“Thank goodness,” she said wryly.
“Unless you force me to.”
“Okay. Challenge noted and desired response achieved,” she said, climbing over the fence.
He noticed that she kept him between herself and the horse. Then her eyes grew bigger and bluer as she stared up at the big, gentle gelding.
“We can ride double until you feel comfortable,” he offered.
“What makes you think riding with you would make me more comfortable?” she asked, looking at him.
He hadn’t thought her eyes could get any bigger or more beautiful, but they did. And he had a feeling when she was talking uncomfortable, it had more to do with him than the horse. Why that should make him feel like grinning, he couldn’t say. The fact was—he wanted to, but of course he didn’t.
“I’ll ride behind you till you get the feel of it up there. Till you’re not as jumpy as spit on a hot skillet,” he added.
“I haven’t heard that one since I left Texas.”
“You ready to give it a go?” he asked.
She caught the corner of her full bottom lip between her teeth as she looked from him to the horse then over her shoulder to the house as if she wanted to take off at a dead run. Finally, she met his gaze and straightened her spine. “Okay. Never let it be said that Hannah Morgan, M.D., is not full of gumption and grit.”
There was the girl from Destiny that he remembered. For just an instant he’d heard the Texas drawl back in her voice. The snappy, husky, seductive tone turned his thoughts to things he couldn’t do on a horse. Well, he could, but it would be damned stupid, and pretty uncomfortable.
Whoa. Down boy, he thought. Rein in that idea pronto. This was a friendly lesson. He only wanted to teach her to ride, as a favor to her mom. The least he could do was pay some attention to Polly’s daughter during her visit, to show her a good time.
Is that why it seemed so important to get up close and personal? Just a good time? For her or him? Not to mention that there were lots of ways to make her feel easy on a horse without riding double.
Ignoring that sensible thought, he said, “Lesson number one—you need to make nice with Trouble.”
“I think I’ve already done that. Just by showing up,” she said. Hesitantly, she sidled up beside him.
He looked at her and wondered who she thought she’d made nice with—the horse or him. “Not even close,” he answered. It was safer not to make it about him. “You’ve got to touch Trouble. Like this,” he said taking her right hand and placing it on the animal’s neck.
Her wrist was delicate, fragile. She was small, barely came up to his shoulder. Something stretched inside him. If he didn’t know better, he would think it was his protective streak stirring to life. But he did know better. Corie had stomped it right out of him. She’d told him over and over: in this day and age, women wanted a lot out of life. Being a wife and mother wasn’t everything. She didn’t need a man to define who she was or protect her. His ex-wife’s putting her money where her mouth was and leaving had hit him like a truck and Dev had gotten the message loud, clear and painful. He could stand back and let Hannah do her thing just fine, thank you very much.
But he stood behind her, close enough that he could smell the fragrance of her—something floral and sassy mixed with soap. Her blond hair was tucked through the opening in the back of her hat and trailed down, skimming her shoulder blades. He wanted to free the silken strands and run his hands through them. Warmth radiated through him and sweat popped out on his forehead. So much for giving her an early lesson before it got hot.
“What do I do now?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder and up at him.
He swallowed—hard. “Just what you’re doing. Let him get used to you.” And me too, he thought. Damn that rusty tone in his voice. With any luck, she was too preoccupied with Trouble to notice.
“I think it’s more like me getting used to him,” she said nervously. “After all, he’s bigger than me. By a lot.”
So was Dev. A fact that fueled his pesky, persistent, protective streak. “I won’t let him hurt you,” he promised.
It was on the tip of his tongue to add that he would never let anything hurt her. But he held back. A fact for which he was really grateful. He didn’t want another woman in his life. Especially a career woman like Hannah.
“I appreciate that. Although if he takes it into his head to pulverize me, I’m not exactly sure how you could stop him.”
“Even if something spooks him, usually there’s warning. Time to get out of the way. There are signs. Restlessness. Shifting. Snorting. Same things that happen to you and me when we get rattled,” he said.
“God knows I snort when I get riled up,” she said.
“And here I thought you were brighter than the average bear. How intelligent is it to smart-mouth your tutor?”
“You tell me. I learned from you.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“Selective memory. It’s a condition that affects a lot of men,” she added.
“Male bashing is not the best way to win friends and favorably influence your riding teacher. But I’m going to take the moral high ground and not hold it against you. Right now Trouble is just standing there as peaceful as you please.”
“I’ll ignore the contradiction in terms of that last statement,” she said as she continued to stroke the horse’s neck.
For several minutes, he just let her do that while the slender, delicate, elegant, smooth curve of her neck tortured him with wondering what that spot would taste like.
Good God Almighty! What in the world had gotten into him? This—whatever it was—was just plain nuts. The sooner he got her on a horse and fulfilled his fool’s promise, the better. He’d just learned another lesson from Hannah. Don’t be too quick to offer a riding lesson to a pretty, big-city, lady doctor.
“Okay,” he said abruptly. “I think it’s time to climb up on Trouble and see how it feels.”
“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” She hesitated for a moment, her hand resting on the horse’s neck. “What do I do?”
“One hand on the horn, left foot in the stirrup and haul yourself up, swinging the right over his rump. Easy as falling off a log.”
She slid him a look over her shoulder. “No form of the word ‘fall’ should be spoken in this conversation.”
“My mistake.” He held back his grin until she glanced away.
“Mistake is another word I don’t want to hear.”
“How about ‘just do it’?”
“Words to live by,” she said, but her voice was tight.
She followed his instructions and hauled herself up a little awkwardly. As badly as he wanted to put his hands on her waist and help, he kept his arms at his sides. In spite of the fact that she was stiff as last Sunday’s corn bread. Apprehension was written all over her, from the tense shoulders down to her shapely little fanny.
“Everything’s fine, Hannah,” he said, trying to reassure her.
“You’re not leaving me up here by myself, are you?” she asked from her perch in the saddle.
He wanted to. But he was the one who’d started this. His daddy hadn’t raised a quitter. Next time, he’d be more careful not to let his mouth write checks that his body would be foolish to