12
SIX MONTHS LATER . . .
A CHILLY WIND blew around the shuttered windows of the indoor arena. Standing in the training barn, Mateo watched while Claire checked Sin for the tenth time since they’d saddled her. The grulla mare stood patiently as Claire fussed over her.
“Babe,” he said, more amused than impatient, “Sin’s going to sleep while you debate whether the saddle is perfect.”
Unperturbed by his observation, the beautiful British lady who had stood by his side for the surgery, who’d been there when he woke up, and who’d fussed over him during recovery all the while plying him with enough tea to sink a battleship, gave him an impudent look. “You agreed it was my call.”
“That I did,” he said, folding his arms and leaning against the wall. He’d obeyed the doctor’s restrictions to the letter. Three weeks of rest following the surgery. Then months of physical therapy four times a week coupled with strength-building exercises, walking, and icing his back regularly. Dedication and Claire had kept him on the right path, and she’d agreed he was ready to get back in the training ring with the horses right after Christmas.
Today, she’d said he was ready to ride. Drinking in her beauty, he felt a stroke of heat roll through him from head to toe. Even the erection straining against his jeans was a welcome addition. Surgery hadn’t fixed everything—he would still have bad days—but his good days at last outnumbered his bad, and Claire had finally moved in with him.
“Did Tanner tell you our first guests will be arriving in April?” Their plans for bringing veterans in to work with the therapy horses was up and running. Claire had four horses she declared ideal, and they had another four well on their way to being trained. The Colonel had stunned everyone by securing funding from a dozen different veterans’ organizations to underwrite their first year—guaranteeing Claire a full-time paid position.
“He did,” Mateo answered. His Lady-o was running out of delay tactics. “The cabins will be ready. They got the frames, sides, and roofs up. It’s all interior work.” Which was good. Texas winters might be mild compared to up north, but it had been wet and windy this year—which was part of the reason she’d insisted his first ride be in the indoor arena.
“All right,” she said, finally satisfied. “Let’s do this.”
Pushing away from the wall, he cupped her nape, then bent his head to kiss her. “I love you, beautiful. It’s going to be great.”
“I know it is, but I worry. I know what this means to you, and I don’t want you to go too fast too soon.”
“What it means to both of us,” he reminded her, then stroked a finger down her cheek. “One step at a time. Dr. Rhodes signed off. Tony the Physical Torturer signed off. I’m ready babe.”
He couldn’t deny the excitement in his gut, or the surge of hope. Sin was his baby—he’d gentled her and gotten the saddle on her back. Claire had handled her under saddle training while Mateo supervised—first with advice on the videos she’d brought, then from the comfort of a chair while he continued his recovery, and eventually walking with her as she rode.
“You should be nicer to Tony—he’s one of the reasons you’re here today.” A glint shone in her eyes.
No, he would not be nicer to his physical therapist. “He calls himself my torturer, and we both agree on that subject.” Side by side, Mateo and Claire walked from the stalls toward the entry to the arena. Claire held on to the reins as she guided the mare inside. Once they closed the gate into the stalls, she walked Sin forward another couple of steps.
With a gentle hand sweep downward she said, “Down, pretty girl.”
Sin eased to the ground, folding her legs beneath her, and Mateo raised his eyebrows, impressed as hell. “That’s new.”
“It was our little secret.” His girl gave him a smug, knowing look. “Almost impossible to keep, but Tanner helped out.”
Mateo’s jaw dropped a fraction. “I have you to blame for all those contractor meetings?”
“Guilty.” She lifted her shoulders in a mock shrug. “I wanted to be sure you had no trouble, and while I have every faith in you, this is your first ride: if you pull something climbing onto her back, it will spoil it.”
Her determination to protect him while making his dreams come true added yet another layer of wonder to his affection. “Thank you.”
“Well, get to it,” she urged, then clasped her hands together as she retreated a couple of steps. The demonstration of faith in his ability buoyed him further.
“Lady-o,” he said, pausing as he glanced from Sin to the woman he loved. “No matter what happens today, I’m not giving up. We’ve made it this far, and I have no intentions of going back. If it means we wait another six months to get me in the saddle again, then we wait another six months.”
It didn’t mean it wouldn’t sting. He loved the ranch. He loved his horses. He loved riding. But he loved her and their life together more. Time was on his side.
With great care, he turned to Sin. “All right, little lady, thank you,” he murmured as he straddled the saddle and sat. Knowing Claire, he firmed his grip on the reins, then said, “Up, sweetie.” The mare rose with effortless grace, and when she stood, Mateo slid his booted feet into the stirrups.
The feeling of the leather saddle beneath him and the power of the horse he sat astride filled him with enormous satisfaction. Claire lifted her clasped hands to her lips, tears shimmering in her eyes.
Adjusting his hat, he winked at her, then tapped his heels once to Sin’s sides. The mare set off on a walk as smooth as glass. It was his first time in the saddle in years, and every step felt like the triumphant beat of a drum. His heart hammered in quiet joy. When he completed the first circuit, he slowed to a stop next to Claire.
Her radiant smile warmed him like the summer sun.
“You know what comes next, right?” The next goal on his bucket list was within his grasp.
She laughed. “You were the one who said we had to wait till you were back in the saddle.”
But when he held out his hand and moved his left foot from the stirrup, she grasped his hand, then put her foot into the stirrup and slid onto the saddle behind him. The weight of her against him acted like a tonic for his senses, a sensuous comfort. He stroked her hands where they rested against his abdomen, then dug his fingers into his pocket. Pulling out the diamond solitaire ring, he held it up. “I promise you, this has been burning a hole in my pocket for months.”
Biting her lip, she extended her fingers. He’d told her at Christmas he wanted to ask, and she’d told him she wanted to say yes. They’d had to wait until after his surgery and recovery—at his insistence, not hers.
“You blew into my life like a spring storm, all electricity and fierce wind. You chased away the clouds with an even brighter sunshine—you even taught me to love tea. You believed in me even when I’d forgotten how to believe in myself. Claire Windsor, will you marry this stubborn cowboy?”
“How do you say it?” she said, teasing. “Hell, yes.”
Then he slid the diamond onto her ring finger. “I think we might make a little Texan out of you yet.”
Claire wiggled her fingers. Damn, his ring looked good there.
Pressing a kiss to his neck, she settled her hands on his hips. “Show me how it’s done, stud.”
He loved it when she spoke dirty to him in her prim accent. “With pleasure, mi alma.”
Giving Sin another light tap, he rode toward the gate to the outside. Sunshine greeted them, and the cold wind couldn’t dampen his joy. His parents, Tanner, Jules, and even the Colonel waited for him, and they applauded as he and Claire appeared astride Sin.
It was the second-best day of his life.
The first had been when a bold and brassy Brit stormed into the barn and his life, declaring she was there to change everything.
And damned if she didn’t.