Sunrise Canyon (New Americana 1)

Jake took a moment. He wasn’t crazy about climbing onto a contrary half-ton animal, capable of breaking every bone in his body; but a moonlight ride with Kira sounded like the perfect ending to the day. Besides, he reminded himself, he needed a favor in return.

“How about a deal?” he said. “I’ll agree to cowboy up and ride, if you’ll let me borrow your computer to find parts for the bike.”

“Sure. Anytime I’m not using the office. Just let me know ahead.” She gave him a roguish look. “And I’ll see you after dinner, cowboy.”

He watched her walk back to the house, admiring her lithe, confident stride. In the years since she’d been Wendy’s maid of honor, he’d never considered Kira his type. She still wasn’t a good bet for anything serious. He liked his women soft and yielding, focused on him and on their relationship—women like the one he’d married.

Kira was too driven, too independent. But, damn it, she was growing on him. She challenged him in intriguing ways, and there was something downright sensual in the lean strength of her body and the flickers of emotion that softened her face.

Kira.

Jake was looking forward to the ride.

CHAPTER TEN

Jake had been working steadily for the past hour. Now he paused to stretch, raked back his hair and massaged a twinging muscle in his shoulder. In the sky above Tucson, the sunset had deepened to violet and indigo.

Kira had come outside and was crossing the yard toward him. As she walked closer, Jake saw that she was holding a sandwich on a paper plate and a can of juice.

“Consuelo mentioned you hadn’t been inside,” she said. “A man’s got to eat.”

“Thanks.” He stripped off his leather gloves, took the plate and sat down on a handy wooden crate. He was hungry, and the sandwich—sliced prosciutto, with carefully layered tomato, romaine, pickles and Swiss cheese on rye—was delicious. “This is decadent,” he muttered between bites. “My compliments to Consuelo.”

“Consuelo was busy. I’m no domestic goddess, but now and then, I make an effort.” She gave him a smile. “Anyway, thanks for the backhanded compliment. Ready to mount up and ride?”

Jake stifled a groan. He was tired, sweaty and sore. The last thing he felt like was getting up on a horse for the first time. But he’d given his word. And he liked the way Kira looked with her shirt collar falling open and the twilight reflecting in her silvery eyes. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” he said.

He finished the sandwich, emptied the can and crossed the yard with her to the stable. After switching on the overhead light, Kira led Sadie, her blue roan mare, out of her stall. For Jake, she chose one of the extra horses, a drowsy-looking chestnut gelding.

“What’s his name?” Jake asked, eyeing the unimpressive animal.

“It’s Dynamite. But don’t let the name worry you. He was a great cow pony in his day. Now he’s the oldest trail horse on the ranch. He’s every inch a gentleman.”

“You wouldn’t be pranking me, would you?”

“Believe me, I need your help too much for that. Let’s get started.”

They collected their gear from the tack room and she showed him how to place the pad and the saddle on the horse’s back, buckle the straps, tighten the cinch and adjust the stirrups to his height. There was a lot to learn and remember. Getting the bridle on, with the bit in place, wasn’t easy; but, as Kira had said, the old chestnut gelding was a gentleman, accustomed to fumbling students. He endured Jake’s awkward efforts with barely a twitch of his gray-flecked ears.

“Mounting is easy if you do it right,” Kira said, demonstrating on her mare. “Left foot in the stirrup, push up and swing your right leg over, just like in the movies. Try it.”

Jake battled nerves as he put a boot in the stirrup. The boyhood memory of seeing his father thrown and trampled in the rodeo arena came back to him as if it had happened yesterday. As he swung his weight into the saddle, he half-expected Dynamite to live up to his name and explode into bucking fury. But the placid old gelding merely shifted, exhaled and waited for the command to move.

“Give him a little nudge with your heels, like this.” Kira demonstrated. “We’ll take it easy, once around the yard, before we head down the trail. That’s it . . . soft and light, just so he knows it’s time to go. Don’t worry about the reins at first. Just hold on. If Sadie and I go ahead, he’ll follow us.”

Swaying with each step, Dynamite ambled through the barn door and into the yard. By now, it was dark. The rising moon spilled light across the landscape. Kira rode a few yards ahead of him. Jake kept his eyes on her slim, erect back. She sat her horse like a queen, her pale shirt a beacon ahead of him in the darkness.

Jake envied her self-confidence. He hadn’t been keen on riding, but he took pride in doing things well. Now that he’d been forced into the challenge, he wasn’t about to settle for clinging to a geriatric horse that probably felt sorry for him. Whatever it took, he vowed, by the time he left this place, he would be a competent horseman.

“How are you doing?” Kira called over her shoulder.

“I think I’m getting the hang of it. But how do you steer this old boy?”

“Easy. You just move the reins in the direction you want him to go. That puts pressure on the bit, and he’ll turn to get more comfortable. Just a touch is enough. You don’t want to hurt his mouth.”

“And if I want him to stop?”

“You pull on the reins and say ‘whoa!’ Just a gentle tug—there’s no need to pull hard. Dynamite knows what to do.”