Linebacker’s Second Chance(88)
She leans against the door frame. “How come you don’t have staff making coffee and tending the horses?” She lifts an eyebrow.
“When Joanna was here—my ex, I mean—we had staff because she insisted a man of my station needed staff.” I look her straight in the eye when I say the words. She knows I’ve got an ex, and she needs to hear every word of it. Every word of why I’m better off without that person in my life. “I still have stablehands who come to tend the horses when I can’t. And the driver and the damn porter who doesn’t know which way his head is screwed on. But no one else, not right now. I won’t lie to you and say I’m a self-made man. But I’m a man who’s making something of myself.”
She nods like this makes sense to her, pursing her lips like she’s absorbing every piece of the information. I didn’t give her a precise reason. There are lots of things hidden in those words—my desire to be a man free from hired labor, to run my ranch in peace, in the expansive solitude that New Mexico affords. And oh, that smart, beautiful woman. I can see she’s taking it all in, that she understands in a primal way. I hand her a steaming cup of coffee and take her arm and walk with her to the alcove that leads to the back patio and stable.
“Come on, city girl, let’s teach you about the country in the early morning.”
“Don’t you ever settle down?”
“Hardly. There’s no settling to be had when you’ve got a ranch to tend to.” I watch her face as she gets her sneakers on in the mudroom.
She’s picky and finicky like every woman from the city I’ve ever known. But hell, she’s game for any of it. I remember all the times Joanna refused to go walk the ranch with me, refused to hike up into the hills even when the weather was perfect and the sun was setting. Even though Cadence doesn’t know a damn thing about horses unless there’s some summer camp in her youth she’s not telling me about, she’s ready and willing me to follow me out to somewhere she’s never been before, something she’s never done. And that’s how it’s been with her the whole time she’s been here. Even though she’s as Manhattan as a woman can get, she’s not afraid to get dirt on her hands or gather duck eggs from the front bushes.
She looks up at me. “What in the hell are you looking at?”
I laugh and help her up to her feet. “Just you. Being beautiful.”
“You won’t be able to look at it much longer.” She knits her brows together, and I suck air in through my teeth.
“I’ll fly to New York, even though I don’t like it.”
“I’m serious,” she says, but I’m already pulling her towards the door that leads out back. I have a nagging feeling that I might have forgotten something, might be pushing something aside. But I push that feeling down and push us both through the door. She yelps when the cold air hits her face. There’s a dusting of snow this year, and I hear this blizzard might drop about two feet on us. It’s a damn good thing she’s just about done with the mural, because my plans involve cooking, Christmas, and sex.
And then what, Rowan? Will she stay then?
Before the thought is totally formed, she takes my hand and lets me lead her to the stables, even though she’ll likely be terrified as hell of the horses.
“So you’re riding the horses, yeah?” She turns to me, and there are snowflakes just starting to fall. They’re melting sweetly against the apples of her defined, high-set cheeks. Cadence smiles, and it’s enchanting enough to rival the sunrise.
“No, princess,” I say with a smile. “They need real exercise. You’ll be riding one, and I’ll have the other. Don’t worry. I won’t make you do any fancy moves just yet.”
Cadence grips my hand hard and tries to pull back to the house. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. You didn’t say anything about actually riding horses. I mean, not really. You were joking. You had to be joking.” Her voice is incredulous, and I could swear I told her explicitly what we were doing.
“Now didn’t I? You must have been too busy looking into my eyes to hear my words.”
“Oh dammit. I thought you were joking.”
She stands still for a little while longer, but then she walks with me. I can tell she’s shaking just a little bit. But still, my little city princess pushes on.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“She’s fifteen hands high. I think you’ll be able to handle her.” I gulp, looking at the splendid animal, all white with black and tan spots on her rump. Rowan runs the brush over her side, and the horse whinnies appreciatively. I look to each side and brush my hair back over my ear, my heart beating so hard that I’m afraid Rowan will be able to hear it. He looks me in the eye. “If you don’t want to ride her, that’s okay. But she needs the exercise and—”