She inserted his green eyes and easy grin into the picture, but before long the glib cowboy’s face transformed into the serious features of Kyle Jarreau.
She shook her head. That wouldn’t do.
“Give him a kick with your heels,” Denver called. “Get him trottin’.”
She settled down to learning to ride. A quick hard squeeze earned Loco’s attention. His ears flattened, but he set off at a trot, bouncing Alice up and down in the saddle. She grabbed the saddle horn, not caring that the move branded her as a tenderfoot. She was a tenderfoot.
Loco jogged along the rail. Alice’s rein hand jerked in time with the rest of her. She felt as if she was sitting on a jackhammer. “I—I—I’m g-gonna fall!”
Denver only chuckled. “You’re too tense. Loosen up. Go with him.”
I’m going whether I want to or not, she thought, but she tried to relax her rigid spine while still keeping her legs clamped to the saddle. The trot became easier to handle. More of an eggbeater than a jackhammer.
“Now let go of the horn,” Denver instructed.
Let go? Was he crazy? But she eased her grip. Thank God Loco was well trained, continuing to jog in a wide circle regardless of his precarious rider.
“Heels down. Settle yourself low in the saddle.”
Alice swallowed. Sweat poured off her. She was developing a stitch in her side from the relentless jostling. But she also felt a flicker of triumph. Horseback riding wasn’t so difficult, after all. Maybe she could meet other challenges, too.
“There y’go!” Denver crowed. “Settin’ mighty pretty.”
She lifted her chin to toss a smile at him. The second her gaze came unglued from Loco, so did her seat.
She fell so fast, she didn’t have a chance to save herself. She found herself sitting in the dirt, not sure how she’d got there, except that her tailbone said it hadn’t been a gentle trip. Loco had come to a halt in the corner of the riding ring, his reins trailing in the dirt.
Denver knelt beside her. “You okay, Allie?”
“I’m okay.” Her jaw ached where her teeth had jarred together. “What happened?”
“Loc put a little giddyup in his stride and you came a-cropper.”
“Oh. I fell off?” Apparently her brains had also been jarred. She spit grit out of her mouth. “I fell off while trotting? This is so embarrassing.”
“Nothin’ to be ashamed of.” Denver gave her a hand up. “It happens to everyone.”
“Even you?”
“Why, sure.” He smiled. “More times’n I can count.”
Alice wiped her face with the back of a wrist. She wished again she had a handkerchief. Why did no one carry handkerchiefs anymore? If Denver was truly the total package, he’d have been handy with a bandanna.
“Well,” she said, “at least I didn’t hurt anything but my pride.”
Denver chirruped to Loco. “You game to climb back aboard?”
“Do I have to?”
“It’s for the best. Y’can’t let fear set in.” He caught the reins and led Loco toward her. “Shoot, Allie. I was once thrown hard by a mean ol’ bronc name of Twister. Soon’s my collarbone healed, I was back on board spurrin’ the demon out of that stud. Won me a big old purse in the bargain.”
“I could use a new handbag,” she said, and Denver laughed, a deep guffaw that sounded more natural than anything that had come out of his mouth till then.
His eyes fixed on hers and she felt an odd familiarity in his steady gaze. “You’re somethin’ else, sweetheart.”
She smiled bashfully and took hold of the stirrup.
“Hold on.” He reached behind her and batted at her derriere, releasing a cloud of dust. Heat shot through her when his hand lingered, only for a moment, but long enough to turn her insides molten. “Can’t have you ridin’ dirty,” he said in a low voice. She shivered, despite the fever he’d created. “Not a sweet li’l thang like you.”
She bolted onto the horse, mounting with little grace but plenty of speed.
“Eager, ain’t cha?” Humor tilted Denver’s mouth. He swatted the horse’s back end. “Get on, then, Loc. Give our gal a nice smooth ride.”
The horse moved off. The cowboy walked in the other direction, talking to himself, though Alice heard every word. “I always did say it’s the quiet ones that surprise a man with their enthusiasm, once they get a taste for it.”
A TASTE . D ENVER’S words had stayed with Alice throughout the day, from her wobbly dismount off Loco after a jittery lope around the ring to her first experiment with a boogie board at the wave pool. She’d lived by the ocean her entire life, but the water in Maine was too cold for swimming or surfing. She’d never gained a toehold in the marina crowd, either, with their fancy sailboats and yachts. Dinghies had been her speed.
I want more than a taste. She dug her spoon into a sweet cloud of meringue. I want a full-course meal.
“That looks good.” Chloe pulled out a chair and sat opposite Alice. “Hiya. I see you worked up an appetite.”
Alice waved her spoon hello. She hadn’t felt like getting dressed up, so she’d chosen to dine in the less formal Blue Sage Bistro. “Everything is so good here. I’ve decided I’m going to work my way through the entire menu, including desserts.”
“Why not?” Chloe held up a file folder. “With all the activities I have planned for you, you’ll burn off every one of the calories.”
“I may resist the mesquite-smoked rattlesnake until the last night, then,” Alice admitted.
Chloe laughed. “How did you like the wave pool?”
“It was a challenge. I didn’t expect the waves to be so strong. Like a real surf.” Alice squirmed, aware of the aches and pains she’d accumulated in just one day. The wave machine had flipped her head over heels several times, until one of the lifeguards had shown her how to coast and paddle on the boogie board. “I’m not very athletic. I got knocked around some.”
“But it was fun, wasn’t it?” Chloe didn’t wait for an answer. “Are you ready for more?”
Alice licked raspberry purée from the corner of her mouth. “Bring it on.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” Chloe consulted the folder. “What do you say to a hike up Camelback Mountain? There’s a group leaving tomorrow morning at six.”
“That early?”
“You know what they say. Only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the noonday sun.” The sally seemed forced, as if Chloe had used it many
