Page 25 of Ride Me Cowboy (Coyote Creek Ranch #1)

Chapter Fifteen

Beth

I THOUGHT THAT TELLING him would be like a weight, lifting off my chest. I thought it would set me free.

In reality, it’s not like that. I read this article a while ago, about collective neuroscience, and the theory that just by connecting with someone, telling them something important, it pushes the neurons in your brain into a state of synchronicity.

Like the same parts of his brain light up, as they do in mine, and somehow, telling Cole about Christopher reminds me of that article.

I just feel more at peace than I did before, knowing that he knows.

We don’t talk as we walk. Not at first. But it doesn’t matter.

The silence is nice. It wraps around us, blanketing me, and I luxuriate in it, on this perfectly clear night, with the cool desert breeze bringing relief from the day’s heat.

The sky is velvet black, the stars little pin pricks of light against it.

After a few minutes, he turns to the right, his hand holding mine, leading me down a gentle slope.

I’m well trained now, thanks to Cole, and my eyes scout the distance for predators.

There’s nothing but the faraway, occasional mooing of a cow, and the pretty singing of a night bird, from one of the ancient trees.

At the stables, he unlatches a gate, turns to look at me and smiles, a broad grin that pulls at my heart.

“Come see Rowdy, City Girl,” he says. “He’s been asking after you.”

“He’s such a charmer,” I say.

“Only with you.”

We walk side by side toward the stables, a timber, two-story timber building, a bit rundown, and very utilitarian.

There’s a big barn door that he unlatches, and we step into a central corridor.

On either side are the stables, set out as individually partitioned rooms. Over the gate of one, I watch as a sleeping Rowdy stirs, then stands, coming toward us.

His dark eyes latch to mine and I feel the same connection to him I did the first day we met. My skin lifts in goosebumps.

“Howdy, Rowdy,” I say, patting his nose. He pushes out a breath, then makes a gruff sound.

Cole disappears a moment and returns with a carrot, hands it to me. “He loves them,” he says.

I hesitate a moment before lifting the carrot toward the horse, but Cole shakes his head. “Flat on your palm,” he corrects, but gently, without judgement. I adjust how I’m holding the vegetable and Rowdy leans forward, snaffling it from me.

I stroke his nose while he eats and then Cole says, “What do you think? Want to go for a ride?”

I glance at him. “Do you mean now?”

“Sure do.”

I glance from him to the horse, my stomach in knots. But there’s something about having told Cole about Christopher that feels like I’ve stepped through the door, and on the other side there are possibilities I hadn’t really considered. Why shouldn’t I do something else unexpected tonight?

“I guess so,” I say, fidgeting with my fingers, and for once, I ignore Christopher’s chastisement.

Cole’s eyes flash with something like surprise, then he nods his approval. “Wait here.”

I watch as he opens the stable doors and saddles up Rowdy like he’s done it a million times—which he probably has—then leads him into the central area of the barn, and beyond it, the yard out front. He glances back at me. “Ready, City Girl?”

My lips pull in a half smile as I walk after him.

“Let’s do it.” Then, my smile slips. “But how do I…?” I wave toward Rowdy’s back, which is higher off the ground than I realized.

I have no idea how to get on a horse. People make it look easy enough in movies but if I shove my foot in that dangling stirrup, and try to hoist myself up, I’ll probably fall flat on my ass, right onto the dusty ground at Cole’s feet.

Not exactly the impression I want to make.

“You get the hang of it,” he says, brushing past me so he can touch the stirrup. “The trick is, be fast.”

My eyes are huge. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“Yes, you can,” he insists, his eyes boring into mine. I hold my breath, trying to let his confidence wash over me. The funny thing is, when Cole says stuff like that, I actually do believe him.

I move forward, pausing to brush my hand over Rowdy’s back, behind the saddle.

“Hold on here,” he gestures to the front of the saddle.

Our hands brush as I move as he directed, and my skin lifts in goosebumps anew.

The moon is high tonight, and a perfect blade of silver cuts down on us, so Cole’s face is shown in shadows, all angles, symmetry, and perfect jawline.

I lose my breath a little, just looking at him.

“Good,” he murmurs his approval, unaware of my distracted thoughts.

I swallow, trying to focus. “Foot in.” He keeps one hand on Rowdy’s neck, the other holds a stirrup for me.

I place my left foot there, still feeling like he’s asked me to scale a ten-foot-high fence using my bare hands.

“Now you’re gonna lift up when I say.” To Rowdy, he murmurs, “Stay, boy.”

Then, before I can comprehend what’s happening, he’s right behind me, hands on my hips, so close behind me that when he says, deep and low, “Lift up,” I feel the warmth of his breath against the back of my neck.

My knees go so shaky I have no idea how to do that, but his hands tighten on my hips and he’s lifting me, so it only takes the tiniest of movements from me to gain momentum.

“Leg over,” he says, and if I weren’t so deathly scared of the enormous beast he’s placing me on, I’d have shot him an amused glance at that unintended double entendre.

But I don’t. I focus on doing what he’s said, kicking one leg over Rowdy, somehow managing not to clock Cole in the face—though I think that’s more to do with his skillful dodging than my coordination.

And just like that, I’m on. Sitting in a hard, leather saddle, this magnificent horse beneath me. Instinctively, I reach forward and wrap my hands over Rowdy’s neck, stroking him there. “Hey, boy,” I murmur, hoping we’re still friends.

Hoping…I can’t hope. I can’t think. Before I can even get settled, Cole’s hoisting himself up right behind me.

I mean right behind me.

Like, two adult humans occupying one saddle—albeit a decent sized one—means his big, thick thighs are pressed right against my legs, his whole body is wrapped around me. His face is right there, next to my cheek and my insides are pure jelly.

“You okay?” I glance down at his hand, fisting around the reins, right in front of me. My mouth’s too dry to let me form words.

I nod.

“Not scared?” he prompts.

I’m terrified. Not of Rowdy, but of how much I want something to happen with Cole. Scared of how much I need him even when I know that’s complicated and messy, and probably a million shades of wrong.

I shake my head a little.

“Good girl,” he says, and my heart twists in my chest at the simple, rugged phrase. “Let’s do this.”

My stomach tightens with anticipation, and then, his foot’s moving, pressing into Rowdy’s side—and my thigh—to get the horse moving.

I don’t know if it’s because of Rowdy somehow knowing I’m new to all this, or because of Cole’s expert abilities when it comes to riding—and controlling—a horse, but Rowdy goes slowly, gently strolling away from the stables, toward the open gate that leads to the ranch.

The stars sparkle and the trees form a line of spiked, dark shapes against them, making me think of wild untamed spaces and an innately human desire to explore.

Maybe it’s being on Rowdy, or with Cole, but I’m suddenly thinking about the wild west, the frontier, the ruggedness of this area and the strength of the people who live here.

“Rowdy looks tough,” he’s saying, “but he’s a good beginner horse. He’s got a decent temperament. Nice and patient.”

I stroke Rowdy’s neck, but the truth is, I’m barely listening to Cole’s words.

I’m too conscious of how close he is. Of what it feels like to have my back pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around me, and the shifting of the saddle beneath me really doesn’t help matters.

The slow, sensual rhythm of movement is like the stoking of a flame.

My body shifts slightly, side to side, as Rowdy takes us on a path he apparently knows well, away from the stables, toward the forest on the far edge of the ranch.

My eyes scan the distant tree line, like Cole taught me to, but the truth is, I’m barely capable of registering anything beyond him, coyote or cougar be damned.

It doesn’t matter though. I’m with Cole, and I doubt there’s another man alive who gives off the kind of big protector vibes that he exudes without even trying.

“When I was a kid, we used to ride out there,” he says, the words murmured against my ear.

My pulse kicks up a notch. “Where?”

“The forest. We just loved losing ourselves in it. We’d go in just over that way,” he points to the trees. I can’t see any gap that would indicate where he means, but apparently, it’s a place he knows well. “And follow a track all the way back around to the creek.”

I move my head a little, turning to look at him. He’s so close, his face is in profile right beside mine. With one movement, I could press my lips to his stubbled jaw.

Oh, God. I’m totally lost to this guy. I clear my throat a little, but my voice still comes out hoarse. “Your parents didn’t mind?”

“It was after mom died,” he says, softly though.

Like he’s remembering. His eyes slide to mine, hold my gaze a moment.

I feel like time stands still. “Dad was pretty busy with the ranch,” he looks ahead again.

“You know, holding it all together. I think he was probably just relieved we were out from under foot.”

My lips quirk at that. I can imagine this family of five kids was pretty demanding to run. Four boys and one girl—the youngest.

“So, you’d take all the kids out?”

“I doubt they’d say it like that.”

“But you were the oldest. You must have been in charge, right?”