do I need to ride?”
“About two miles. Come on.” She turned her horse toward the narrow trail. “I’ll take you up there.”
He followed her slow pace and tried to keep his eyes on the trail and not her shapely bum. Thank goodness she wasn’t riding at a quicker speed, otherwise he’d be completely useless ogling her graceful movements in the saddle.
When the trail widened and he pulled up alongside her, she said, “I didn’t realize you were such an avid rider.”
“Did you already have set expectations of me?”
“I really didn’t know what to expect. The gossip magazines show you walking the red carpet and attending fabulous parties all over Europe. Of course, you’re rarely smiling in those pictures, so I didn’t know whether you disliked the photographers or if you’re just one of those stoic Brits who doesn’t know how to cut loose.”
Did he really come across as that stuffy? Sure, he didn’t always fancy the parties and the social commitments that came along with being a Fortune Chesterfield. But he smiled. Occasionally.
At least, he used to. Before his father’s death. Yet, he didn’t think mentioning this served any purpose. At the very least, it would put a damper on the present mood.
“Well, even the Brits know how to have fun,” he said.
“And what, Mr. Jensen Fortune Chesterfield, do you do for fun?”
“I play polo. I attend the symphony. And I’m thinking about taking flying lessons.” There he went with another reminder of his father. But instead of maintaining that painful topic, he changed the subject. “What do you do in your leisure time, Miss Amber Rogers—no relation to either Roy or to Rod?”
“I suppose you could say that I train and ride horses.”
“From what I read online, you were one of the best barrel racers last year on the pro circuit.”
“Oh, come now, you of all people know you shouldn’t believe every news story you read.” A flush of pink stole up her cheeks.
Was she embarrassed by her achievements? Or humbled by them? The tabloids had certainly exaggerated or downright lied about the things they often reported. But he assumed what he’d read about her was true.
“So then you haven’t won several national titles?” he asked, wanting to hear more about her rodeo life.
“Not national titles. Just a few state ones. I was on track to go to the nationals in Las Vegas, but midseason, Pop passed away, and I left rodeoing to come back to the ranch and help Gram run things.” Her eyes dimmed somewhat and took on a wistful gaze into the distance.
So he’d been right. She was being modest. From all accounts he’d read, she’d done very well in a short period of time and showed enough promise that the papers had expected her winning streak to continue. But she gave it all up rather quickly, and Jensen was learning the reason.
“Your grandparents raised you?” he asked.
“I was actually born in Lubbock, but my father died when I was five, and my mother and I moved in with his parents, Gram and Pop, after the funeral. Pop was a retired rodeo cowboy who bred and trained cutting horses. He was the one who trained me and encouraged me to follow my dream.”
It sounded similar to Jensen’s own father, who had encouraged him to play polo rather than follow family tradition and join the Royal Air Force. In fact, he and his father had been in the process of purchasing a polo farm and investing in a couple of prize mares from Argentina when Sir Simon died four years ago, taking some of Jensen’s dreams along with him.
“So you’ve put your future on hold to help run the family business,” he said.
“Pretty much. Besides the rodeo, I’ve never had much of a plan for my life. I mean, it’s not like Horseback Hollow is jumping with opportunities for barrel-racing rodeo queens. I always figured I’d end up back on the Broken R someday anyway, working with horses. I suppose you can say that I just started doing that a bit earlier than I expected.”
Jensen nodded. “When my father passed away, it forced me to step back and look at my life and what I ought to be doing with it. Someone had to take over the reins of the family investments and enterprises, as well as Chesterfield Ltd., and since I’d been educated and groomed to do so, I took the helm. Fortunately, I can handle a lot of it remotely—although, with the time difference, I’m working online and on Skype at some strange hours.”
“When do you sleep?” she asked.
“I find the time. I also take a nap now and then. The most important thing to me has always been my family, and now that my father’s gone, the responsibility of looking after them has passed along to me. Hence the reason I was so rude to you when you came to see Amelia the other day. I fear I’m terribly overprotective.”
Amber smiled. “I can understand that. I never had any siblings. You’re very lucky to have such a big family.”
“I try to remind myself of that, although it does take quite a bit of getting used to. As you may know, we only recently met all of our Fortune cousins, so I’m still coming to terms with such a large addition to the family.”
“But your British side of the family wasn’t all that small.”
No, it wasn’t. His mother had been married before—to Rhys Henry Hayes. It hadn’t been a happy union and had ended in divorce. The one good thing, though, was that it had produced Oliver and Brodie, Jensen’s older brothers.
Fortunately, his mum had met Sir Simon, the love of her life, soon after. Together they’d had Jensen, followed by Charles, Lucie and Amelia.
“I suppose a family of six siblings sounds pretty large to an only child,” he said.
“Large? I’d call it enormous. Do you get along?”
“Other than a few little tiffs now and again, yes. But I’d have to say we owe that to the parenting skills and the love of our mum and my father.”
They rode through a tree-lined summit that opened up to a pristine and scenic waterfall. The red rock cliffs surrounding the swimming hole provided a stunning backdrop to the calm blue water below.
“Here it is. Horseback Hollow’s hidden gem.”
“I can see why the residents would want to keep it private. It’s beautiful. Do you swim in it?” The thought of Amber Rogers in a two-piece swim costume stirred his blood in a way he hadn’t expected.
“Not this time of year.” She swung off her horse and tied the reins to a low-hanging branch of a nearby weeping willow tree. “But come summer, the place is hopping with kids and teenagers trying to beat the Texas heat. Personally, I like it best during the winter, when it’s quiet and empty and a person can just ride up here and be all alone with their horse and their thoughts.”
“Really? I wouldn’t have pegged you for the quiet and introspective type.” He regretted his word choice when she lifted a delicate brow at him.
“Do you picture me singing ‘Happy Trails’ around a campfire wearing fringes and a sequined hat
