he could still dish it out. “Give me a stallion, buddy, I can handle him.”
“I bet you can,” he murmured as he walked away.
ADAM RODE AHEAD OF THE BLACK gelding he’d saddled for Echo. Bagels was a spirited horse and under normal circumstances, Adam might have chosen another for what he guessed was an out-of-shape rider. But time was short and besides his own mount, Solar Flare, Bagels was the only horse in the barn even remotely suitable.
He smiled to himself at the phrase “out of shape.” One look at Echo De Gris in her jeans had confirmed what the earlier glimpse of her bare legs had blatantly announced. Whatever his cousin Echo was, she was also a damn good-looking woman.
Take the glossy short black hair that fell fetchingly across her forehead. Or her black-as-coal eyes, glinting with mischief. Or her slender back and strong arms. Before now his notice of her had been that of a slightly older boy stuck “babysitting” the brattiest little girl in the West. She’d matured into a very attractive woman if you didn’t count that willful streak of hers. Look at the way she’d coerced him into this ride.
“Hey up there,” she called.
He turned in his saddle to face her and caught a glimpse of her breasts jouncing softly as she rode. Nothing wrong with that, either. “What’s up?”
“What’s that little yellow building over there?”
“Ice fishing shack. We drag it over the lake when it freezes up, cut a hole in the ice and go to it.” He turned in the saddle, but she once again hailed him and he turned back.
“What about that house over there on the point?” She indicated with one hand and swayed slightly in the saddle. The gelding snorted.
“What about it?”
“It looks new. Whose is it?”
“Mine.”
“Hold up a minute,” she insisted. He rode to the top of the next rise and waited for her.
“I’m in a hurry,” he reminded her.
“Then ride, I’ll keep up. Tell me about this house of yours. It looks huge. You must be expecting to raise a big family.”
He shrugged.
“What’s your girlfriend think?”
“I don’t have a ‘girlfriend.’”
“Don’t you like girls?”
“Yes, I like girls,” he said. “There’s just no one special right now.”
“Did you build the house for the one that got away?”
“No one got away,” he said, casting her a look. “I haven’t met anyone…yet.”
“You built the house before you even met a girl you wanted to marry?”
He applied a gentle kick to Solar Flare to increase the speed. Echo did the same to her horse and managed to stay alongside him although her position in the saddle was precarious at best.
“Do you know I produce television shows?” she asked a little breathlessly.
“I thought you were a decorator of some kind.”
“Nope.”
“Is that your new job in New York, producing television shows?”
“That’s it.”
“What kind?”
“I did nature shows in San Francisco, but in New York I’m moving to food.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What does that mean?”
“I’m going to produce a cooking show. You know, on cable.”
“I’ve never heard of a cooking show,” he said honestly.
“You must live under a rock. There are whole channels devoted to cooking and eating and restaurants and all the rest.”
He shook his head.
“Anyway,” she continued, “last year, in Frisco, we did a three-part special on birds. I produced the segment on Bowerbirds. Have you ever hear of them?”
“I don’t think so.”
She waved a hand in the air and slipped again, grabbed the saddle horn and steadied herself. The horse tossed his head as if to ask what in the heck she was doing back there. “The male Bowerbirds really go all-out building these fantastic nests to lure a female into mating with them,” Echo said a little breathlessly. “Each nest is different, too. The males decorate them with colorful trash they find or maybe with flowers or dead insects…anything to attract a potential partner.”
The look he cast her this time was longer. “Wait just a second. Are you comparing me to a bird?”
She laughed. “Judging from that house you’re building, you’re aiming to capture a princess of your own and raise about ten kids.”
“No princess, no thanks. When I marry it will be to a girl who was raised on a ranch and knows exactly what she’s in for. And as for kids, don’t tell me, let me guess. You don’t like them. They’re too much trouble. They get in the way of a career.”
“Wrong, oh, wise one. I actually like kids.” Her forehead creased as she added, “Do you know what all that blustery stuff between my stepfather and your father was about?”
Adam turned away from the lake, following the steep trail into the trees. “It sounded like it was about your mother.”
“I think it kind of sounded as though they were talking about your mother.”
“No,” he said firmly. “No one on this ranch talks about my mother.”
Echo leaned sideways toward him. When he realized it wasn’t entirely on purpose, he put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her back upright.
“Least of all you?” she said.
“Least of all, me.”
“But—”
“If your mother had run away with some cowhand while you were still a little kid, would you have spent a lot of time worrying about her?”
“I guess it would depend on why she ran.” Echo gasped as the gelding made a small but jarring leap across a gully. “Understanding that very basic thing seems important to me.”
“Not to me.”
“My stepfather mentioned your mother sent a postcard after she left. From Canada, I think he said. Did anyone track it down? Why don’t you try to find out where she went or if she’s dead or alive?”
Reaching the top of the ridge, he once again waited for the gelding to catch up. When Echo was beside him,
