Linebacker’s Second Chance(91)
I do as Rowan says, and immediately I feel far better, even though there’s a giant living beast beneath me that I never should have agreed to ride. “Okay, okay. I think I can do this. Are we going to ride them for like five minutes? Or what? Do they need to... pee?”
Rowan laughs out loud and throws his head back. A plume of white mist comes out with the laughter, and he’s outlined in the dim light of the sunrise and the sparkle of the freshly fallen snow. “They’re not puppies, sweetheart. We’ve got to walk them about a mile before the snow gets too deep for them. They’ll get frustrated once it’s deeper. They’re finicky things. Spoiled rotten.”
I smile and snort for a second, so low that I don’t think Rowan hears me. He’s got a knack for spoiling the hell out of some animals. I don’t want to crane my body around again, but I’d bet that Eliza Doolittle is walking behind us, eyes locked on Rowan, wearing that plaid red coat that Rowan put on her this morning.
That man. That man in front of me with the fine, muscular ass. The magic hands and the jawline that goes on for days.
The horses keep walking forward, to the mountains that sweep the horizon behind Rowan’s ranch, like they both know where they’re going. I gulp and try to remind myself that Rowan is fully aware of where we’re going, and moreover, he’s guiding symphony as he walks. And we’re going slow, about as slow as a person on a morning stroll. I keep my mouth shut because I know that whatever comes out of it will betray my dread. And it’s too beautiful a morning for that. I keep looking over at Rowan, wondering when I’m going to freak out and fall off the damn horse he’s got me riding. But as we near the mountain trail, my body starts to calm itself. I’m breathing deeper, taking in the fresh mountain air. I gulp hard as we start riding up the rocky trail, but Symphony knows the way as she follows Calliope and Rowan, her hooves clapping against the snow-covered trail as we climb higher.
Rowan was right, I find myself thinking. This is a beautiful morning. A wave of peace settles over both of us as we ride on in silence.
“You’re doing pretty good pretending to be a country girl,” Rowan says as we climb up the winding path through the evergreen trees. The snow is falling harder now, but still not hard enough to make the horses that uncomfortable, apparently. Both of them keep marching on, despite the white blanket that’s starting to settle over everything in this New Mexico paradise.
I sigh, and my breath is fully visible between the falling snowflakes. “If you think I’m pretending to be a country girl, I’m not, Mister.” I shake my head at the idea. God, I couldn’t even imagine a life like this every day. Or could I? The wind kicks up and seems to reach through my jacket and jeans, chilling me to the bone. The snow whips across my face, but here I am, riding a damn horse and wearing a man’s old farm jacket, looking up over the mountains to see the sun filtering through the first snow of the season. “Not that I don’t like it out here,” I add.
“Don’t worry. I know it. You just like the view. By the view, I meant the view of my backside.”
A flush creeps over my body, and I open my mouth to shout something back at him, something saucy or funny or equally cheesy—but I don’t know what. A gust of wind hits me right as I open my mouth wide, and I choke, then start coughing, the spasms wracking my chest. Acting on instinct, I let go of the reins and bring my hands to my throat. I have the vanishing thought that I have no clue what I’m doing, and I’m probably too inexperienced to be riding a horse. And just like that, I topple forward, losing my balance and falling to the ground with a hard thud. The fall knocks the breath right out of me, but I roll to the side, suddenly convinced that the horse is going to stomp me to death. But instead, she looks down at me and stomps one hoof like she’s exasperated.
“Oh hell no, fuck. What the hell...” I mumble. My right foot starts to grow cold, and then numb. “My foot, oh God. What in the—it must be broken!” My words come out in a rush, and I start breathing hard, my voice rasping. A hundred feet or so ahead, Rowan brings Calliope to a halt and swings down off of his horse in one graceful leap.
“Cadence, Cadence!” Rowan seems to fly over the snow and to my side, his hands searching over my body and carefully touching each bone to see if it’s broken. Deep in my mind, I’m absolutely convinced that my foot is broken. There’s no feeling left in it now, except for the aching pain creeping up my ankle and making its way toward my knee.