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“Your logic seems quite flawed,” I say dryly.

“We have to catch up to the group, Max!” she cries.

Our cowboy friend looks back at us. “Everything okay, y’all?” he asks.

“We actuallydon’tknow how to gallop on a horse,” I inform him over Jill’s protestations.

“Ah, that’s no problem,” he tells us. “Once you two get the hang of riding, I’ll teach you how to go a little faster? How about that?”

“That would be great,” I say. “Thank you, uh—” I wait expectantly for his name.

“Rhett,” he supplies. “And I’m happy to help.” Rhett gives us a deep nod. He’s taking this all in surprising stride. I don’t have much time to consider his motives, though, because we’ve arrived at the horses, and Jill is already attempting to mount hers.

It’s not going well.

“Ma’am,” Rhett steps forward, “how about I give you a boost?”

How aboutnot. My feet move of their own accord, practically hip-checking Rhett out of the way. “I’ve got it, Rhett,” I say gruffly and not at all casually. I sounded like a toddler shouting “mine” when someone else tried to take his toy away.

Whatever. She ismywife. That means if anyone is going to give her a boost onto a horse, it darn well is going to be me.

Mine, indeed.

“I’ve got it, Max,” Jill protests. Right. Of course she doesn’t want my help. She never does, but for once I ignore her insistence on doing things herself.

My fingers slide across the fabric of Jill’s shirt as I take her by the waist, and I find myself wishing Rhett were already off chasing the others. Then Jill and I could go back to that moment we were sharing only minutes ago.

Unfortunately, Rhett is very much still here. And waiting for me to lift my wife onto her horse. So, I lift her and she grabs hold of the saddle, sliding one leg over and looking triumphant as she settles herself in the saddle.

“Woah,” she says as she surveys the scene in front of her. “It is high up here.” Her cheeks are pink and her words breathless, leaving me hopeful that she felt something just now too. It’s been such a long time since Jill has initiated anything physical between us, that sometimes I find myself wondering if she even finds me sexually appealing anymore. If having sex with me is just another item on her to-do list.

No pun intended.

“And you thought you were going to gallop straight out the gate,” I say, forcing a chuckle to hide the chaos of my thoughts.

“I still might,” she protests. “I could be a natural, you know.”

“I suppose you could,” I humor her.

I turn to my own horse, grateful for my height as I easily pull myself into the saddle.

“Alright,” Rhett says, “Max, that’s Wilma you’re riding. A sweet, mostly agreeable mare. Jill, you’re on Brutus. A teddy bear of a gelding. You two shouldn’t have any problems with them. Now let’s go.” He instructs us in some basic commands, then we set off. Brutus’s body ambles from side to side beneath me, and I attempt to get used to the rocking motion so that it’s not so jarring. After a few minutes, Rhett turns to look back at us.

“You two are doing great,” he enthuses. “You want to try cantering? The other group is sticking to trotting, so we’ll catch up if we get these horses going a little bit faster. Or—” he hesitates.

“Or what?” Jill prompts.

“Well,” Rhett moves the reins to one hand and uses the other to scratch the back of his neck, “the two of you could just enjoya ride alone. I’d be more than happy ta’ pull back and give you some privacy. I’ll stay nearby,” he adds hastily, “since you’re both new to horseback riding, but you’ll have your space.”

Jill and I exchange a look. Suddenly Rhett’s extra helpful attitude makes more sense.

“This whole thing has Dorothy written all over it,” Jill mutters softly, giving voice to my own thoughts.

I nod. Of course this was Dorothy. Now that I think about it, there’s no way the ranch would actually let a pair of new horseback riders go straight to galloping.

“Too bad we can’t call her on it, since we basically said we hoped to get separated from the group.” In my opinion, I’m being very magnanimous by saying “we said” when in fact it was just her.Shesaid that. Jill, however, doesn’t acknowledge my graciousness.

“Yes, well, it’s fine.” She tosses her hair. “So we’re not with the group. We can still have fun.” She doesn’t sound very convinced of this. I’d be insulted if I didn’t share the same doubts. Jill and I used to have lots of fun together, but we’ve been fighting a lot lately. And that has only amped up these last few days, despite our efforts to prove otherwise to Dorothy.