Queenie snorted softly as I buckled the bridle. She’d whinnied as soon as she saw me walking toward her in the field and I’d been overly pleased that she remembered me. I led her out of the barn to the garden bench that I’d always used to climb onto her wide, sloped back. It had seemed too hot and sticky for jeans and boots so I hadn’t changed. I slipped off my sandals and hiked my dress up to mid thigh.

Queenie stood as still as a sentry as I climbed onto her bare back. For the first ten years of her horsey life, Queenie had pulled a wagon around an amusement park, and Uncle Robbie said that the experience had made her the best trail horse in the world. He’d insisted that a meteor could come crashing down to Earth next to where she was grazing and Queenie would likely just flick her tail in irritation from having her lunch interrupted. Aside from several dull rides on rental horses, my only riding experiences had been on Aunt Gail’s farm, and Queenie had given me the confidence to learn quickly.

It was just an hour or so before dusk and the shadowy sunlight made the stretch of fields and pastures look endless. Birds were diving into the tall weeds along the side of the road hunting for their last meals before the settling darkness would banish them back to the safety of the trees. A rhythmic hammering in the distance pricked Queenie’s ears forward, and she picked up her heavy feet and plodded faster down the dirt path.

Ryder’s house came into view as we reached the top of the road. Again, the stupid rational voice in my head spoke up, telling me to turn around. For years, I’d stuck to my plan and listened to that sensible voice, and it had ended badly. I squeezed my legs against Queenie’s sides and prodded her forward.

Fresh, unpainted wood lay in stacks along the front of the house. Harold and Chuck, Ryder’s two giant dogs, heard us approach and lifted their big heads. Apparently Queenie and I were not exciting enough for more than a tail wag and short bark.

Ryder stood up from behind the balustrades on his newly built porch. He reached up to wipe the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and then he scrubbed back his dark hair.

“Looks nice.” I was surprised but relieved to hear the confidence in my tone. Even though I was still feeling a blush all the way down to my toes, I was done behaving like a red cheeked school girl.

Ryder glanced around at his handiwork. “Thanks. It’s taken a hell of a lot longer than I’d expected.” He walked down the newly built steps. “Hey, Queenie.” He reached up and patted the mare’s neck. His gaze drifted along my bare legs. Then his long lashes lifted as he looked up at me. His throat moved as he swallowed hard and words seemed to be stuck in his throat at first. “You are a sight, Janie. A man could spend his whole damn day just looking at you.”

I smiled down at him. “And you’re still a smooth talker.”

“Yeah, it’s always worked for me.” A wicked smile turned up the side of his mouth. “Talked you right out of your jeans in your aunt’s barn, a day that is scorched into my brain forever. Never did get over the disappointment of your uncle coming across that yard and stopping us.”

“It’s a good thing he’s a loud sneezer, or we never would have heard him coming.”

He smiled up at me. “Want to come inside and see what I’ve done to the kitchen?”

“Sure.” I slid my leg around and he reached up to grab my waist. He brushed my body against his as he lowered me slowly to the ground. Taking the reins from my hand, he walked Queenie over to a patch of grass and she dropped her head to graze.

Ryder looked down at my bare feet. “I’m not great at keeping track of nails.” Without warning he swept me into his arms. I laughed and threw my arms around his neck.

“Remember when you got stuck in the middle of the river and you were too afraid to cross the rocks--”

“And you lifted me into your arms? Ryder Stevens, there isn’t a girl on this planet who could forget being swept up in your arms.” I looked at him and his nearness made me forget my words for a second and when I spoke they came out as a whisper. “Of course I remember.” I rested my head against his hard shoulder. He carried me up the porch steps and I pushed the screen door open with my foot.

Reluctantly, he lowered my feet to the floor. In the kitchen, the smell of cut pine mingled with fresh paint. I reached up and ran my hand over the new wood. “It’s beautiful, Ryder. You made all this cabinetry by yourself?” I looked over my shoulder to where he was leaning against the adjacent kitchen counter, watching me in a way that sent waves of heat through me.

“Yep. But this took me a hell of a lot longer than I’d expected too.” He looked around. “At the rate I’m going, and with having to stop for planting and harvesting, I figure I’ll be ninety-six by the time I get the whole house remodeled.”

“And then the kitchen and porch will be old and you’ll have to start all over again.”

He laughed. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

I tucked my hair behind my ear only to remember too late about the ugly bruise. He closed the distance between us with two heated steps. Anger flickered in his eyes as he raised his hand, his callused fingertips grazing the bruised skin lightly.

“It was an accident,” I said quickly. “I’ve left him.”

His jaw twitched beneath the dark stubble as he lowered his hand. He looked at me. “What an asshole. God, J. J., if you were mine, I’d stand in front of a moving train just to protect you.”

The truth was, even when we were just two teens having a good time in each other’s company, I’d always felt incredibly safe with Ryder.

His gaze drifted down to my lips, and I closed my eyes in anticipation of a long, hard kiss. The ring of a phone broke the charged silence that had swept in around us. He pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“Hey, Robbie.Yep, I’ll be there in a few.” He slid the phone back into his pocket. “Your uncle’s record of interrupting us remains unchallenged. Mind if I walk back to your aunt’s with you and Queenie? I’ve got to ride your uncle’s crazy horse.”

“Sure,” I said with a good measure of disappointment. “I should be getting back anyhow.”

He led me out to the porch and sat down on the steps to pull off his work boots and pull on his cowboy boots. “I don’t have the heart to tell your uncle, but I don’t know if this horse will ever be tame enough for him to ride.” He stood and whistled. His two dogs jumped up and trotted lazily behind.

In the city, the summer heat never seemed to leave, as if the closely set buildings and crush of people kept it trapped, but out in the wide open, the hot summer air shifted easily to a cool, comforting breeze. It pushed the hem of my dress up higher on my thighs and I made several futile attempts to push it back down. The entire process seemed to amuse Ryder.

“What’s so funny?”

“Who are you hiding those silky thighs from? I’ve already seen them-- more than once if I recall.”

It seemed I’d blushed more often in the past few hours than I had in the past four years. “Now how would you remember this particular pair of silky thighs, when you’ve seen so many?”

He laughed. “My reputation has always been greatly exaggerated.” He walked alongside of Queenie and looked up at me. “And even if I have seen more than my share of thighs, I’d never forget yours.”