The Longest Ride(37)
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said.
For a moment, it seemed as if she weren’t quite sure what to make of his comment. “I’m glad I’m here, too. Thanks for inviting me.”
He cleared his throat, thinking about that. “I had an idea that maybe I’d show you around the place.”
“On horseback?”
“There’s a nice spot down by the river,” he said, not answering her question directly.
“Is it romantic?”
Luke wasn’t quite sure how to answer that, either. “I like it, I guess,” he said in a faltering voice.
“Good enough for me,” she said, laughing. She pointed toward the boots he was holding. “Am I supposed to wear those?”
“They’re my mom’s. I don’t know if they’ll fit, but they’ll help with the stirrups. I put some socks in there. They’re mine and they’re probably too big, but they’re clean.”
“I trust you,” she said. “If you can fix cars and build houses, I’m sure you know how to run a washer and dryer. Can I try them on?”
He handed them to her and tried not to marvel at the fit of her jeans as she walked to the porch. Dog trailed behind her, his tail wagging and tongue hanging out, as if he’d discovered his new best friend. As soon as she sat, Dog began to nuzzle at her hand again, and he took that as a good sign – Dog wasn’t normally so friendly. From the shade, he watched as Sophia slipped off her flats. She moved with a fluid grace, pulling on the socks and sliding her feet comfortably into the boots. She stood and took a few tentative steps.
“I’ve never worn cowboy boots before,” she said, staring at her feet. “How do they look?”
“You look like you’re wearing boots.”
She gave an easy, rolling laugh, then began pacing the porch, staring again at the boots on her feet. “I guess I do,” she said, and turned to face him. “Do I look like a cowgirl?”
“You’d need a hat for that.”
“Let me try yours on,” she said, holding out her hand.
Luke walked toward her and removed his hat, feeling less in control than he’d felt on the bulls last night. He handed it to her and she slipped it on, tilting it back on her head. “How’s this?”
Perfect, he thought, as perfect as any girl he’d ever seen. He smiled through the sudden dryness in his throat, thinking, I’m in serious trouble.
“Now you look like a cowgirl.”
She grinned, obviously pleased by that. “I think I’ll keep this today. If it’s okay with you.”
“I’ve got plenty,” he said, barely hearing himself. He shuffled his boots again, trying to stay centered. “How was it last night?” he asked. “I’ve been wondering if you had any more trouble.”
She stepped down from the porch. “It was fine. Marcia was right where I’d left her.”
“Did Brian bother you?”
“No,” she answered. “I think he was worried you might still be around. Besides, we didn’t stay long. Only another half hour or so. I was tired.” By then, she’d drawn close to him. “I like the boots and hat. They’re comfortable. I should probably thank your mom. Is she here?”
“No, she’s at the main house. I can tell her later, though.”
“What? You don’t want me to meet her?”
“It’s not that. She’s kind of angry with me this morning.”
“Why?”
“It’s a long story.”
Sophia tilted her head up at him. “You said the same thing last night when I asked you why you rode bulls,” she remarked. “I think you say ‘It’s a long story’ when what you really mean is ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ Am I right?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
She laughed, her face flushing with pleasure. “So what’s next?”
“I guess we can head to the barn,” he said. “You said you wanted to see it.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “You know I really didn’t come here to see the barn, right?”
7
Sophia
O
kay, she thought to herself as soon as the words left her mouth. Maybe that was a little too forward.
She blamed it on Marcia. If only Marcia hadn’t pestered her with questions last night and all morning about what had happened the night before and the fact that she was going to the ranch today; if only she hadn’t vetoed the first two outfits that Sophia had selected, all the while repeating, “I can’t believe you’re going riding with that hottie!” then Sophia wouldn’t have been so nervous. Eye candy. Hot. Hottie. Marcia insisted on using those words instead of his name. As in, “So Mr. Eye Candy swooped in and saved you, huh?” or, “What did you and the hottie talk about?” or simply, “He’s so hot!” It was no wonder she’d missed the turn after getting off the highway; by the time she’d pulled in the drive, she could feel a tiny bead of sweat trickling down her rib cage. She wasn’t necessarily anxious, but she was definitely on edge, and whenever that happened she talked a lot and found herself taking cues from people like Marcia and Mary-Kate. But then sometimes her old self would come barreling through and she’d blurt out things better left unsaid. Like today. And last night, when she said she’d like to go horseback riding.