, and then Officer Training in Georgia. After that, I did the flight training on a base in Florida.”

Gerty hadn’t been to any of those places, and she knew Mike had been all around the world. Her doubts piled on top of each other, the inner voice in her head whispering,Why would he want to go out with you?

He’d served his country. He’d listed his dreams and done them.

She’d hopped around, grabbing at any opportunity that came her way. She’d learned what she needed to learn whenever the situation called for it. She’d enjoyed her life, and she told herself she couldn’t get down on herself for not owning her own farm.

“It’s cold in the winter,” she said. “My daddy used to tease the cowboys here that they didn’t know cold, that they’d never really farmed in the winter.” She gave a light laugh. “He was right.”

“But you liked it there?” Mike looked up at her.

Gerty gazed down at him, that fire licking up the tether between them. She actually wanted to reach for it and see how badly it would burn her. Daddy had always told her she played too close to the fire, but Gerty didn’t know how to be someone else.

“I did,” she said. “My mom’s parents are there, so I got to see them a lot. I’d go talk to my mom whenever I was just…lost.”

Silence fell around them again, and Gerty couldn’t help wondering if Mike felt lost right now too. “What are you going to do after the summer ends?” she asked. “Work at HMC?”

“I don’t know.” His voice reminded her of something haunted, and it came out too low. “I have a business degree, but I…don’t know.”

“I understand that,” Gerty said quietly. And she did.

They reached the retreat, and Gerty slid from the saddle. She looped Tenney’s reins over the fence and looked at Mike. Something zipped and arced between them, and Gerty got transported back in time about fifteen years.

Her first kiss. Right here behind this cabin, where later, Gray had arranged summer camp retreats for teens. Gerty had helped with those too, and she had loved her life here at the Hammond Family Farm.

“Do you remember my favorite food?” she asked.

“Assuming your taste buds haven’t changed,” Mike said, grinning and putting a bit of swagger into his voice. Oh, the man was a flirt when he wanted to be. “It’s a good, sloppy, barbecue brisket sandwich.”

For some reason, the way he described it made Gerty laugh. She tilted her head back and faced the heavens, feeling freer and lighter than she had since learning about her fiancé’s misdeeds.

“You got it.” She leveled her gaze at Mike. “Guess who put one on their menu, courtesy of my daddy?”

“Hilde?” he guessed.

Gerty nodded, feeling quite flirtatious herself. She took a step toward him and ran her fingers up the front of his shirt, bumping them over the straps of the sling. “Maybe we should go get one sometime.”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice somewhat hoarse. “Maybe we should.”

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