A Proposal at the Wedding (Bride Mountain 2)

He took his time kissing her, apparently in no hurry to return to the ride. In this pretty spot with the music of nature serenading her and Paul’s arms warm around her, she could think of no reason at all to rush back to reality. She closed her eyes and savored every sound, every sensation, every inch of his body pressed to hers.

Her heavy lids rose again when eventually he separated their lips, though he kept his face close to hers. Their gazes locked and a slow smile tilted the corners of his mouth. “I’ve been wanting to do that ever since I picked you up this afternoon,” he confessed.

She smiled at him. “I’m glad you finally got around to it.”

He chuckled and brushed another light kiss over her upwardly curved lips. “You look really good on horseback. But then, you always look good.”

“And you are quite the smooth talker,” she replied, running a fingertip along his firm jawline. “But I’m not complaining.”

“I’m only speaking the truth,” he assured her. “Tim thinks I’m a lucky guy to have you here with me today. And I agree.”

Stewie flicked his tail and shifted his weight again, dislodging a little avalanche of pebbles. One of the turtles splashed noisily from the rock into the water, and Ace shook his head, perhaps shooing a fly, his tack rattling. Those sounds drew Bonnie’s attention, making her aware that the afternoon was rushing by. Paul sighed as if in silent acknowledgment.

“I guess we’d better mount up,” he said. “Come on, I’ll help you up.”

With one last lingering glance around the magical little glen, she turned and walked to her waiting horse.

The cloud cover had grown thicker by the time they eventually returned to the stables, so that it looked later in the day than it actually was. Bonnie could almost smell a hint of the approaching rain in the air. They needed rain for the gardens back at the inn, but she was always relieved when showers fell early in the week rather than weekends when weddings or other outdoor events were usually scheduled.

She kissed Stewie’s velvety nose and thanked him for being such an obliging mount for the pleasant ride. Stewie nodded and chuffed, which she decided to interpret as, “You’re welcome.”

“It was nice to meet you, Bonnie.” Tim tugged the brim of his Western-style hat in a charmingly old-­fashioned gesture. “You come back anytime, you hear?”

She promised him she would recommend his services to future guests of the inn now that she had checked out the business for herself. It was just over an hour’s drive from the inn, and she could assure anyone interested that it was an outing well worth the time and cost—though she noted that Tim refused to accept payment from Paul when it was offered.

Just in case the rain began sooner than expected, Paul put the top up on his car before driving out of the lot. Only ten minutes or so into the drive, he cleared his throat. “I know it’s a bit too early for dinner, but I’m hungry. How do you feel about stopping for a snack?”

She glanced at her watch. Though it was only a quarter till five, she was a little hungry, too. Maybe due to the ride, the fresh air or just the power of suggestion, but whatever the reason, she agreed. “I could eat.”

“There’s a pretty decent diner about five miles on down the road. The kids like to stop there for burgers or pie after a ride.”

“Sounds good.”

He nodded without looking away from the road. The section they were on was steep and winding with occasional drops off the sides beyond narrow gravel shoulders, requiring all his attention. It was beautiful countryside but a drive that called for caution, and she was pleased that he took their safety seriously. Unlike some reckless drivers, she thought with a disapproving shake of her head as two young people on a motorcycle, guy driving, girl clinging to his waist, buzzed around them from behind. They looked to be in their late teens or early twenties and appeared to be laughing because they’d passed the older driver in the yellow sport coupe. At least they were wearing helmets, though their shorts and T-shirts would do little to protect them in a fall.

“Moron,” Paul muttered, watching as the bike leaned almost sideways to disappear around the next sharp curve ahead. “If I saw anyone driving like that with my daughter on the back, I’d—uh…”

He grimaced. “Okay, maybe that sounded a little curmudgeonly.”

She shrugged. “I totally agree. He’s being reckless. I hope they don’t—”

Paul rounded the corner just in time to see the motorcycle wobble, fishtail, then skid over the edge of the road and out of sight.

Chapter Six

Paul slammed on the brakes and pulled his car to the side of the road. “Call 911,” he said, even as he turned on the emergency flashers and all but leaped out of the driver’s seat.

Bonnie scrambled after him, the phone already at her ear. Reaching the side of the road where the bike had gone over, Paul hesitated only long enough to look down through the broken and flattened brush at the top of the hillside that fell from the roadway. “Tell them to send an ambulance,” he said before disappearing into the matted foliage.

She was almost afraid of what she might see when she looked over after him once she’d been assured help was on the way. The hill wasn’t as steep as it had at first appeared, though the bike had still tumbled a good way down from the road. It lay in a crumpled heap against a tree. The riders had been thrown clear. She could see that the driver had tugged off his helmet and was struggling to sit up. Paul knelt beside the woman, who sprawled awkwardly on her back, her helmet still in place.

Bonnie slipped and stumbled as she made her way down to the others, but remained on her feet. “You should lie back down,” she said to the young man, who swayed as he struggled to rise. She rested a hand on his shoulder, wincing at the sight of his scraped and bleeding arms and legs. His right foot seemed to be twisted at an odd angle and she suspected his ankle was broken. She worried that there could be other injuries not as immediately apparent. “Just lie still. An ambulance is on the way.”

He turned his face to her, his dark eyes wide with shock and pain. His sandy hair was matted to his head, and his face h

ad gone pale beneath his tan. The helmet and face shield had protected his head, but she had no way of knowing if he had neck or spine injuries. “My girlfriend,” he mumbled. “Cheryl…”

“My friend is taking care of her,” she said firmly, nudging him back down to the rocky ground. “What’s your name?”