Page 47 of The Cowboy Takes A Bride

Now they would be sharing a tent. Jeez, he’d never get anything done. All because his mother was a master manipulator.

“Someone should stay behind to help you out,” Jace said.

“I have Willow.”

“Wait, I thought Willow was doing summer school.” He tried to focus on the distraction of his sister instead of the fantasy of Meredith naked in a sleeping bag. Good Christ, he was so easy to please. Everything she did made him hard—wear a flannel shirt, make coffee, eat a sandwich. He was a freaking lost cause.

“Her summer A class was cancelled, so she’ll be home for sixmore weeks, then head back to campus for summer B. Let’s get you packed, Meredith.”

Meredith and Willow were whispering furtively. Jace strained to hear what they were saying.

“What are you two hiding over there,” Marjory said, pointing to Willow and Meredith.

“Um…” Willow said.

Yep, they were up to something. Jace was certain, and by his mother's narrow gaze, she knew it, too.

“Did you say I needed to do something, Marjory?” Meredith asked.

“I said we need to get you packed.” Marjory crossed her arms. “What's going on here?”

“Nothing. I was telling Meredith about some of the icky parts of rustic camping.” Willow busied herself by buzzing around the kitchen, stacking items like water bottles and granola bars on the counter.

Jace would bet his sister was lying, but he had a larger pressing issue going on than whatever it was his sister was hiding.

He turned to Meredith. “When was the last time you rode?”

“Um, a few years ago maybe, but I—”

His mom shoved him in the shoulder. “Whose fault is that? From day one you should have had this woman on a horse.” She turned to Meredith “You’ll need some warmer clothes. It gets cool out there at night.”

Jace glanced at Meredith, who looked like he felt—railroaded. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I'm sure Willow mentioned it can be kinda grubby out there.” He looked between the two. “She told you there were no flushing toilets, right?”

“It's called an alpine smear, Meredith. Once you poo outside, you take a rock and––”

“Enough, Willow! Some things should be left to the imagination,” Marjory scolded.

He watched her process what that meant, a variety of expressions crossing her face. She and Willow hadn't been discussing camping. He could see that in her horrified expression, and had he been in a better state of mind, one that possessed a sense of humor, he’d have laughed. He was torn. Part of him hoped that would put her off, but another part wanted her not to be bothered by that.

“I ah…well, I don’t want to be a bother, so if I’ll be in the way, I’ll just stay here.”

Well, hell. How was he supposed to answer that? Of course she’d be a bother, just not like she was thinking.

“Jace, tell your bride she would not be a bother on this trip.” His mother pushed him in the shoulder then shifted her focus to Meredith. “You at least need to try and decide if it’s something you’d like to rustic camp again in the future. It’s a rite of passage here. No pressure, though.” She lowered her voice as if mumbling to herself. “All Shepard woman do it at least once.”

Jace was curious as to how she’d react to the Shepard woman challenge. She set her jaw and pushed her shoulders back. “I’d like to go.” She was quiet, but her voice was firm.

Marjory clapped her hands together with glee. “Fabulous. Let’s get you packed.” Marjory ushered Meredith out of the room, and just over an hour later, they had their horses saddled and loaded with the bare essentials.

Meredith in jeans, a T-shirt, and hair in a ponytail looked far different than the bride he met and married in the same day. Gone were her painted nails and polished look, replaced by a casual and appealing Meredith. Jace looked away, not wanting to make something out of nothing. So what if her nail polish was chipped off or that she wore her hair more casually.

She rode Willow's sporty mare named Fancy and, though abit stiff, appeared more natural in the saddle than some of the locals. “You okay? Comfortable?”

She rode past him without so much as glancing his way. “Would it make you happy if I wasn't and had to go back to the house?” She slowed Fancy and glanced back at him.

“It's not that I don't want you here. It's that I have things to do and I can't be distracted.” Jeez, even that made him sound like an asshole, and there was no doubt she took it that way because she sat up straighter and swiveled in her saddle.

“So I'm a distraction?” Her mouth dropped open with indignation.

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