The Pines Of Winder Ranch: A Cold Creek Homecoming / A Cold Creek Reunion. RaeAnne Thayne
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you go. Your throne awaits.”
She shook her head at his silliness but sat down gingerly, as if the movement pained her. He unrolled one of the blankets and spread it around her shoulders then tucked the other across her lap.
In the moonlight, he saw lines of pain bracketing her mouth and he worried again that this ride into the mountains had been too much for her. Along with the pain, though, he could see undeniable delight at being in this place she loved, one last time.
He supposed sometimes a little pain might be worthwhile in the short-term if it yielded such joy.
As he fussed over the blankets, she reached a thin hand to cover his. “Thank you, my dear. I’m fine now, I promise. Go rescue poor Tess and let me sit here for a moment with my memories.”
“Call out if you need help. We won’t be far.”
“Don’t fuss over me,” she ordered. “Go help Tess.”
Though he was reluctant to leave her here alone, he decided she was safe with the dogs who sat by her side, their ears cocked forward as if listening for any threat.
Back at the trailhead, he found Tess exactly where he had left her, still astride the mare, who was placidly grazing on the last of the autumn grasses.
“I tried to get down,” she told him when he emerged from the trees. “Honestly, I did. But my blasted shoe is caught in the stirrups and I couldn’t work it loose, no matter how hard I tried. This is so embarrassing.”
“I guess that’s the price you pay when you go horseback riding in comfortable nurse’s shoes instead of boots.”
“If I had known I was going to be roped into this, I would have pulled out my only pair of Tony Lamas for the occasion.”
Despite her attempt at a light tone, he caught something in her stiff posture, in the rigid set of her jaw.
This was more than inexperience with horses, he realized as he worked her shoe free of the tight stirrup. Had he really been so overbearing and arrogant in insisting she come along that he refused to see she had a deep aversion to horses?
“I’m sorry I dragged you along.”
“It’s not all bad.” She gazed up at the stars. “It’s a lovely night.”
“Tell me, how many moonlit rides have you been on into the mountains around Pine Gulch?”
She summoned a smile. “Counting tonight? Exactly one.”
He finally worked her shoe free. “Let me help you down,” he said.
She released the reins and swiveled her left leg over the saddle horn so she could dismount. The mare moved at just that moment and suddenly his arms were full of warm, delicious curves.
She smelled of vanilla and peaches and much to his dismay, his recalcitrant body stirred to life.
He released her abruptly and she wobbled a little when her feet met solid ground. Out of instinct, he reached to steady her and his hand brushed the curve of her breast when he grabbed her arm. Her gaze flashed to his and in the moonlight, he thought he felt the silky cord of sexual awareness tug between them.
“Okay now?”
“I...think so.”
That low, breathy note in her voice had to be his imagination. He was almost certain of it.
He couldn’t possibly be attracted to her. Sure, she was still a beautiful woman on the outside, but she was still Tess Claybourne, for heaven’s sake.
He noticed she moved a considerable distance away but he wasn’t sure if she was avoiding him or the horses. Probably both.
“I’m sorry I dragged you up here,” he said again. “I didn’t realize how uncomfortable riding would be for you.”
She made a face. “It shouldn’t be. I’m embarrassed that it is. I grew up around horses—how could I help it in Pine Gulch? Though my family never had them, all my friends did, but I’ve had an...irrational fear of them since breaking my arm after being bucked off when I was seven.”
“And I made you come anyway.”
She mustered a smile. “I survived this far. We’re halfway done now.”
He remembered Jo’s words suddenly. You’ll never find a happier soul in all your days. Why, what she’s been through would have crushed most women. Not our Tess.
Jo thought Tess was a survivor. If she weren’t, could she be looking at this trip with such calm acceptance, even when she was obviously terrified?
“That’s one way of looking at it, I guess.”
She didn’t meet his gaze. “It’s not so bad. After the way I treated you in high school, I guess I’m surprised you didn’t tie me onto the back of your horse and drag me behind you for a few miles.”
His gaze narrowed. What game was this? He never, in a million years, would have expected her to refer to her behavior in their shared past, especially when she struck exactly the right note of self-deprecation.
For several awkward seconds, he couldn’t think how to respond. Did he shrug it off? Act like he didn’t know what she was talking about? Tell her she ought to have bitch tattooed across her forehead and he would be happy to pay for it?
“High school seems a long time ago right now,” he finally said.
“Surely not so long that you’ve forgotten.”
He couldn’t lie to her. “You always made an impression.”
Her laughter was short and unamused. “That’s one way of phrasing it, I suppose.”
“What would you call it?”
“Unconscionable.”
At that single, low-voiced word, he studied her in the moonlight—her long-lashed green eyes contrite, that mouth set in a frown, the auburn curls that were a little disheveled from the ride.
How the hell did she do it? Lord knew, he didn’t want to be. But against his will, Quinn found himself drawn to this woman who was willing to confront her fears for his aunt’s sake, who could make fun of herself, who seemed genuinely contrite about past bad behavior.
He liked her and, worse, was uncomfortably aware of a fierce physical attraction to her soft curves and classical features that seemed so serene and lovely in the moonlight.
He pushed away the insane attraction, just as he pushed away the compelling urge to ask her what he had ever done back then to make her hate him so much. Instead, he did his best to turn the subject away.
“Easton told me about Scott. About the accident.”
She shoved her hands in the pocket of her jacket and looked off through the darkened trees toward the direction of the lake. “Did she?”
“She said you had only been married a few months at the time, so most of your marriage you were more of a caregiver than a wife.”
“Everybody says that like I made some grand, noble sacrifice.”
He didn’t want to think so. He much preferred thinking of her as the self-absorbed teenage girl trying to ruin his life.
“What would you consider it?”
“I didn’t do anything unusual. He was my husband,” she said simply. “I loved him and I took vows. I couldn’t just abandon him to some impersonal care center for the rest of his life and blithely go on with my own as if he didn’t exist.”
Many people he knew wouldn’t have blinked twice at responding exactly that way to the situation. Hell, the Tess he thought she had been would have done exactly that.
“Do you regret those years?”
She stared