RaeAnne Thayne - The Pines Of Winder Ranch

He laughed out loud, which earned him a frown from Jo.

“You didn’t need to drag poor Tess up here with us,” she reprimanded in the same tone of voice she had used when he was fifteen and she caught him teasing Easton for something or other. He could still vividly remember the figurative welts on his hide as she had verbally taken a strip off him.

“She’s a big girl,” Quinn said in a voice too low for Tess to overhear. “She didn’t have to come.”

“You’re a hard man to say no to.”

“If anyone could do it, Tess would find a way. Anyway, we’ll be there in a few more moments.”

Jo looked over his shoulder at Tess, then shook her head. “Poor thing. She obviously hasn’t had as much experience riding as you and Easton and the boys. She’s a good sport to come anyway.”

He risked another look behind him and thought he heard her mumbling something under her breath involving creative ways she intended to make him pay for this.

Despite the lingering sadness in knowing he was fulfilling a last wish for someone he loved so dearly, Quinn couldn’t help his smile.

He definitely wouldn’t forget this night anytime soon.

“She’s doing all right,” he said to Jo.

“You’re a rascal, Quinn Southerland,” she chided. “You always have been.”

He couldn’t disagree. He couldn’t have been an easy kid to love when he had been so belligerent and angry, lashing out at everyone in his pain. He hugged Jo a little more tightly for just a moment until they reached the trailhead for Windy Lake, really just a clearing where they could leave the horses before taking the narrow twenty-yard trail to the lakeshore.

“This might get a little bit tricky,” he said. “Let me dismount first and then I’ll help you down.”

“I can still get down from a horse by myself,” she protested. “I’m not a complete invalid.”

He just shook his head in exasperation and slid off the horse. He grabbed the extra rolled blankets tied to the saddle and slung them over his shoulder, then reached up to lift her from the horse.

He didn’t set her on her feet, though. “I’ll carry you to Guff’s bench,” he said, without giving her an opportunity to argue.

She pursed her lips but didn’t complain, which made him suspect she was probably more tired than she wanted to let on.

“Okay, but then you’d better come back here to help Tess.”

He glanced over and saw that Tess’s horse had stopped alongside his big gelding but Tess made no move to climb out of the saddle; she just gazed down at the ground with a nervous kind of look.

“Hang on a minute,” he told her. “Just wait there in the saddle while I settle Jo on the bench and then I’ll come back to help you down.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding more disgruntled than apologetic.

“No problem.”

He carried Jo along the trail, grateful again for the pale moonlight that filtered through the fringy pines and the bare branches of the aspens.

Windy Lake was a small stream-fed lake, probably no more than two hundred yards across. As a convenient watering hole, it attracted moose and mule deer and even the occasional elk. The water was always ice cold, as he and the others could all attest. That didn’t stop him and Brant and Cisco—and Easton, when she could manage to get away—from sneaking out to come up here on summer nights.

Guff always used to keep a small canoe on the shore and they loved any chance to paddle out in the moonlight on July nights and fish for the native rainbow trout and arctic grayling that inhabited it.

Some of his most treasured memories of his teen years centered around trips to this very place.

The trail ended at the lakeshore. He carried Jo to the bench Guff built here, which had been situated in the perfect place to take in the pristine, shimmering lake and the granite mountains surrounding it.

He set Jo on her feet for just a moment so he could brush pine needles and twigs off the bench. Contrary to what he expected, the bench didn’t have months worth of debris covering it, which made him think Easton probably found the occasional chance to make good use of it.

He covered the seat with a plastic garbage bag he had shoved into his pocket earlier in case the bench was damp.

“There you go. Your throne awaits.”

She shook her head at his silliness but sat down gingerly, as if the movement pained her. He unrolled one of the blankets and spread it around her shoulders then tucked the other across her lap.

In the moonlight, he saw lines of pain bracketing her mouth and he worried again that this ride into the mountains had been too much for her. Along with the pain, though, he could see undeniable delight at being in this place she loved, one last time.

He supposed sometimes a little pain might be worthwhile in the short-term if it yielded such joy.

As he fussed over the blankets, she reached a thin hand to cover his. “Thank you, my dear. I’m fine now, I promise. Go rescue poor Tess and let me sit here for a moment with my memories.”

“Call out if you need help. We won’t be far.”

“Don’t fuss over me,” she ordered. “Go help Tess.”

Though he was reluctant to leave her here alone, he decided she was safe with the dogs who sat by her side, their ears cocked forward as if listening for any threat.

Back at the trailhead, he found Tess exactly where he had left her, still astride the mare, who was placidly grazing on the last of the autumn grasses.

“I tried to get down,” she told him when he emerged from the trees. “Honestly, I did. But my blasted shoe is caught in the stirrups and I couldn’t work it loose, no matter how hard I tried. This is so embarrassing.”

“I guess that’s the price you pay when you go horseback riding in comfortable nurse’s shoes instead of boots.”

“If I had known I was going to be roped into this, I would have pulled out my only pair of Tony Lamas for the occasion.”

Despite her attempt at a light tone, he caught something in her stiff posture, in the rigid set of her jaw.

This was more than inexperience with horses, he realized as he worked her shoe free of the tight stirrup. Had he really been so overbearing and arrogant in insisting she come along that he refused to see she had a deep aversion to horses?

“I’m sorry I dragged you along.”

“It’s not all bad.” She gazed up at the stars. “It’s a lovely night.”

“Tell me, how many moonlit rides have you been on into the mountains around Pine Gulch?”

She summoned a smile. “Counting tonight? Exactly one.”

He finally worked her shoe free. “Let me help you down,” he said.

She released the reins and swiveled her left leg over the saddle horn so she could dismount. The mare moved at just that moment and suddenly his arms were full of warm, delicious curves.

She smelled of vanilla and peaches and much to his dismay, his recalcitrant body stirred to life.

He released her abruptly and she wobbled a little when her feet met solid ground. Out of instinct, he reached to steady her and his hand brushed the curve of her breast when he grabbed her arm. Her gaze flashed to his and in the moonlight, he thought he felt the silky cord of sexual awareness tug between them.

“Okay now?”

“I...think so.”

That low, breathy note in her voice had to be his imagination. He was almost certain of it.

He couldn’t possibly be attracted to her. Sure, she was still a beautiful woman on the outside, but she was still Tess Claybourne, for heaven’s sake.

He noticed she moved a considerable distance away but he wasn’t sure if she was avoiding him or the horses. Probably both.

“I’m sorry I dragged you up here,” he said again. “I didn’t realize how uncomfortable riding would be for you.”