Page 73 of Her Redeemed Protector

Our ride resumes with the familiar rhythm of ranch work. When a couple of stubborn sheep decide to stray, Ranger and Ruby are quick to herd them back under Micah’s sharp commands. It’s impressive to see the dogs respond to him, as they usually only heed my calls, but today, Micah’s authority is unquestionable.

Suddenly, two other sheep break from the path, heading toward a treacherous section of the valley. “Ho! No!” Micah’s shout echoes, but he’s too far away to intervene.

“I’ve got it!” I blurt out, urging Misty into action. Ranger dashes alongside us, his body language focused as we flank the wayward sheep. We navigate carefully, avoiding the denser brush that could trap the animals—or us. With strategic maneuvering and Ranger’s intense collie stare, we coax the sheep back toward safety.

Rejoining the group, the brothers break into applause. “That was incredible, Savannah,” Micah compliments, his voice filled with genuine admiration.

From the corner of my eye, I catch Hux blowing a discreet kiss in my direction, his gaze full of pride and affection.

As we reach our destination, the reality of my return to ranch life settles over me like a welcome blanket. Though we moved to Helena, the essence of the ranches and farms never really left me. But this—this vibrant, unbridled landscape—is the real West, and it feels like coming home.

The sheep are safely herded, and we’re winding down for the day.

“Hey, Mic, think you can handle things from here? I’m taking Savannah down to the river,” Huxley calls out, already halfway to his plan.

Micah throws a knowing grin at his brother. “Go on, you two. I’ve got these sheep and the dogs well in hand.”

I dismount Misty, taking a moment to kneel by Ranger and Ruby. I cradle Ranger’s face in my hands, then move on to Ruby, my usual way of thanking them for their dedication. “Be good. Stick with Micah,” I instruct, their tails wagging in response.

Once they’re off with Micah, it’s just Hux and me. He points toward the horizon, where the river carves a winding path through the land. “We’re going three miles down that way,” he says, the mischief in his eyes unmistakable. “Race ya!” And with that, he’s off like a shot, spurring his horse into a full gallop.

“Damn it!” I curse under my breath, swinging back up onto Misty. We burst forward, hooves thundering against the earth. The landscape becomes a blur of greens and browns as we race past, the wind tearing at our clothes and hair. The ride is a breathtaking blur of motion, an exhilarating dash that ends all too quickly when we reach the riverbank.

“Woo-hoo!” I pull up, my laughter ringing out as I throw my arms up in victory.

“You’re just too damn fast, Savannah Mitchell!” Huxley grins, his horse catching its breath beside him.

“Did you let me win?” I narrow my eyes at him.

“No way. My horse wouldn’t have allowed that,” he protests.

“Maybe your horse is just a gentleman, letting Misty lead,” I chuckle.

“I reckon your girl is just as feisty as her rider,” he shoots back with a smile, hopping off the saddle.

We secure our horses to a nearby tree and wander to the riverbank, where the steady flow of the river provides a soothing backdrop. Captivated by the shimmering light on the water, I let the peacefulness sink in.

“Fancy a dip?” Hux suggests, a roguish grin playing on his lips.

“Best idea you’ve had all day,” I fire back, enthusiasm bubbling over.

“All the way, Sav. All the way,” he taunts, his eyes tracing my movements as I hesitantly peel off my layers.

His piercing eyes, a captivating shade of coffee brown mixed with burned caramel, lock onto my last remaining pieces of clothing. As his eyes trail down, their hunger evident, they finally come to rest at my cleavage.

I pause, feeling a bit self-conscious. “Are you sure we’re good here?” I glance around, half-expecting an audience. Maybe city living has dulled a bit of my old boldness. But even back on my ranch moons ago, I never quite shook the feeling that prying eyes might be lurking, even though I never truly thought of it as a nudist camp.

“So what if they see?” he laughs off the concern.

“Hux?”

“Trust me, we’re safe, baby,” he reassures me, hastily kicking off his boots and stripping down his leather leggings.As he loosens the buttons of his shirt, he throws out, “‘Water is the catalyst for love.’ Who said that?”

“Michael Phelps, maybe?”

“Me!” he proclaims proudly, and with a whoop, he dives into the river, naked as his first day in the world.

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