seat on Thunder’s muscular back. His fluid grace as he mounted told her he’d done this countless times, and it was as natural to him as breathing. She may not have been on a horse herself, but being a “true native,” she could deduce a real horseman.
Suddenly Thunder didn’t seem so frightening with Wade sitting confidently, almost negligently, in the saddle. She didn’t care how corny it sounded, he looked as if he’d been born there. And it was easy to see how the mystique of a cowboy had lured more than one feminine heart down the garden path.
Which she would do well to remember.
Instead her imagination rolled right over the warning. Wade carried the essence of a born-and-bred Texan male, something that couldn’t be purchased at a Western-wear store. All the boots leather could make would never endow the wearer with the long-limbed stride so much a part of Wade Mackey. Leah had little doubt he also held the code-of-the-West attitude that tended to make the feminist in her twitch; but at the same time, she felt a traitorous thrill when she wondered what it would be like to be loved and protected by this unapologetically alpha male.
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