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“I’m guessing it’s been a long time since you rode, Peachy. That water seems to be moving fast.” Piers scuffed a knuckle along his jaw.
“I can do it.”
They traded another look. Ash gave a nod to whatever unspoken conclusion they arrived at. “You got your weapon close, Piers?”
She jerked her head to look at Ash. “What do you need a weapon for?”
“It’s spring. Bears are out of their dens. Some could have last year’s cubs with them. We don’t want any surprises.”
She blinked at him.
“You’re not in the courtroom anymore, Peachy. This is the last frontier. The wilderness.” Ash’s stare held a challenge.
She grunted. “The last time you gave me a look like that, I’m pretty sure I bested you in that pitching contest your senior year.”
Piers barked out a laugh. “You mean the dunking booth. And I dunked both of you and Char—” He stopped abruptly on the name.
Both men studied her closely.
“It’s okay. You’re allowed to mention him. He was part of our group. I don’t regret those days.” It was only the recent years that she harbored regrets about, and mostly because she’d wasted so much time when she could have been living, like her friends.
But it was never too late to start.
She set her heels into her horse’s flanks, sending it down the incline. A whoop from one of the guys made her laugh, and the wind in her hair urged her faster. When she grew closer to the water, she noted that Ash was right—it was moving swiftly and ran deeper than she would have guessed from the top of the ridge.
She moved her horse up and down the bank, searching for a spot to cross.
Piers beat her to finding one. “Over here!” He waved an arm for them to follow. Then he started across, pushing the cattle ahead of them. The water reached high on the big animals’ bodies, but they crossed without any trouble.
Piers reached the opposite shore and turned back to watch her and Ash.
A crease knifed between Ash’s dark brows. “You got this? You can always ride with me and we’ll lead your horse.”
She shook her head. “What kind of horsewoman can’t cross a river? It’s not that deep or running that fast.”
But after her horse took the first few steps into the water, she felt it tense up. She tried to soothe it with words and to keep the upper hand to guide it to dry land, but it sidestepped.
Suddenly, she felt its body fall out from beneath her. Cold water rushed up toward her face, knocking the breath right out of her.
Ash bellowed. Piers let out a shout. The horse thrashed, and she barely moved away before it delivered a lethal kick to her side. Actually, she was swept away, helpless to get to shore.
She scrabbled to get her footing, but every rock she set her boot on was slippery with moss and slime.
“Fuck! Grab the rope, Sylvee!”
The end landed a foot away. She slapped at the water to take it, but the current washed it away before she could latch on.
“Here! Try again!”
She reached out and clamped her hand around the rope. The thick hemp fibers burned into her palm, but she held on tight.
Standing on shore, Piers yanked hard, towing her in. Hair straggled over her eye, but she still saw the fierce determination and fear on his rugged features as he hauled her to safety.
She reached the bank and tried to drag herself up it, but he grabbed her under the arms and lifted her. They collapsed to the bank with her on top of him. Seconds later, Ash hit the ground beside them. Four strong, warm arms engulfed her.
Ash planted kisses to her chilled forehead. “You’re safe, baby. Fuck! That was too close. Never scare us like that again.”
“Get her clothes off. I’ll build a fire. We have to get her warm.” Piers’s command sent a different sort of warmth through her. Even though she was dangerously cold, that edge of worry in Piers’s tone sent heat swirling south directly between her legs.
