Page 103 of Tangled up in You

She was still stuck on that. “I don’t understand. These are forhiking.”

He looked like he was trying to stay patient. “Yeah, and you needridingboots. You know, toridethe horses. Or at least sneakers. I already reserved the horses and mules from our park stock. I suggest you hit a store today if you don’t have sneakers, because first thing in the morning after we pick them up, we’re heading out.”

“Back up. No one said anything aboutridinghorses.” In fact, she’d specifically told Dr. Fornier-Thomas up front that she didnotride, and planned the journey as a hike and needing pack animals.

Mark cocked his head at her in a way she might find adorable on a different day under different circumstances.

In a different universe.

“How do you think we’re supposed to transport you and your gear into the backcountry?” Mark asked.

“Uh, I planned to pack in the equipment on mules or horses. That’s why I told you the crates were designed to strap to a pack harness.”

Chris snorted but leaned against the side of the truck and crossed his arms over his chest.

Mark glared at him but spoke to her. “We’ll need horses. I checked the topographical maps against the GPS coordinates and we can’t get ATVs to the sites. It’d be twice the work, and we’d have to haul fuel, too.”

Jesse fought against the sour, foul taste rising in the back of her throat. “I can’t ride a horse.”

“It’s easy,” Mark said. “Nothing to it. And we’ll give you a gentle one.”

“No, you don’t understand. Ican’tride a horse.”

“Are you afraid of horses?”

“No. I love horses.”

She hated his deliberately patient, borderline condescending and obviously practiced not-a-cop-park-ranger voice he likely used on the public. “There’s nothing to worry about. We can pony your horse behind ours, if you’ll feel more comfortab?—”

“I willviolentlypuke if you put me on a horse.”

His mouth snapped shut as he stared at her, processing her comment. “What?”

MARK

Is shefuckingserious?

He was seriously beginning to question his career choice.

“You’llpuke?”

“Violently,” she said. “Motion sickness.”

He didn’t know how to respond. This was a new one, even for him. “I’ve never heard of a person getting motion sickness riding a horse.” During summer, he spent more time on horseback than he did in a truck.

She planted her hands on her shapely hips. “Well congratulations, Ranger Rick. It’s your lucky day to learn something new.”

He clipped the snarky response desperate to escape his mouth and strangle her adorable neck. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Chris struggling not to laugh at the “Ranger Rick” comment.

He knew damned well Mark hated that jab and always had, considering it was something both his step-father and older and obnoxious step-brother—both cops—teased him with.

Because of course in their eyes a park ranger—even one deemed as enforcement and carrying a badge and a gun and with official policing powers—wasn’t a “real” cop, like them. They thought park rangers were “pussies” with cushy jobs and didn’t do anything but direct traffic and check permits.

It was also another reason why he lived in Yellowstone full-time and rarely went home for visits.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you sure?”

“Am I sure I’ll violently puke if you put me on the back of a horse? Uh, yeah. Want to test your obvious belief you think I’m bullshitting you? I encourage you to wear a rain poncho.”

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