Little Red's Riding (Seven Ways to Sin 4)

He looked concerned. The softness of his features was replaced with seriousness and reflection. His lips puckered as if he were about to whistle, but he merely exhaled slowly and thoughtfully.

Damn, I should be getting this on film.

“And how are you doing?” he said, taking a step toward me.

How am I doing? I’m about to faint. You better run over here, cowboy, and catch me before I fall.

I bit down nervously on my lower lip. “Never better,” I said.

He passed the pitchfork to his free hand then tilted his head to the side, grabbed his neck, and rubbed at it. I watched his fingers work into his muscle, moving and molding his skin as if it were hard clay.

I passed my tongue over my lips, and that wasn’t the only wetness I felt.

“You want I show you around?” he said.

“Yes,” I replied, far more eagerly than intended. “But what about Wolf?”

He chuckled then raised his pitchfork. “I’ll ward him off with this.” He waved me over to him. “Come on. You can help me dress Oakley.”

“Gladly.”

He offered me his arm. I hooked my arm in his, and together we entered the stables like a happy couple out for a Sunday stroll.

Oakley was a stoic white-hooved gelding that came to the stable door at our approach.

“Hello there, Oakley,” said Wyatt, putting a hand to the gelding’s forehead. “I’d like you to meet a friend of mine. Oakley, this is Ruby.” Then to me, he added, “Ruby, this is Oakley.”

There might have been a dozen stablehands working there at the moment. There might have been a hundred Wolves spotting me and coming to yell at me for my intrusion. But at that moment, everything in my periphery vanished. Every other sound faded. It was just me, the beautiful horse I was petting, and Wyatt looking on with a smile at my side.

“You still race?” Wyatt asked me.

I shook my head with regret. “I haven’t raced in years.” Then I looked at Wyatt and tilted my head to the side. “Wait. How did you know I used to race?”

He chuckled, removed his hat, and wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand before putting his hat back on. “You still don’t remember me, do you?”

I put my hand on his arm. It was rock hard and warm to the touch. “I’m sorry, Wyatt. I wish I did. How could I not remember meeting someone like you?”

My words sounded so silly, so desperate. I took my hand from his arm and put it on my forehead. You sound like a child fawning over her favorite boy band, Ruby!

“It’s a good thing you don’t recognize me,” said Wyatt.

“Why? Did you behave inappropriately?”

He shook his head vigorously. “What, me? Never.”

I lowered my head and curled my lips, exaggerating my disappointment. “Well, that’s a shame.” He laughed, which gave me a sudden boost of confidence I was not used to. “But it’s never too late.”

“For what?”

I bumped him with my hips. “To act inappropriately.”

Oakley raised his head and neighed: horse for ‘get a room’.

“Do you have plans for Friday night?” he asked.

“Yep,” I lied.

“Well, cancel them. I’m taking you out.”

I leaned back, turned my head, and looked at him out of the corners of my eyes. “Cancelling my plans, that would be acting inappropriately, don’t you think?”

“Perfect,” he said then smiled at me wryly. “We’ll make it the theme of the night.”

8

Wyatt

I took Ruby to a fancy steakhouse in nearby Pinewood. That’s what you do when you want to impress a girl: take her to an expensive restaurant. Plus, for people in Magnolia, going to a restaurant in Pinewood bordered on the exotic. I was feeling quite confident about how the evening would go until, on the ride to Pinewood, Ruby started talking about her recent experiences in New York.

“New York City.” I shook my head. “I’ve heard good things about this steakhouse we’re going to, but I don’t suppose it can compete with anything in New York.”

“It’s not a competition,” she said.

I chuckled. “Easy for you to say.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you always win.”

She chuckled. “Is that what you think?”

I cocked my head to the side and thought it over. Should I tell her about how we used to race?

I decided that if she didn’t ask, I wouldn’t volunteer the information. Best to make a clean break with the past whenever opportunity allowed. Things were off to a good start between us, and I didn’t want to take the chance of her recalling a bad memory of that kid she used to beat back in the day.

“Is that what you want, tonight, Wyatt?”

“What’s that?”

“To win?”

I didn’t answer right away. We had arrived at the restaurant and I pulled into the parking lot. “Speaking of competition,” I said under my breath, as I parked my pickup next to a sleek silver sports car.