Page 26 of Rescued By the Mountain Man

Biting my lip, I grabbed the saddle horn again and stuck my boot in again, one more heave and—fell again. I huffed out a breath, fluttering a rogue strand from my eyes.

“I guess we’ll have to do this the hard way,” Warrick muttered, and before I could wrap my head around it, he added, “Don’t think anything of this.”

He plucked me up like I weighed a pebble and sat me onto the saddle, but in those five split seconds, I felt, smelled, and goddamn nearly spontaneously combusted.

The first thing that hit me was how his scent stroked my senses: a masculine mixture of leather, spicy citrus, sweet grass, and pure red-blooded man. His arms surrounding me flooded my senses, sending heat fanning under my skin in all directions.

With his palm on the small of my back, I swallowed over the seismic waves rippling through my bones.

I grabbed the saddle horn, still grappling with the idea that either the temperature in the room had shot up a hundred and twelve degrees or I’d entered a menopause hot flash thirty years early. His hand was still lingering at the small of my back, and my nipples drew up tight and hard.

This was bad, very, very bad.

Pull it together, girl.

Daring, I looked down. My stomach swooped with a sickening lunge, and my vision swam when I saw how far I was from the barn floor. I gripped the pommel tightly to save my life. “I am going to faint.”

“It’s better if you don’t look down.”

His wide palm rested on top of my thigh, and warmth spread from that touch all the way through my body. I focused on his bright blue eyes to get my mind off this dizzying height. “How do you not collapse when you’re so high?”

“I came out of my mother’s womb in a Stetson and boots,” Warrick said matter-of-factly. “I knew how to ride before I could walk.”

I knew he was jerking my leg, but imagining a baby in diapers and boots made me giggle.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Humored now that I am imagining you as a baby with long legs,” I chuckled. “I’m a little shaky, but I am starting to get used to being this high up.”

“See those cords there wrapped around the horn? Those are your reins. Grasp them lightly,” he ordered. “I’ll lead you around the barn with this. This is the lead string. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” I replied.

He made a weird clicking sound with his tongue, and my heart lodged into my throat as Honey stepped forward, and the gait nearly made me tip to the left—and then right—and the left again. I forced myself not to strangle the reins as it was a very long way to the hard floor.

“The gait will feel strange at first, but don’t fight it.” He advised, looking up to check if I was about to keel over. “It will get easier with time.”

I don’t know about that. I don’t know how much time I have here.

“You’re doing great.”

We circled the front part of the barn a few times, turning a few times, and I started to get used to the rolling walk. “Okay, girl, you can stop here.” The horse immediately jerked to a stop, and he petted Honey’s neck.

“Can you stay there without giving me an emergency hospital bill?” he asked, and when I nodded, he added, “We’ll make a horsewoman of you yet.”

I watched as Warrick went to his patiently waiting horse, effortlessly swung into the saddle, and rode to my side. The clip-clip-clop of the horse’s hooves on the floor was loud.

He tipped his hat up, and the wide, worn Stetson covered his head so I could only see the curl of his hair on the collar. I did notice the breadth of his shoulders under the blue T-shirt, and the way his Wrangler jeans hugged his butt and legs had to be a crime.

He looked over his shoulder, and I hoped he didn’t notice my face, which had to be red from being caught staring at his backside.

This was going to be a long day.

Chapter Nine

Warrick

Ishouldn’t be having this much fun toying with Zara—but I did. Without knowing it, she was a sort-of, kind-of guinea pig for the riding school I wanted to open, teaching kids, teens, or even adults.

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