“No, they needpany.” Whiskey is nibbling at the pocket of my jeans and I gently push him away. “I didn’t bring anything, boy. Next time.”


    “Is he yours?” Lucy asks. “Well, technically, I guess they all are, but-”


    “He is, yes. About half the horses belong to the ranch. The others belong to people in town. They use this as a boarding stable.”


    “That’s nice of you.”


    “We have the space, and most horses likepany. Come on. Let’s saddle up.”


    I’m ready to help her up onto Ginger, but Lucy swings up gracefully on her own. She’s still in those tight pants and the visual nearly gives me a semi. I’m far too attracted to this girl for my own good, or for hers, for that matter. Last night I had woken up hard and panting, the image of her half-soaked dress seared into my mind.


    I need to get a grip.Text ? by N0ve/lDrama.Org.


    “Are you good up there?”


    “I’m great. This really is like riding a bike, isn’t it?”


    “It is. Don’t let the horses hear youpare them to bikes, though.”


    Lucyughs again. We set off down the path behind the farmhouse, Whiskey taking the lead. He knows these trails just as well as me, and I won’t have to give much direction, which leaves plenty of time to talk to Lucy-to get her tough again.


    She’s tracing patterns along Ginger’s neck. “Did you ride often as a kid?”


    “Yes. My dad was big on that sort of thing.”


    “He was the mayor, right?”


    My voice is dry. “You caught that, did you?”


    “Sorry.”


    “Don’t be. It’s practically associated with the Morris name here. My grandfather held the position for about a decade, too.”


    “The first family of remont,” she teases softly, but I hear the hesitancy in her voice. I hate that it’s because of me; because she doesn’t know how I’ll react. I hate that people are careful around me. I hate that I’ve given them a reason to be.


    “Exactly. My mom was practically a First Lady, hosting town luncheons and organizing church bazaars.” I hold up two intertwined fingers. “She was like this with Mrs. Masters.”


    “It can’t have been easy to grow up with parents like that.”


    It takes me a moment to reply. “It wasn’t always, no.”


    “Did they have high expectations?”


    I nudge Whiskey on ahead and tug at the saddle. The only way to stop making people ufortable around me is to stop shutting down.


    “Some,” I finally say. “My father wasn’t thrilled when I enlisted after college.”


    More like ballistic. For a long while, allmunication had passed through Sarah. And then they’d passed, far too early, in an ident that never should have happened.


    Lucy makes a small humming sound. “That must have sucked, Oliver.”


    I can’t help it-I let out a surprisedugh. “Yeah, it did. It sucked.”


    The teasing is back in her eyes, and it’s like she knows I’ve reached my limit. “But then you ended up back here anyway. Circle of life.”


    “I’m not mayor yet.” I tip an imaginary hat. “Just amon rancher, at your service.”


    Lucy nudges her horse closer to mine. “I wouldn’t know aboutmon.”


    “No?”


    “No. You made quite the impression, you know. Walking into By the Rhode on my first day.”


    I’m not looking at the trail at all at this point. If Whiskey wants to take us to hell and back, I’ll let him. “I remember.”


    “I had no idea where your order was.”


    “No, that much was obvious.”


    Her eyes are sparkling. “And all the while, you just stood there, looking at me. You ass, did you know how nervous I was?”


    “Why do you think I took matters into my own hands?”


    “Right, you stormed into the kitchen because you’re altruistic.”


    “Call me Mother Teresa.”


    Lucyughs. “You’re impossible.


    “You know, you’re not what I thought you’d be. What I assumed on that first day.”


    She shields her eyes from the sun. “And what did you think I’d be like?”


    Whiskey sidles closer to Ginger, nibbling at her harness. “A big-city girl. Afraid of getting dirty. Vegan.”


    “What’s wrong with being vegan?”


    “Nothing in particr, I guess,” I say. “But you’d be hard-pressed to fit in here.”


    “I didn’t think you were that narrow-minded. You’re probably the most well-traveled in this town, you know.”


    She’s likely right, but I don’t want to think about my postings. “Why did youe back here?


    “I heard there was a reception hall being terribly misused. I had no choice but to step in.” Her green eyes dance with mirth. Our legs touch, wedged in between the horses. I could reach out and rest my hand on her thigh.


    “How kind. You’re so generous,” I say dryly.


    “I’m very phnthropic.” She flutters hershes in a dramatic gesture, and I can’t help but smile at her. Our eyes catch and hold. Her gaze is warm in mine, and for a few eternity-long seconds, there’s nothing but this. Us together on a leafy trail in the middle of summer.