Taken (One to Hold 7.50)

“So what are we doing today?” She took another sip. “Besides more of the same, of course.”

“Glad you’re finally onboard with the program.” Another giggle from the bed. “Actually, there’s a lake close by. I’m pretty sure no one goes there but me.”

She was quiet, sipping. My eyes moved from the dying embers to her. She only watched me over the rim of h

er mug.

“I’d be very interested to know what you’re thinking right now, Miss….” I thought about it. “I don’t know your last name.”

“Heron.” Her reply was quiet. “I don’t know your middle name, Mister Knight.”

“William.”

“Same as your uncle?”

“It’s a family name.”

She took another sip, and I watched her thinking. “What’s your middle name?”

“Renee.”

“Mariska Renee Heron.” It rolled off my tongue like music.

“Stuart William Knight.”

Quiet again filled the cabin. Serious quiet. The exchanging of names. I ended that moment. “Do you feel like swimming?”

“Yes.” She sat up and placed her mug on the side table. Scooting to the edge of the bed, I caught the twinkle in her eye. “That should cover wet, and I’m sure at some point I’ll touch you.”

Damn if that didn’t provoke a rise in my jeans. “Is it still a bonus if it happens repeatedly?”

“Don’t be such a stickler for the rules, Stuart William.” She skipped across the room to where I sat, lightly kissing my lips. Things only became tighter across my fly.

“It’s who I am, Miss Heron.”

“Maybe some things can change, Mister Knight.”

Before we left for the lake, I checked in on Freckles. She’d stayed quiet in the shelter, and she wasn’t in danger of getting too cold. Horses in this part of the country developed longer coats that made them look almost plush. She nickered and pushed at me as I filled her food bag.

“Hey, girl.” I scratched behind her ear while she ate. “This is all your fault, you know?”

No response. She chewed as I remembered the day she reared on Mariska. I remembered the flash of adrenaline in my veins at the thought of that beautiful girl being hurt. It was only slightly less than my panic when Cheyenne returned riderless. The fucking protective instinct was only growing stronger the more time I spent around her.

Rebellious anger twisted in my gut as my mind insisted what had to be done. A knot ached in the front of my throat. This battle was different from coming off the drugs. Drugs sucker-punched me when I was down, hitting me with pain and nausea I couldn’t fight. What I was dealing with now was completely different, and I was stone-cold sober.

The swish of feet moving through the grass followed closely by the scent of ham and cheese broke through my angry thoughts.

“Hungry?” Mariska held out a small parcel wrapped in a paper napkin. Taking it from her, I recognized eggs mixed with a slice of the pork from dinner last night and cheese.

Taking it, I gave her a little nod of thanks. “I thought you didn’t like to cook.”

“Just because I don’t like to doesn’t mean I can’t.” She stood back and crossed her arms watching me.

Giving her a reluctant smile, ignoring the battle waging in my chest, I took a bite. Shit it was fucking delicious. “Mmm…” I couldn’t help a groan. Months of eating poorly were catching up with me.

She laughed and shook her head before going back to the house. “I’ll put on my swimsuit.”

Standing beside Freckles, I finished breakfast in three bites.