Sheri WhiteFeather - Once a Rebel

“None of this stuff is mine,” Ethan said. “My belongings are in storage. I’m waiting for escrow to close on the gentleman’s ranch I bought.”

“Gentleman’s ranch?”

“A property with less than a hundred acres,” he explained. “Where the owner makes his living at something other than ranching.”

“Did you sell your dad’s house after he died?”

Ethan nodded. “He’d already signed the deed over to me. But I just couldn’t live there anymore. Too many memories. I figured this was a good time to start over. But the escrow dates didn’t mesh, so that’s why I’m in between homes, renting this place from Ryan.”

“I live in a condo near the wharf,” she offered.

He searched her gaze. “Do you like San Francisco?”

As a montage of overworked days and exhausted nights spun through her mind, she contemplated her answer. “I fit in there.”

He pushed his hat back a little, revealing the expression in his eyes. An emotion she couldn’t quite name.

“You’re a city girl,” he said.

“I’m dressed like a country girl today. Wranglers instead of designer jeans.”

Her comment made him smile, but only for a moment. His intensity remained. She couldn’t think of anything to say, so she let the silence engulf them. Ethan had been a complicated boy, and he’d grown into a complex man. But she expected as much.

“Should we saddle the horses?” she finally asked.

“Sure.” He was still holding the food she’d prepared. “Country boys like me need to get out on the open range.”

“Sounds okay to me,” she teased. “I’ve always had a thing for you cowboy types.”

“I know.” He angled his head to look at her, to roam his gaze over her body. “Opposites attract. It’s a trick of nature. What gets us in trouble.”

Heat spiraled through her veins, making her sexually aware, reminding her of how long it had been since she’d had a lover, a man who meant something to her. But even so, Susan knew better. “We’re not in trouble.”

“Yes, we are,” he said, as he took her hand and led her outside, making her pulse pound all over again.

“Just because we’re attracted to each other doesn’t mean something is going to happen,” Susan said.

Ethan eyed his companion. They stood beside the hitching post, the sun glaring above their heads, raining warmth down their backs. Whom was she trying to convince? Him or herself? “If you say so.”

“I do.” She struggled with the girth. “Nothing happened when we were kids and nothing is going to happen now.”

He took over, nudging her aside, realizing she didn’t remember how to saddle a horse. “Nothing happened because I didn’t let it.”

“And I’m not going to let it happen this time,” she said.

He shrugged, told himself it didn’t matter. “I’m okay with just being friends.”

“So am I.” She turned to look at him, to ease the tension, to create a casual vibe.

But it didn’t work. Not for Ethan. He wanted to touch her, to smooth her hair away from her cheek, to brush his mouth across hers.

Friendship had its drawbacks, he thought.

He finished saddling their horses, then packed their picnic supplies.

“What’s my mare’s name?” she asked.

“Serene.”

“That’s a calm name.”

“She’s a calm horse. But she’s lazy, too.” He patted the old Appaloosa’s neck. “Of course, she plods along just fine on trail. She’ll follow Sequoia anywhere.”

“Sequoia.” Susan studied his gelding. “That fits him. He’s nearly as big as a redwood tree. The same color, too.” She leaned against the hitching post. “We have lots of redwoods in California.”

“I’ve never been there.” He wouldn’t mind taking a trip to the Sequoia National Forest, but that was as far as his interest in California went. He couldn’t imagine himself in Susan’s neck of the woods, traipsing around San Francisco like a misplaced cowboy.

She moved closer to Serene, letting the horse get to know her. Ethan watched her fuss with the mare’s mane, combing her fingers through it. Serene seemed pleased, but he figured the Appaloosa recognized a sucker when she saw one. Susan was babying her as if she were a child.

He squinted beneath the brim of his hat. “You’re spoiling her.”

“She’s already spoiled.”

“She came that way.”

Susan stroked Serene’s nose. “Oh, that’s right. You inherited her from one of your clients.” She bumped his shoulder, teasing him. “And now you’re stuck with her.”

“She needed a home. And Sequoia bonded with her.” He bumped Susan’s shoulder right back. “Do you need a boost up?”

“I can handle it.” She grabbed the horn and hoisted herself onto the mare’s back, the saddle creaking beneath her butt.

Ethan adjusted her stirrups. “How’s that?”

“Good.” She pushed her heels down. “I’m glad you invited me on a date. It’s nice to spend some time with you.”

“I think so, too.” He liked the changes in her, but he liked remembering her as she’d been, too. The girl he’d wanted to protect. The girl who’d needed someone to care.

Ready to hit the trail, he mounted his horse, wishing she’d give him a chance. He didn’t understand what harm would come from a romantic interlude, from a man and woman, two consenting adults, exploring the chemistry that had always been between them.

Chocolate wagged his tail and barked.

“You’re not coming with us,” Ethan told him.

The dog barked again, only louder this time. Then he whined and looked at Susan.

“Why can’t he come?” she asked.

“Because he’s a pest.”

“I don’t mind.”

“So you say. Just wait.”

“We can’t leave him here. Not like that.” By now, the Lab was practically pleading, howling like the con artist he was.

Most veterinarians owned animals that behaved. But not Ethan. He adopted every stubborn creature that came his way. “He’s going to try to mooch off our plates.”

“I’ll fix him his own plate.”

“That won’t pacify him, but I’m game if you are.” He started down the trail. Susan took the spot next to him, with Chocolate padding confidently beside her.

They rode on a sun-dappled path, their horses moving at a relaxed pace. The sky was the color of a robin’s egg, and the ground offered shades of brown and green. Most of the area was flat and clear, but in the distance, live oaks dotted the terrain like Texas-bred sentries. Farther out, a grouping of hills made a regal statement. Ethan loved this land. To him, it represented God’s country, a place where the world stopped to sigh.

Rabbits darted past, making Chocolate perk his ears. But the dog didn’t leave Susan’s side.

They headed for the live oaks, where they decided to have their picnic.

The path they traveled narrowed, so Susan fell into step behind Ethan. He could hear Serene’s footsteps as she picked her way through the brush.

Once they reached the oaks, the trail opened onto a grassy slope. “How’s this?” Ethan asked, stopping beneath an enormous tree, where branches reached across the sky.

“It’s perfect.”

After they dismounted, he tended to the horses and she spread a blanket on the ground, smoothing it over the bumpy surface.

Chocolate danced in canine delight, sniffing the air in anticipation, waiting for the foodfest to begin.

Susan looked up at Ethan. “Did you raise him from a pup?”

He glanced at the dog and the silly beast had the gall to grin. “No. I’ve only had him about six months. He was homeless and hanging out behind Red, the Mexican restaurant in town, begging for burritos and what-not. The owner felt bad for him, but he was making a nuisance of himself, barking at the back door all the time. My girlfriend, Amber, was a waitress there, so she brought him to me.”