Deb Kastner - The Cowboy's Forever Family

He chuckled again and took her hand to steady her as they walked over the uneven soil. She allowed it, but only because the increase in her waistline made her steps ungainly. Laney might not be a country girl, but she was a native Texan and she knew the wild terrain was filled with treacherous bumps and hollows along the way.

As they crested the hill she saw why Slade was hedging. His mode of transportation was a horse, not a truck, contentedly grazing on the grassy knoll.

So much for a comfortable ride back to the house. Did he really expect her to get up on that thing, as pregnant as she was?

Slade whistled and the black mare lifted her head. A second whistle and she trotted to his side. It was the most unusual thing she’d ever seen.

“Let me introduce you to our ride,” Slade said, smoothing his hand over the horse’s mane as she nudged her muzzle into his shirt pocket. “This is Nocturne. She knows where I keep the sugar.”

Somehow the idea of Slade carrying sugar cubes in his pocket went against her image of him as an unfeeling, cold-hearted cowboy. Clearly his horse, at least, liked him, and that was saying something. Animals sensed when a human was the genuine article, didn’t they? Or maybe he just bribed Nocturne with sweets.

Slade checked the cinch. “You about ready to climb up here?”

Laney hesitated, then nodded. Mounting would be awkward with her rounded belly. Getting her foot into the stirrup would be next to impossible, but at least she’d changed into a pair of jeans before she’d left for her walk. It would have been considerably more awkward had she still been in the dress she’d been wearing earlier in the day.

She reached for the saddle horn, intending to attempt to slip her foot in the stirrup, but she never had the opportunity. Before she knew what was happening, Slade’s hands spanned her waist—or where her waist would have been seven months ago—and picked her up as if she weighed nothing. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he placed her onto the saddle.

“Are you gonna be more comfortable riding side-saddle or do you think you want to sling your leg over?”

Laney weighed his question in her mind. In her present condition, sitting on a horse period wasn’t the ultimate in luxury, but as to how she would ride—she supposed that had to do with a number of other factors, such as where, exactly, Slade intended to sit when he joined her. If, in fact, Nocturne could handle the extra burden of the two of them riding together. Slade wasn’t a small man.

She pictured herself being relegated to the “backseat” behind the saddle, clutching her arms around Slade’s waist and hanging on for dear life as he galloped home. Then again, if she was in front and he rode behind her, she would by default have those enormous, muscular arms of his wrapped around her. A wave of anxiety rolled over her just thinking about it. She didn’t know which would be worse. Certainly neither option even remotely appealed to her.

“I’m walking,” he said, answering the question she’d left unspoken. “So get comfortable. Whatever works for you.”

She sighed in relief. One less source of anxiety to deal with—for now. She thought she’d feel more comfortable riding astride so she swung her leg over the saddle horn.

Slade adjusted the stirrups for her height and then waited a beat for her to adjust her weight in the saddle before clicking his tongue to Nocturne. He strode forward without giving Laney so much as another glance. She noted that he followed the fence line, which would have been a good idea for her, as well. Assuming she’d found the fence in the first place. And even then she wouldn’t have known which direction to follow it. Still, it was something to keep in mind should she decide to wander off by herself again.

She tried to observe the countryside, to look for landmarks she could use on future outings, but there was nothing to hold her interest and her gaze kept returning to Slade. Thick black hair curled from under the brim of his hat. His broad shoulders sloped into a well-muscled back which then narrowed to a trim waist. He had the build of a perfect athlete and moved like one, too, his stride long and energetic, and yet with the easy country swagger that had clearly melted many ladies’ hearts.

Too bad his mouth and his attitude went along with that easy-on-the-eyes profile. Laney pitied the women who’d tried to take Slade on.

Thankfully, he didn’t realize she was staring at him. He appeared completely oblivious even to her presence, walking and whistling softly as if he were alone on the grassy plain. He held Nocturne’s reins in a loose grip but it was clear his horse would have followed him anyway, lead or not.

Sugar. It was the sugar.

Laney estimated they’d been heading back toward the house for about ten minutes when she first noticed the sky turning into a watercolor painting of pastel pinks and blues, with hues of yellow and orange undertones mixed into a breathtaking combination. The most gifted painter ever born could not have duplicated such a sight, and Laney offered a silent prayer of thanks to the Lord for His handiwork.

Even as she breathed amen , she realized the flaw in Slade’s rescue strategy. While he’d thankfully saved her from the embarrassment of riding with her, he’d overlooked one important detail.

“I appreciate you helping me out this afternoon,” she said, flinching both at the echo of her own voice breaking the silence and the fact that in all honesty she’d much rather have had nearly anybody in the world discover her. “But how is it that you think walking me home is any better than if I’d simply made the hike myself? It appears to me that we’re still going to get caught in the dark either way.”

He grunted and tossed a condescending look over his shoulder.

“What?”

“I’m bigger than you are.”

Seriously? “And that would relate to what I just asked you...how?”

“My stride. It’s much longer than yours. Quicker, too, I’d imagine, given your condition. We’re going to get there faster than if you were walking on your own. In fact, we’ve almost arrived. You’ll be able to see the Becketts’ house in just a few minutes.”

Laney scoffed and shook her head. She didn’t see how Slade could make a ridiculous claim like that and make it sound like a fact. Yes, they were still following the fence line, but the fence—and the land—all looked the same. How could he possibly tell where they were in relation to the house?

“You sound mighty sure of yourself.”

“I am.”

Even though Slade couldn’t see her, she rolled her eyes. Exasperating man.

“You didn’t even know where you were going, Laney. You would have wandered around in circles all night.”

Point taken. But he didn’t have to rub it in.

“And you’ve got to watch out for Brody’s kid.”

As if he had to remind her. Feeling as if he’d just jabbed at her, she instinctively laid a protective hand across her belly. She didn’t like the way he’d just referred to her precious unborn child as the kid . And Brody’s kid, as if she had no part in the baby at all.

“Stop,” she hissed as her anger escalated. Heat expanded through her chest and pressed into her head.

He turned and removed his hat, dabbing sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. “What?”

“Before we get back to the ranch house, I want to make something perfectly clear to you.”

His shoulders visibly tightened and he frowned. “And that would be?”

“Brody’s parents have been through enough grief without you making unfeeling remarks about their grandchild. This baby is bringing hope, peace, and—pray God—maybe eventually even a little happiness into their lives. I won’t have you upsetting them with your thoughtless implications.”