to get another one.”
“These things happen,” he murmured.
“There!” She spun to face him and she most definitely had her game face on. “Now I can properly thank you for riding to my rescue, Gabriel Chance. That was awesome.”
“You know my name?” He gazed into eyes that were neither green nor blue. He was reminded of the turquoise of tribal jewelry, and again, a memory stirred. He’d swear they’d met before.
“Everybody knows the Chance boys. But besides that, we had one semester together at JHHS our junior year.”
“You’re Morgan O’Connelli!” He pronounced her surname with an emphasis on the last two syllables, as an Italian would.
“That’s me. The daughter of Seamus O’Conner and Bianca Spinelli, the infamous pair who created the confusing last name of O’Connelli, thereby assuring that their children would suffer through each and every class roll call.”
“But it’s distinctive.” She hadn’t changed it, either, so she must not hate it that much. Now that he knew who she was, Gabe started sifting back through his memories. “Didn’t we work on the junior-senior prom together?”
“We did. We spent the afternoon before the prom blowing up helium balloons and sniffing a little gas now and then so we could sing like the Chipmunks.”
“Yeah.” He laughed. Just like that, everything about her came back to him—vagabond parents, modern-day gypsies, really, who drifted from one place to another in an old van. A passel of kids, maybe seven or eight. Morgan had been the oldest. Enrolling in the middle of junior year, when most of the class had lived in the Jackson Hole area all their lives, must have been tough.
But she’d thrown herself into school activities with a vengeance, volunteering for all the little jobs nobody else wanted. He’d been going steady with someone at the time, so he couldn’t ask her out. Besides, the word around school was that she couldn’t date much because she babysat her younger brothers and sisters.
Gabe hadn’t allowed himself to think about her in romantic terms, yet he remembered those eyes and that flame-red hair. If he wanted to be perfectly honest with himself, he’d have to admit he also remembered her rack. She’d almost been accepted as part of the gang, and then … she was gone.
“I remember you worked at the diner for a while after school was out that summer.”
“Uh-huh. I loved making shakes. And it was a great excuse to get out of babysitting.”
He’d loved watching her in that little white uniform, but he didn’t say that. “I went in there one day and they said you’d left.”
“That was right before the Fourth of July celebration,” she said. “And speaking of that, you’d better get back or you’ll be late.” She unclipped a cell phone from her tooled leather belt. “I’ll call the stable and tell them to come get this nag. I’m afraid Geronimo is a parade washout, at least with me on board. Oh, well.” She shrugged. “Chi non risica, non rosica.”
He knew absolutely no Italian. “Which means?”
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”
Gabe wasn’t fooled. Her cheerful acceptance of her fate didn’t ring true. From what he remembered of her, she loved to be part of things and a Fourth-of-July parade would be right up her alley.
“Don’t call them,” he said. “We’ll just switch horses.”
She paused in the act of dialing. “That’s very generous, but I couldn’t possibly accept.”
“Don’t you want to ride in the parade?”
“Well, sure, but I don’t think I quite realized how tricky it would be.”
“So this is your first parade?”
She smiled. “Yep. I’m a parade virgin.”
“Then we need to change your status today.” And if their discussion had sexual overtones, he didn’t mind a bit. She’d started it.
Still smiling, she shook her head. “I’ll bet your horse is worth a gazillion dollars.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Gabe thought Jack might say it mattered a lot, but Top Drawer was Gabe’s horse and he could loan out the roan paint if he wanted to. That meant Gabe would be riding an Appaloosa instead of one of the Last Chance paints, and Jack might not like that, either. The ranch used the parade to showcase their registered horses, so in the past their entry had been all paints, all the time. But Gabe wasn’t in the mood to please Jack right now.
“No, really, Gabe. If anything were to happen to him, or to someone in the parade while I’m riding him, I’d never forgive myself.”
“Nothing will happen.” Gabe gestured toward his horse. Top Drawer hadn’t moved since Gabe had dropped the reins to the ground. “He’s trained within an inch of his life. You won’t have a single problem, but if you’re worried, you can ride next to me.”
Eagerness gleamed in her eyes for a moment before she looked away. “I really appreciate the offer. You don’t know how much.” She glanced back at him. “But it wouldn’t be right.”
“Why not?”
“I’d be horning in on your parade entry, interrupting your family event, insinuating myself into a situation that isn’t my—”
“Aw, hell, Morgan. You know you want to do it, so just get on my horse and make it snappy or we’ll both be late.”
She hesitated another second and then grinned. “Okay, Gabe. You’re right. I really do want to be in this parade. I’ve been thinking about it ever since … well, since I was sixteen, I guess.”
Thank God he’d offered. “Then let’s do it.”
“I’ll be forever in your debt.”
“Yeah? That sounds promising.”
She laughed. “Don’t get all excited. Opening a business has sucked up most of my capital. But I might be able to swing dinner at Spirits and Spurs if you avoid the steak.” She walked over to Top Drawer and scrambled aboard. The fourth snap on her shirt popped open again.
Instantly Gabe thought of another way she could show her gratitude, and immediately felt like a jerk. He was doing a good deed and expected nothing in return. Absolutely nothing.
“Damnation.” She pulled the shirt together and snapped it.
Doing his level best not to stare, Gabe led the Appaloosa over so he could hold on to the wayward horse while he adjusted her stirrups. No doubt being turned on by a glimpse of her spectacular cleavage reflected poorly on his character.
But there you had it. He was superficial and immature enough to wish that snap would stay open.
“Oh, would you please get my little purse?” she asked. “I left it tied around the saddle horn, and I doubt you’ll want to ride in the parade with it hanging there in full view.”
