Page 66 of Tempting as Sin
“If you can’t swim,” Lily put in, looking alarmed, “don’t try. I’ll bet Clay will tell us that more people die of drowning in Australia than all those things put together.”
“A hundred times more, probably,” Rafe said. “Lily’s right.” A girl who spent every day at the beach, and didn’t swim? It madehimnervous, and it wasn’t doing anything for Lily.
It was time for them to leave, and Lily wasn’t making any move to do it. Rafe knew why. Right now, he had the doeandthe fawn, both of them losing their wariness and settling in, which was pretty satisfying. Lily was sitting on a kitchen stool, her hair tied back in a neat braid, dressed in jeans, high black boots that said more “English” than “cowboy,” a collared blue shirt, and not a bit of makeup. Looking neat and trim and composed, as if the woman he’d made long, slow love to on the couch the night before had been tucked away again, his own special secret. As for Bailey, she was wearing her new clothes and sitting cross-legged on the rug with Chuck’s cone head in her lap, giving him pats and scratches that made his hind leg twitch and the rest of his semi-wolfhound self go limp with pleasure, and looking happy. Looking secure.
Lily said, “Clay’s been bitten by a poisonous snake in Australia. Show her, Clay.”
He showed Bailey his knuckles, which she looked absolutely unimpressed with, and didn’t show her his shoulder. She didn’t need a man taking his clothes off in front of her. He did pull up his trouser leg, though, pointed out the scar that took up the entire back of his calf, and said, “You’re right about the crocs. If this had been a croc, he’d have taken me down in a death roll, and I’d be nothing but a beautiful memory. Fortunately, it was a bull shark, and he let me go. I’m not that tasty, apparently.”
Bailey’s mouth made aWowshape, and Rafe dropped the trouser leg and said, “Always a good one to impress the girls. Never mind. It happens. I was in his back yard, surfing, and he was looking for his picnic.”
“That’s some track record you’ve got,” Lily said. “Do I want to go riding with you?”
“We’ll call it animal magnetism.” He stood up. “As in—the animal kingdom wants to bite me. Speaking of which, it’s about time to go see my horse. Thunderbolt’s had a whole day off from my company. I’m sure he can’t wait. If hedoesbite me, instead of just trying to throw me, do me a favor and don’t laugh.”
He was so easy, Lily thought. So low-key charming, like he wasn’t even trying. Right now, he was driving them down the mountain and up McCallister Peak to the north, then pulling in at the trailhead beside a horse trailer, where a tall, lean figure in jeans, cowboy hat, and boots was leading a big bay gelding down a ramp.
By the time Rafe came around the side of the dusty SUV, Lily was introducing herself. “I’m Lily,” she told the woman, who looked like she’d heard it all and believed less than half of it. “Who’s this big guy?” She gave him a pat on the neck, then a rub on his velvet nose, and he blew out a breath at her that made her laugh. “Am I wasting your time?” she asked him. “Keeping you from something important? Never mind. Soon be going.”
“That’s Thunderbolt,” the woman said. “I’m Jo.” She shook hands, quick and dry, looked Lily over some more, and asked, “Do you know what you’re doing, or am I babysitting you, too?”
Lily smiled. “I should be able to take care of myself, but if I look like I don’t, you can tell me so. It’s been a while.”
Jo’s snort wasn’t too different from Thunderbolt’s, and Lily smiled again, said, “I miss horse people,” and almost got a smile in return. The horse beside Thunderbolt was another bay, a mare this time, with a gorgeous black mane and tail and a calm eye, and she asked, “Is that the one I’m riding? Isn’t she a beauty.”
“Nope,” Jo said. “Cheyenne’s mine. You’re on Starlight. I’ll bring her down now, and you can say your hellos.”
Lily reached into her pocket and asked, “Are carrots OK?”
“Huh,” Jo said. “You came to make friends. Sure.” She eyed the small yellow vegetables with their feathery tops and said, “You didn’t get those in the store.”
“Nope,” Lily said. “Organic garden.” She gave one to Rafe, who offered it to Thunderbolt on a flat palm and gamely didn’t snatch his fingers away afterwards, instead giving the horse a gingerly pat. As for Lily, she stepped across the hitching post and offered Cheyenne her own treat, which she took with better manners, a dainty whuffle of velvet lips that brought delight to Lily’s heart.
After that, though, she forgot about Thunderbolt, Cheyenne,andRafe, because Jo was leading another animal down the ramp, and she was gorgeous. Smallish, maybe fifteen hands, a pale brown shading into white, with a fawn-colored mane and tail. “Surely,” she said to Jo, “that’s an Appaloosa cross. Crossed with what?”
“Arabian,” Jo said. “Best trail horse you could ever hope for. This is Starlight.” She handed the reins to Lily, then watched with a critical eye as Lily led the horse behind the other two and tied her reins to the post, then fed the beauty her own carrot. “And I’m guessing you’ll do. Good. Lets me focus on Motorcycle Boy.”
Rafe sighed. His eyes, blue today, were nothing but amused as he said,“Andthe paying client cops the abuse again.”
“You got too many people telling you you’re special,” Jo said. “You won’t listen if I do that. You just got to remember that it’s a horse, not a machine. Let him know what you want, and then go with him when he does it. Look ahead, anticipate, and let him know what you’ll be wanting next. Do it right, and he’ll finally listen, and you’ll see the difference. Saddles and pommel packs in the trailer. Let’s get a move on. It’s not going to get any cooler out here.”
Rafe was an athlete. He always had been. He was also used to being impressive, andnotjust when his stand-in was onscreen.
Watching Lily saddle her pretty little horse and swing herself up with absolute competence was a pure pleasure. Which could be why he got a bit distracted.
He’d just got his own self up onto Thunderbolt, urged the horse on with his knees in the absolutely correct way, and was moving forward to join Lily and Jo at the trailhead when it happened.
He felt the saddle slip first, and himself with it, and was swinging his leg over, ready to jump down and fix it. The saddle slipped some more, and he kicked his way out of the stirrup at the last possible moment before he hit the ground, rolled, and came to his feet again. Credit his physical training for not breaking an ankle, anyway.
Thunderbolt, meanwhile, had taken four or five finicky steps, then considered bolting, shying at the feeling of the saddle hanging underneath him, which was nothing but his own bloody fault. Fortunately, Jo was already there, holding the reins, settling him down.
Rafe didn’t bother to brush himself off. He stalked over, took the reins from Jo, told her, “Don’t say it,” unbuckled the gelding’s saddle, and started over again. This time, he kneed him in the belly before he cinched the girth tighter.
“He’s got a trick,” Jo told Lily.
“I see that,” she said. “Lazy horse’s attempt to get out of being ridden. It’s interesting that that’s the horse you gave Rafe to start.”
“Thankyou,” Rafe muttered, swinging onto Thunderbolt’s back once more. “Toughening me up, I reckon.”
