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His fingers opened, and the reins dropped back over his horse’s neck. He slowly began snapping up his shirt. “We made out, that’s it. But I thought you didn’t want to talk about it?”

“Well, no, I don’t, but…”

“So, we are supposed to pretend like it didn’t happen, but it’s also supposed to be a big deal?”

“Yes!”

He stopped working the pearl snaps and stared at me. “But I’m not supposed to make a big deal about it ’cause we can’t talk about it.”

“Exactly!”

His gaze darted away from my face, landing on the saddle horn. He leaned forward, rested his elbows against the leather, and continued to stare, dazed and confused.

I was just as confused as he was, encumbered by my own actions and lack of self-control.

And silence filled the stiff, hot summer atmosphere.

His lips didn’t move.

His eyes remained fixated on one spot.

His untucked shirt billowed in the gentle breeze.

Then he shook his head, drew his brows together, and finally looked at me.

“What?” he uttered.

I sighed, loudly. “How does that not make sense?”

“Did you listen to yourself, at all?” he asked, sitting back up and shoving his shirt into his pants.

“Obviously, I did. I said the words!”

“You said a whole lotta nuthin’, ’cause that didn’t make a lick of sense, Goldie,” he grumbled, shaking his head.

“You know what, forget it. Like I said, I don’t want to talk about it. Nothing happened. I’m sorry.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered quietly. His chest expanded as I pursed my lips.

No use in making this a bigger deal than it is. It’s nothing. Especially to a guy like him.

However, I stood there like an idiot, waiting for him to say anything, to keep this conversation going even though I told him I hadn’t wanted to talk about it. All it would take was him muttering that he liked kissing me, that maybe it was semi-enjoyable to him and not just a reaction to the hormones that had been flooding our bodies.

Was it just the hormones, though? Was it the fact that I was so grateful he’d rescued me that it overwhelmed me with those feelings and endorphins?

But more importantly, was it going to happen again?

“You gonna get on?” he asked, breaking the silence that had once again consumed us.

“Get on?” My eyes latched onto his, where he blankly stared at me. “Like with you? On your horse? You still want me up there, even after what happened?” I hissed. What in the world was going on with me?

His brows knitted together. “Well, how else are we both gonna get down the mountain?”

Slamming my eyes shut, I blew out some air. “Right… Bud got spooked,” I muttered. “Wait!” My eyes snapped back open. “Bud! We have to go after him.”

“I already told you he’s making his way back home and will be fine.”

“And I mentioned the bad guys. You know, the ones that shot at you?”