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Hadn’t he already shown her the real Weston? Abrasive, rude, reluctant… and she still kept coming.

“I approve your request,” Tate was saying to Paisley. “When will we have a final number? We’ll need that to allot horses and supplies. Please submit everything you know via the website form so there’s no room for error.”

Paisley nodded. “I’ll have a firm headcount by the weekend, if that’s good enough.”

Tate looked at Mom, who nodded.

“The kids will be responsible for their own sleeping bags and pads. I have my own. The ranch owns several large tents we can use.” Paisley eyed Weston.

He cleared his throat. “I do, as well.” Of course, he did. She’d thought of everything.

“Weston, once you’ve figured out a route and destination for the ride, please let me know.” Tate tapped in his tablet. “Maybe they can spend the full days in the middle in camp fishing or swimming or something.”

“I’ll think on it.” He wasn’t as familiar with Sweet River’s mountain meadows as he was with the Circle K where he’d grown up, but he’d done a fair bit of riding. He’d study the trails and the topographical maps then maybe do a recon ride. A ride on which he would not invite Paisley Teele. A guy needed time to himself to brace for an onslaught of a bunch of people for 24 hours straight, days on end.

Paisley did know how to ride in silence. She’d done it a few times last summer, though last week’s staff ride made it seem like she’d forgotten how.

When she was talking about horses or nature, it wasn’t so terrible. It was when she tried to convince him a relationship was possible that he needed to turn tail and run.

Finally.

Paisley had begun to think Darrell had steered her wrong, but Weston was finally striding up Pegasus Lane. The former owners had named all the roads on the property for winged creatures, which apparently amused Mr. Sullivan, because he’d kept them.

She waited until Weston had nearly come abreast of her position near the stable door before she stepped into his path. “Hey.”

He stopped in his tracks. “What are you doing here?”

“Good morning to you, too.” She stretched. “It’s a gorgeous day for a ride.”

“Where are you going?” Suspicion laced his voice.

“With you, of course.” She’d bat her eyelashes, but she was still in the shadows. “I heard you’re checking out a location for the trail-riding camp today, and I thought you might like some input.”

Weston snorted.

“Well, maybe like is too strong a word. How about need? Or, how about just admitting company would be good, just in case?”

He shook his head slowly. “Go back to bed, Paisley. You’ve got a full day here, I’m sure. And I don’t want company.”

“Cindy is handling the activities today, and I’m coming with you. Saddle up, cowboy. Daylight’s wasting.” She turned her back on him and hiked into the stable, where she already had Enchantment tacked and ready to go. “Oh, by the way, I have food packed. I’ll even share.”

He grunted as he passed Enchantment’s box to Ranger’s.

Paisley gave a silent victory pump as she led Enchantment out to the mounting area. She checked her supplies: her stainless water bottle, thermos with black tea, protein bars, sandwiches, cookies, a small first-aid kit, a hoodie and rain jacket in case of weather changes, binoculars, sunglasses. She’d even remembered to charge her phone, so she’d be able to take photos. She settled her hat on her head then swung into her saddle just as Weston exited the stable.

The cowboy glowered at her as he mounted. With no further ado, he urged Ranger into motion, and the black horse shot toward the trail.

No problem. Enchantment’s legs were even longer than Ranger’s. He might be a bit skittish, but he’d keep up, and Paisley could stick to his saddle no matter what happened. Looked like they were going to eat some miles before breakfast.

After twenty minutes or so at full stretch, Weston settled Ranger into a mile-eating trot without glancing back to check on Paisley. Soon they’d be past the trail network they used most often with the tourists, who only wanted to amble along for an hour or so at a time.

Dawn crept around the mountain, shadows shortening as the birds began to flit about and sing their wake-up songs.

How did Psalm 121 start again? I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.

Paisley shifted in the saddle, stretching her back then one leg then the other. It was a good day to be alive, a good day to spend in nature. If only her companion — no, she wasn’t going to whine about Weston’s bad mood today, even inside her head.

She scanned a gap in the forest. “Bears downslope,” she said quietly.