Page 57 of Claiming What Is Mine

Chapter Twenty-Five

Meredith

Gabe leansaround the wall separating the horse stalls. “Need help getting the bridle secure?”

“No, I think I’ve almost got it.” I fiddle with the last buckle.

Gabe leans back around the wall. “And you are sure this is safe for the baby?”

I nod. “According to the internet, as long as we keep it at a walk, it’s perfectly safe through the first trimester.”

He furrows his brow. “If you’re comfortable with it, I’ll trust your judgement. No such thing as being too careful, though. You know?”

I turn to look Gabe in the eyes. “If you had your way, I’d be bedridden already.”

“So? You’d be safe.”

“Really? I’m ten weeks pregnant.” I bring my hand to my hip. “You want me to spend the next six months in bed? Just in case?”

Taking the hint, Gabe changes the subject. “How long’s it been since you rode, anyway?”

I stop to think before answering. “The last time I can remember was…just after college.”

“You’ve got to be kidding? And you call yourself a farm girl?”

I laugh out loud. “I don’t think that’s something I’ve ever called myself. At best I’m a girl who grew up on a farm.”

Gabe walks over with his pinto Jigsaw in tow. “Sorry, Doll, but I fail to see the difference.”

“Maybe there isn’t one, but the ranch was always my dad’s thing—and my brothers’ too, to a lesser extent. We didn’t have horses so, outside of collecting eggs from the chicken coop, all growing up there meant to me was I didn’t have friends nearby to play with.”

“Didn’t have horses—it didn’t make sense to me then, and it doesn’t make sense to me now.”

I shrug. “Our place isn’t as big as this and Daddy always used to say horses take too much care and feeding, and they aren’t any more reliable than a four-wheeler.”

Gabe scoffs. “I don’t know about that. I’ve never seen a four-wheeler that could manage to get you home if you’re passed out drunk. But Jigsaw here?” He gently rubs the animal’s snout. “I trust him more than about any person I know. Present company excluded, of course.”

“What about your family?”

“Ha. I definitely trust him more than my brothers.” Gabe rubs his chin as he thinks. “I guess I trust Chet…and probably Jack too. But I’d never tell them that.”

I shake my head. “You have a very different relationship with your brothers than I do with mine.”

“Jealousy—it’s not a pretty thing,” he says.

“Huh? Your brothers are jealous of your horse?”

Gabe stares at me blankly for several seconds. “No. Of me. My brothers have always been jealous. I mean, I guess I can’t blame them. I kind of am the total package.” He smiles. “You need help getting up on Henrietta?” He bends down to pick up a stepstool tucked against the wall. “Here. Let’s start with this, and if it’s not tall enough, I’ll give you a little shove—from the rear.” Gabe’s face is all smile as he thrusts his hips forward, making little air humps.

I laugh. “You are ridiculous.” When he finishes thrusting, he places the stool next to the horse and I slide my foot into the stirrup. With my hand firmly holding the saddle horn, I attempt to push/pull myself up. Fail. “Those soft chuckles I hear better not be coming from you,” I warn as I make a second attempt.

“It’s not me. I think it was...” Gabe thumbs at his horse. “Here, let me help.” I feel his strong hands take hold on my hips. “Ready?”

His touch melts me. “Hmm?” I snap back to reality. “Oh. Yeah. Ready when you are.” The third time is the charm (thanks to some assistance from Gabe’s magic touch).

He inspects the buckles for tightness before strolling over to his animal and climbing into position, unassisted, in one quick motion.

“Show off,” I tease.

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