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Casey grinned. “She’s still matchmaking, huh? Well, you have to give it to her. She’s not a quitter.”
“No. She’s as stubborn as my daddy. Although her renewed interest in marrying us off is all my fault.”
Casey quirked an eyebrow. “Does this have anything to do with you spending the night with my brother in the hayloft?”
She blinked at him, surprised Rome had told him. “I hope he told you nothing happened.”
“He did. But even if he hadn’t, I would have figured it out.” He hesitated. “Rome’s had a hard time of it after Emily left him. He’s not quite ready to get back in the saddle.” He winked at her. “But he might be getting there.”
She knew what he was implying and she shook her head. “Oh, no. It’s not like that between us. We’re just . . .” Not sure exactly what they were, she left the sentence hanging.
Casey grinned. “Well, I hope you stay around long enough to fill in that blank.”
He led her to the Remingtons’ large stables where she expected to find Rome. Instead, the only ones to greet her were a friendly dog, a not-so-friendly goat, and some lazy barn cats that refused to get up from their afternoon naps to say hello to a stranger.
“Rome is at the branding corral,” Casey said. “There’s no road so you’ll have to ride.”
Cloe couldn’t remember the last time she’d ridden. Daddy had sold the horses more than a year ago and Brandon had never been a horse lover so they hadn’t ever gone riding. But as soon as she mounted the pretty filly Casey saddled for her, it felt like coming home. Tears welled in her eyes. Something Casey didn’t miss.
“You okay?” he asked.
“It’s just been a while. I didn’t realize how much I missed it.”
He nodded. “Once a ranch kid, always a ranch kid.” He pointed to the open land behind the stables. “The branding corral is just about three miles that way. Keep heading west and you’ll see it on your right. Since it’s been a while, I’d take it slow until you feel comfortable in the saddle again.”
Cloe agreed, but the spirited filly wanted no part of walking at a sedate pace. As soon as Cloe got past the stables, the horse started tugging at the reins and prancing fitfully. Cloe kept a firm seat and waited for the horse to settle down before she nudged her into a walk. After a while, she took her into a trot before she gave the horse free rein.
The filly took off and it was sheer heaven. The cold wind pulled her hair from the clip and whipped it around as the bright Texas sun kissed her face and glistened off the horse’s chestnut coat. In the air there was a hint of spring and beneath her the muscles of the horse flexed and stretched as they raced over the grazing land. She would have raced right past the corral if a shrill whistle hadn’t caused the horse to slow and change directions.
The branding corral was a confusion of cowboys on horseback and cattle, but it wasn’t hard to figure out who had whistled when the horse trotted right up to the cowboy who had just, effortlessly, swung over the corral railing.
Rome was dusty from head to toe. Even though it was cold, he wore only a flannel shirt with a light blue Henley beneath that made his eyes appear the color of a robin’s egg when his gaze met hers. There was confusion in them and she suddenly felt stupid for riding all the way out there and taking him away from his work.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t bother you while you’re busy. I can come back later.”
He shook his head. “No. I’m glad you came.” He pulled off his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow as he called back to the cowboys working in the corral. “I’ll be back in a few.”
There was a chorus of “’Kay, boss.” and “Sure thing, boss.” Then before Cloe realized what was happening, Rome moved her foot out of the stirrup and replaced it with his before he swung up behind her. His arms encircled her waist, but he didn’t try to take the reins.
“Head over to those trees.”
She guided the horse to the copse of mesquite and oak trees, trying to ignore the scent of hardworking man and the press of Rome’s hot, hard body. It was impossible. Her heart seemed to be beating out of her chest and it was a struggle to breathe.
It was a relief when they reached the trees and he swung down. He reached up to help her dismount. When she was on the ground, he smiled.
“I see you didn’t forget how to ride in the big city.”
She patted the horse’s neck. “No, and I missed it.”
“I could tell. You looked like you could have ridden all the way to Mexico if I hadn’t whistled.”
She smiled. “We used to have a horse I taught to come when I whistled because I couldn’t say his name.”
His eyes squinted. “Why couldn’t you say his name?”
She stroked the horse’s silky forehead. “I had a stutter when I was a little kid. I struggled with my d’s and the horse’s name was Dandy.”
“You stuttered? I don’t remember that.”
