didn’t know better, he would think it was his protective streak stirring to life. But he did know better. Corie had stomped it right out of him. She’d told him over and over: in this day and age, women wanted a lot out of life. Being a wife and mother wasn’t everything. She didn’t need a man to define who she was or protect her. His ex-wife’s putting her money where her mouth was and leaving had hit him like a truck and Dev had gotten the message loud, clear and painful. He could stand back and let Hannah do her thing just fine, thank you very much.
But he stood behind her, close enough that he could smell the fragrance of her—something floral and sassy mixed with soap. Her blond hair was tucked through the opening in the back of her hat and trailed down, skimming her shoulder blades. He wanted to free the silken strands and run his hands through them. Warmth radiated through him and sweat popped out on his forehead. So much for giving her an early lesson before it got hot.
“What do I do now?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder and up at him.
He swallowed—hard. “Just what you’re doing. Let him get used to you.” And me too, he thought. Damn that rusty tone in his voice. With any luck, she was too preoccupied with Trouble to notice.
“I think it’s more like me getting used to him,” she said nervously. “After all, he’s bigger than me. By a lot.”
So was Dev. A fact that fueled his pesky, persistent, protective streak. “I won’t let him hurt you,” he promised.
It was on the tip of his tongue to add that he would never let anything hurt her. But he held back. A fact for which he was really grateful. He didn’t want another woman in his life. Especially a career woman like Hannah.
“I appreciate that. Although if he takes it into his head to pulverize me, I’m not exactly sure how you could stop him.”
“Even if something spooks him, usually there’s warning. Time to get out of the way. There are signs. Restlessness. Shifting. Snorting. Same things that happen to you and me when we get rattled,” he said.
“God knows I snort when I get riled up,” she said.
“And here I thought you were brighter than the average bear. How intelligent is it to smart-mouth your tutor?”
“You tell me. I learned from you.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“Selective memory. It’s a condition that affects a lot of men,” she added.
“Male bashing is not the best way to win friends and favorably influence your riding teacher. But I’m going to take the moral high ground and not hold it against you. Right now Trouble is just standing there as peaceful as you please.”
“I’ll ignore the contradiction in terms of that last statement,” she said as she continued to stroke the horse’s neck.
For several minutes, he just let her do that while the slender, delicate, elegant, smooth curve of her neck tortured him with wondering what that spot would taste like.
Good God Almighty! What in the world had gotten into him? This—whatever it was—was just plain nuts. The sooner he got her on a horse and fulfilled his fool’s promise, the better. He’d just learned another lesson from Hannah. Don’t be too quick to offer a riding lesson to a pretty, big-city, lady doctor.
“Okay,” he said abruptly. “I think it’s time to climb up on Trouble and see how it feels.”
“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” She hesitated for a moment, her hand resting on the horse’s neck. “What do I do?”
“One hand on the horn, left foot in the stirrup and haul yourself up, swinging the right over his rump. Easy as falling off a log.”
She slid him a look over her shoulder. “No form of the word ‘fall’ should be spoken in this conversation.”
“My mistake.” He held back his grin until she glanced away.
“Mistake is another word I don’t want to hear.”
“How about ‘just do it’?”
“Words to live by,” she said, but her voice was tight.
She followed his instructions and hauled herself up a little awkwardly. As badly as he wanted to put his hands on her waist and help, he kept his arms at his sides. In spite of the fact that she was stiff as last Sunday’s corn bread. Apprehension was written all over her, from the tense shoulders down to her shapely little fanny.
“Everything’s fine, Hannah,” he said, trying to reassure her.
“You’re not leaving me up here by myself, are you?” she asked from her perch in the saddle.
He wanted to. But he was the one who’d started this. His daddy hadn’t raised a quitter. Next time, he’d be more careful not to let his mouth write checks that his body would be foolish to cash.
“Nope.”
He took her small, sneakered foot out of the stirrup and stuck his boot in. Holding onto the horn, he swung up onto the horse’s rump, letting her have the saddle all to herself. He successfully fought the urge to put both arms around her. But with his chest to her back, he could feel her shaking. In spite of all his warnings, his hands went to her waist, just to steady her he told himself.
“Relax,” he said, close to her ear, stirring the wisps of golden hair that had slid out from her hat.
She shivered and he assumed it was from fear, since Texas wasn’t even close to cool this time of year. It surely didn’t have anything to do with him and the fact that they were as close as two peas in a pod.
“Relax,” she repeated, as if she were memorizing physics properties. “Focus.”
He picked up the looped reins he’d rested around the saddle horn, then held them out. “These are connected to the bit in his mouth. Pull on the right to make him go that way. Left turns him in that direction. Grip with your knees to keep from bouncing. Your backside will thank you later.”
“You make it sound easy enough,” she said. “I think I’ve got the hang of it. That’s probably enough for today. All that information is just buzzing around in my head. My mind is fairly spinning.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Wouldn’t want to overdo it.”
“Lucky for you I’m here.”
“Why lucky? Aside from the fact that if he throws us, you’ll go first to cushion my fall.”
“Because you can’t get down unless I do. And I don’t plan on it until I know you’re not going to give up on this.”
“I don’t understand why that’s so important to you.”
He shrugged, beyond trying to come up with a reasonable answer, even for himself. To her he said, “Because it’s a damn shame that a girl born and raised in Destiny, Texas, is afraid of a horse. You’ll give the town a bad name.”
“If it’s any consolation, I wasn’t raised here very long. I left for college when I was sixteen.”
“Doesn’t
