One to Take (One to Hold 8)

“Finished?” I look up and see Mariska coming toward me. The color is back in her cheeks, and her strength seems fully returned.

“She’s done enough for today.” We walk her to the barn. “How are you feeling?”

“I have a little headache, but I feel a lot better.” She smiles up at me, and my chest tightens. If anything happened to her…

Jessie’s stall is right beside her mother’s. Once she’s inside, Freckles nickers and stamps around her corral. “Freckles should be ridden more. Part of her problem is being cooped up too long.

“Let’s do it then!” Mariska has climbed onto the rails and is watching as I brush Jessie’s neck.

I give her a glance then shake my head. “I don’t know.”

“My blood sugar dropped. I’m not sick!” She catches my shirtsleeve and pulls it. “I wanted to go to that lake where Patrick took us last year. You can ride Freckles, and I’ll saddle up Cheyenne.”

“I’ll saddle up Cheyenne. You can worry about the bridle.”

Her pink lips press together, but I brush that off. If she thinks she’s going to be stubborn with me, she’s got her work cut out for her. Still, it’s a good idea. We need to run the horses, so I relent.

Freckles is jumpy and pulls on the reins the entire way to the lake. I hold her at an easy canter because I don’t want Mariska riding at a full gallop. She’s not only pregnant, she’s inexperienced—something my little brother didn’t worry about last year.

I ease my horse

to a stop at the top of the last hill so we can look over the small valley with the large pond in the center. It’s in the opposite direction from the cabin but still about as far from the ranch house.

“In the winter it’s black,” Mariska says, pushing her hair back as she adjusts her seat on Cheyenne. “The grasses around it were brown, and it looked like something from another planet.”

“It changes with the season.” I turn Freckles to the side. She doesn’t want to stand still.

“It’s beautiful.” Mariska gives Cheyenne a nudge, and we start down the hill at an easy walk. Today the grasses are sage green and the water of the lake reflects the blue sky.

When we reach the clump of small trees near the bank, I leave Cheyenne’s reins loose on a scrub bush, but I have to tie Freckles to a branch. I don’t usually tie the horses, but she’s so flighty. I don’t want to have to tell Bill she ran away again—with all his tack.

Mariska takes off with a shriek. “Last one in is a rotten egg!”

Freckles dances in place, but I can’t help a laugh as I watch my fiancée stripping off her top and tossing it aside followed quickly by her bra. Her black mini is next, and in a flash of golden skin and wild chestnut hair she cannonballs into the water, creating a huge splash.

Since I’m clearly the rotten egg in this scenario, I take my time removing my boots and hat and leaving them by the horses. I asked Winona to pack us a snack just in case, and I take the towel off the back of my saddle.

Leaving my shirt with my boots, I walk out onto the weathered wooden pier, collecting discarded items of clothing as I go. Mariska is in the center of the lake dog paddling around.

“It’s so warm!” she calls out. “It was like ice last winter.”

“It was probably about to freeze before the Chinook blew in.”

“What are you waiting for? Get in!” She swims toward the end of the pier and holds the posts as she waits.

I can’t help smiling down at her. Her face is glowing, and she’s so damn happy. What happened earlier today seems far away. “Give me a second.”

Shrugging out of my jeans, I toss them aside and do a shallow-dive into the warm water. Mariska is on me in a second.

“You went commando!” Her bare breasts pressing against my chest cause a definite rise down below.

“We’re on vacation.”

“I wish that worked with bras.”

“You won’t hear me complaining.” I cup her breasts, rolling her nipples between my fingers and thumbs, watching her eyes darken.

Her slim hands cover mine, threading our fingers and pulling them away. “Hang on, I want to talk first.”