Linda Goodnight - Home to Crossroads Ranch

Her reaction tickled him. “No. Not really. You are a greenhorn.”

“Am not,” she said amicably, and Nate wanted to tease her again. He liked teasing her. Liked her gullible reaction. He looked ahead where four children pranced around his grandpa, yapping like pups. He was glad they were up there with Pop and Rainy was back here with him. And no, he wasn’t going to examine that thought too closely.

“Bet you wouldn’t know a stirrup from a saddle horn,” he said, baiting her.

“Guess I’m going to find out, Mr. Smartie.”

Something in the way she sparkled with energy gave him pause. “What do you mean?”

“Your grandpa invited us back next weekend.”

Nate battled back a cry of protest and more than a little panic. He shot a look at his grandfather’s flannel-clad back. “He did?”

“Sure did.” Rainy tapped his arm with one finger. “To go horseback riding.”

Like a punctured balloon, all the air seeped out of Nate.

Without upsetting everyone—including his grandfather, who would never let him hear the end of it—Nate couldn’t refuse. He wasn’t that much of a jerk.

Uneasiness crawled over his skin like an invisible spider.

Of all the dangerous ideas, Grandpop would have to come up with this one. Horseback riding. Small children on the backs of very large animals with minds of their own.

A recipe for disaster.

He sneaked a glance at Rainy Jernagen’s upturned face. His belly dipped.

From the moment she’d opened that red front door looking like a combination of mother earth and the bride of Frankenstein, he’d known she was trouble.

He should have run while he had the chance.

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