Maybe. Something like that.”
She hadn’t meant to sound nosy. “What kind of horse do you ride in Scotland?”
“A big one.”
Halle couldn’t help the glare she knew she shot him when she glanced his way. The crinkles around his eyes made her want to dig her heels into her mount and take off for the hills—the hell with impressing Jeremy’s important friend.
Alastair let out a short laugh. “I’m sorry, Halle, but you’re so serious. I understand that you probably deal with a lot of beginner riders out here as well as wilderness newbies. I’m not that person. I meant it when I told you that I’m interested in seeing as much of the countryside as three days allow me to. There’s no need to put on your regular show for me, or to be so polite with the cocktail banter. Please, can we be a bit less formal?”
“Sure. For the record, though? I don’t put on a ‘show.’ What you see is what you get. I’m interested in anyone who’s thinking of adding to our area. I love this land and make no apologies for it.”
“I’d expect no less.” There he was again, being all polite and sensible, almost gallant. She snorted. Alastair’s voice might sound like she imagined a knight’s would have five centuries ago, but he had very modern sensibilities. Billionaire instincts.
They rode for a few minutes, silent save for the creak of their saddles. Alastair kept looking at his cell phone, which he’d rested on the front of his saddle in some kind of contraption that she’d seen a few clients bring along. She’d required them to put their phones away, for safety. But since Alastair claimed he was an expert rider, she said nothing. If he ended up on his butt because he missed a rough spot in the trail, so be it. As long as he didn’t injure her horse. Or blame her for the fall.
Halle cleared her throat. “So what do you want to know about Austin?”
He switched off his screen and she found herself the sole object of his attention. It was at once intimidating and stimulating. “What brought you here, Halle? To Bluewood, Shadow Creek?”
“That has nothing to do with your exploration of the area, Alastair.”
“It does. You’re young and can manage a ranch. Why not use your talents in another business, something more lucrative?” So he had noticed the worn-down ranch, her inexpensive riding gear.
“I grew up on this ranch. The only time I left was for college, after which I worked for several years in the city. I returned here to run the ranch for personal reasons.”
“What did you do in the city?”
She paused. Alastair was a client, period. She owed him no explanation for who she was, why she was doing this. Working the ranch that had been her father’s heartbeat.
“I’m a CPA. Corporate business.” She looked at her interrogator. “If it’s all right with you, since you’re an experienced horseman, I’m going to take the lead. The horses will appreciate a good workout.”
“Lead on.” Again, the gentlemanly nod. It would look ridiculous if it were any other man doing it, but Alastair Buchanan didn’t strike her as any other man.
* * *
Alastair didn’t mind the rear view he had of his fearless tour guide as he and Halle trotted, galloped and strode over mile upon mile of rough, Central Texas ranch land. It seemed he didn’t mind any view he’d had of her since they’d met. How was it that this woman, a complete stranger to him before this morning, was absorbing all of his attention? He was single and enjoyed dating as much as he could while running the family whiskey and investment business. This had to be a result of knowing he was going to be alone with her for several days, with no interruption. He trusted Jeremy implicitly—his friend wouldn’t steer him wrong as far as suggesting he get to know more about the Texas countryside with Halle. And Jeremy had encouraged him to flirt with her.
It wasn’t Jeremy’s fault that Alastair had fought against his boner since meeting Halle.
Telling himself to get a grip, Alastair forced himself to concentrate on the countryside instead of Halle’s ass. If only for a minute. Or thirty seconds.
It was different from any other kind he’d seen before. Flatter and far less green than his family properties in Scotland, but stunning in its plain ruggedness. And the unexpected copses of trees in Texas—they were unique, as were the several creeks and rivers they’d rode around and through all day. The sun was warm and the breeze almost crisp. He had a hard time believing it was due to storm anytime soon, as the skies were bluer than Loch Ness in September. Save for the line of clouds at the very edge of the northwestern horizon. He already felt connected to this land, something he didn’t experience with every business deal, to be sure. Alastair enjoyed travel and prided himself on learning about local cultures wherever Clyde Whiskey had interests. But Texas already felt far more important, far more significant to him than a place to invest in tech. His gut told him his fearless tour guide might have something to do with it, but it wasn’t just about sexual attraction.
Used to trusting his intuition in business, he was thrown off balance by how strongly he felt about Halle and Texas. It was more than a good hunch; it was more like a soul moment.
The jet lag must have caught up to him. He’d faired fine over his first week, but now, in the Texas wilds, his circadian rhythm was doing a quick two-step.
“Let’s stop over there for lunch.” He heard her suggestion with great relief. Food, that was what he needed. Sustenance. Halle’s profile was partially hidden under her cowboy hat as she spoke over her shoulder. He tore his gaze from her body, a body that filled out weathered blue jeans in a way that made it easy for him to imagine her naked. Halle sat in the leather saddle as if it were a part of her. He reluctantly looked at the trees she pointed to.
“Looks like the perfect spot.” He guided Buster to the shady area under several willows. They dismounted and he followed Halle and Buttercup. In the few short hours they’d been riding, he learned that in Texas, where there were trees, there’d be some water nearby. Unlike his native Scotland, where lochs and rivers were liable to spring up without any surrounding forest. Sure enough, a small creek gurgled just past the slight rise of mossy ground, beyond the willows.
“We’ll let them get their fill first.” Halle’s voice was quiet, almost contemplative. Alastair stood next to her, their horses providing a sense of privacy on either side.
“It’s amazing how a ride in which your animal does most of the work has the same effect as several hours in the gym.”
Her sharp amber gaze raked his face as if surprised. “Yes. When I lived downtown, I belonged to a gym and hated it.”
“You prefer the outdoors?”
Her eyes widened and he wanted to check himself. Why did everything he said to her sound like a cheap come-on?
“I don’t mind a fun class with lots of loud music, but when the day’s done, I’m most at home here.” Her guard was back up. What made her so wary, so suspicious?
“Do you ever feel threatened out here? With your clients?”
“I have Adeline run a background check whenever I get a request for a private tour. As for you? I trust Jeremy and Adeline. The Kincaids are good people. They wouldn’t
