Page 48 of The Cowboy and the Bombshell
The list went on, but one fact was evident through all my thoughts: I wanted to keep Penelope Lund.
I just had to figure out how to do it.
As we cruised down the small two-lane road that was State Highway 165, Penelope pulled me from my daydreams about her when she sighed.
“I just can’t believe all this space,” she said, gesturing to the miles and miles of Nevada desert that surrounded us. “I’ve never seen anything like it. There is just…nothing. It looks like it goes on forever.”
“I guess it’s pretty different from what you’re used to.”
“It’s the complete opposite from what I’m used to. In New York, even out in Queens, there’s nowhere you can look that you can’t see another person. Maybe they’re walking past you on the street, or maybe they’re sitting on their balcony four stories up, but there is always someone near by, living their life right alongside you. It’s comforting, in a way, to know that you aren’t alone. But there is an element of suffocation that I feel sometimes, knowing that there is always someone near, for good or for ill.
“But out here,” she paused, looking around again and the low hills with their brick red coloring and the smattering of low brush. “Out here it’s just you and the desert.” The look on her face was pensive, like she was discovering something she’d never imagined. As I stared at her beautiful face, so lost in thought, I tried to picture what seeing something like this for the first time would feel like, but I couldn’t seem to put myself in her place. “Out here,” she went on after a time, seeming to have come to a conclusion about how it all felt. “I’ve never felt so…free.”
I had no response to that, and she didn’t seem to expect one, so we continued on in silence as the hills crept closer to the highway, penning us in as we continued along our computer guided route. When the thing finally announced we had arrived at our destination, I could hear Penelope’s quick inhale.
“A ranch?” she asked excitedly as we parked and climbed out of the truck. “You brought me to a ranch?”
“Not just any ranch. This is Pennington Ranch.”
“Oh,” she said, eyes going wide. “Carson told me about this place. It’s where the animals are kept for the hotel.”
“Exactly. I thought you might like to check it out, maybe get some photos for your socials of the Trail Ride Experience we will be offering.”
“Stone, this is such a great idea.” Her smile was brilliant, lighting up her entire face. “I would love to get some shots of the property, the animals, and the staff. Maybe I could get some statements, as well, for the website.” I watched her as her mind went a million miles an hour, creating and sorting ideas for how to use this opportunity to the best benefit of Pennington Hotels. She truly did love the company, and everything she did was to help it succeed. Looks like my dad was right about her.
Shit.My dad? Did I really just think of Harold that way?
So much was changing for so quickly. I couldn’t keep up.
Shaking that off, I turned back to Penelope, who was staring at the property with her hands on her hips, muttering under her breath about lighting and hashtags. It was adorable.
“There’s one more thing you need to do, Blondie.”
She turned, eyebrows high. “What’s that?”
“Experience the trail ride, of course.”
The look of shock on her face was totally worth it.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Penelope
“You can’t be serious!”
“As a heart attack, Blondie,” he laughed, the smug look on his face made me want to sock him.
“There is no possible way I can get on a horse, Stone.” I would not tell him that my heart was racing, both with fear and at the prospect that I might actually do it. Growing up, I had dreamed of riding horses, like most little girls, I expect. But while most girls may have been imagining castles and knights, I was dreaming of something a little different.
“Sure there is,” Stone replied, moving around me and heading to the barn. I stared after him for a second, then scrambled to catch up.
“No, Stone. You don’t understand. I can’t.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, looking at me with genuine concern. “Are you allergic to them or something?”
“No,” I laughed. “At least, not that I know of. I haven’t been around horses since I was little. But my dad used to take me to see his friends in the Mounted Unit in Midtown once in a while.” It was always so incredible, seeing the police horses of the NYPD. We didn’t go often, but when we were able to, it was always like magic. Horses, in the middle of Manhattan. “I haven’t been on a horse since the last time we went. I think I was six.” The memory, as always, brings both sadness and joy. I missed my father every day, but remembering him always makes me smile.
“Well, then it’s time to get back in the saddle, Blondie.” Stone held out his hand, his usual scowl now replaced by a half smile that was so sexy I could hardly stand it.
