Christy

I stand in front of my closet, totally uninspired by everything I see. Chet told me to dress practically for the evening, which means the cute little sundress that shows off my legs but hides my soft stomach is off the table, as are the sandals that put my freshly painted toe nails on display. If this is technically our first date, I want to dress to impress and none of my practical clothes feel all that impressive. In the end, I settle on the Levi’s that Mark hated so much and a form fitting button-up top. I add a little curl to my hair and swipe on some light makeup and study my handiwork in the mirror. All in all, I’m pleased with the result.

I purse my lips and make my best sex-kitten face. “How’s that for practical, Mr. Wilde?” I ask my reflection and then sigh and shake my head. I get weird when I get nervous and making funny faces and talking to myself definitely falls into the weird category. I need to calm down or I’ll make a fool of myself tonight.

I grab my phone and swipe away several unread messages from Mark, sling my purse over my shoulder, and head out to the truck. If it was just a little bit warmer, I’d roll down the windows for the ride over and let in some fresh air, but it’s still a little too cool for that. I turn on some music and sing along at the top of my lungs, dancing in my seat as the sun shines down from the blue sky. I don’t think I’ll ever regret moving out here. I’m continually awestruck by the scenic beauty.

I pass the main house at the Wilde ranch and pull up in front of Chet’s place. He’s waiting for me on the wraparound porch, leaning back in one of two rocking chairs, his feet kicked up on a small table and crossed at the ankles. Happiness surges through me at the sight of him and I kill the ignition before I’m even done singing my favorite song.

His eyes dance merrily as I hop out of the truck and slam the door. “That was quite a show,” he says.

Gravel crunches under my boots as I walk to him. “What was quite a show?”

“You.” Chet stands. “Up in that truck. Singing along and dancing to whatever it was you had on the radio.”

“You saw that?” I shove my hands in my back pockets and try not to laugh at myself. I’d hoped the singing and dancing would get all the weird out of my system.

“The tint must not be as dark as you thought.”

My cheeks go warm and I bite my bottom lip. “Well, good then. If me being happy makes you happy, then that seems like everyone wins.”

“You don’t have to be singing and dancing to make me happy. Just being with you does the trick.” Chet steps off the porch and makes his way to me.

“You sure do know just what to say to make me feel good, you smooth talker you.”

“Gabe would laugh his ass off if he heard you say that.” Chet puts his hand on my back and guides me towards the barn. “There’s nothing smooth about me. I call it like I see it. Guess today that worked in my favor.”

“I think that’s part of what I like about you so much,” I say as we step inside, blinking as I adjust to the low light. “There’s no guessing with you. You just are who you are. It’s refreshing.”

“We’ll see how you feel about that in a couple weeks.” Chet drops me a wink and then stops in front of Henrietta’s stall. “I thought we’d go for another ride.” He leans on the door as Henrietta steps forward to greet us, whickering gently. “How are you doing this fine afternoon?” he asks the mare, running a hand along her muzzle. “Feeling good and ready to go?” He gives her a pat and then turns to me. “I think she missed you.”

“Oh, yeah? How can you tell?”

“Because she and I have always seen eye to eye.” Chet grins and holds my gaze. “Hope you don’t mind, I took the liberty of saddling her up ahead of time.”

“Why would I mind, silly?” I step into the stall with Henrietta and run a hand down her side, whispering reassurances to her as I grab her reins. Being around animals, especially large ones, always soothes me. Maybe I don’t have to worry about my nervous energy turning me into a fool, after all.

Chet takes the lead as soon as we’re in the saddle. The last time we rode together, he took it easy on me. This time, he doesn’t hesitate to put me through my paces. As soon as we’re out in the pasture, he turns and gives me a devilish look. “Think you can keep up?” he asks.

“Think I can keep up?” I shake my head. “Oh, Chet. I know I can keep up.”

Chet raises his eyebrows. “Well, let’s see then.” Without another word, he turns around and hunkers down. Midnight responds to his cue and breaks out of his trot into a spirited canter and the distance between us lengthens at an alarming rate. I goad Henrietta to follow and she does, though her quieter nature is evident in how long it takes her to get to speed. We chase Chet across the field, the wind rushing through my hair as the landscape blurs around us. By the time we catch Chet, I’m winded and beaming and my nose and ears are chilled by the cool wind.

“I miss riding,” I say as I guide Henrietta to a stop. “I didn’t have much time for it back in Pennsylvania.”

“Henrietta could use a dedicated rider. I’m sure she’ll appreciate the chance to get out anytime you want back in the saddle.”

I pat the horse on the shoulder. “I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship, don’t you agree?” I intended to make the statement to the horse, but whatever this is that’s growing between Chet and me feels pretty damn beautiful as well.

Henrietta tosses her head and paws at the ground.

“Looks like she agrees.” Chet studies me. “I think I do, too.” He uses the reins to guide Midnight along a trail that looks vaguely familiar. I follow him down a winding path and across the same tricky part in the creek that we crossed the last time we rode. Before long, we break through the trees and the twisted pine I loved so much stands out in the open meadow. We cross the field and stop in front of the tree.

There’s a red and white checkered blanket stretched out in the grass with a picnic basket beside it. Leaning against the basket is a bottle of wine. A few feet in front of that is a fire ring with a stack of firewood waiting at one side. Chet dismounts and then offers me his hand as I climb down off my horse. His skin is warm against mine and his proximity sets my body on fire. My heart races and my chest heaves and there’s no way he can’t see how he’s affecting me. I meet his eyes as he cups my face and runs a thumb along my cheek. His eyes go to my lips and then he bends to kiss me.

I breathe him in and melt against his body, chills running down my spine as he presses his hands into my back. I part my lips and tilt my head, opening myself to him, giving myself to him. My core lights on fire, warm and molten. I forgot what it felt like to want someone as much as I want Chet right now.

He pulls away. “I could do that all night,” he says.

Then do it, I think. Don’t stop. Don’t let me go. Kiss me until I forget how to breathe.

“Me too,” I say, embarrassed by my thoughts.

“But, then, our food would get cold and that might ruin the evening.”

“I don’t think cold food would even come close to ruining this.” I step back and take in my surroundings. I was happy to spend the day with him and even happier to spend it with him on the horses, but knowing he took the time to set all this up? That’s just icing on the cake.

Chet takes my hand and leads me to the blanket. “I took a chance on the wine.” He opens the basket and pulls out two wine glasses, a bottle opener, two plates, some silverware, and then starts bringing out the food.

“Is that a pie?” I ask as I peer into the seemingly bottomless basket.

“It is. And you feel free to ask just how homemade it is.”

“You don’t seem like the pie making type.”

“I’m not, but my mother, Marie? She is. When she heard I was taking you out here, she was tickled pink to have someone new to cook for.” Chet pours two glasses of wine and then starts making a fire while I sit and watch him work. Peace settles over me as he places logs inside the fire ring and lights the kindling. Even when Mark and I were young and foolish and madly in love, I don’t think he ever went to this much trouble to make our time together feel special. But then, everything about Chet is the complete opposite of what I’m used to. With Mark, everything was focused on him. On his needs. On his likes and dislikes. Nothing mattered unless it affected him. If I was in a bad mood, he didn’t care at all about why I was upset, only that my bad day was making his day less enjoyable.

I can’t imagine Chet ever treating me that way. Everything about the man makes me believe he would put my needs above his time and time again. And the more I learn about him, the more I’m starting to wonder if our needs might be one and the same, that our wants and desires might line up ever so nicely.