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“You know what I’d really like to do right now?”
“I can’t wait to hear this,” he said, and her eyes twinkled.
“It’s also been a while since a boy kissed me on a porch swing.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking, Mallory.”
“Actually, I do … oh.” She huffed a sigh then said, “And here’s where I should probably get off your lap and pretend like this never happened. If, you know, I could actually do that—”
“Oh, God, no, honey—” Zach grabbed her hand and pressed it to his chest. “That did not come out the way I meant it. Because trust me, I’ve been thinking about kissing you, too. For some time, actually.”
Her lips curved. “You don’t say.”
“God’s truth,” he said, and she chuckled, low in her throat. “But … it’s been a while since I’ve kissed a girl, too. On a porch swing or anyplace else. And I—”
“Think far too much, is how you want to finish that sentence,” she murmured, then curved her hands around his jaw and brought their mouths together.
And in that instant, he knew kissing her would never be enough.
* * *
Wed in the West: New Mexico’s the perfect place to finally find true love!
Back in the
Saddle
Karen Templeton
KAREN TEMPLETON is a recent inductee into the Romance Writers of America Hall of Fame. A three-time RITA® Award–winning author, she has written more than thirty novels for Mills & Boon. She lives in New Mexico with two hideously spoiled cats. She has raised five sons and lived to tell the tale, and she could not live without dark chocolate, mascara and Netflix.
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To Jewel Kats
Who planted the seed.
Thanks, sweetie.
To Kari Lynn Dell
Who answered my horse/ranching/rodeo questions with her usual aplomb, good humor and patience. If I goofed, that’s my fault, not hers.
Contents
“So I gather you know a fair amount about horses?”
With an actual sigh, the getting-up-there Boston terrier slid down on the exam table in front of Zach Talbot and promptly went to sleep. This might take a while, wake me when she’s done.
She being the auburn-haired Texan female of indeterminate age who’d brought the dog into Zach’s clinic three times in the two weeks since she—and her daughter, she’d mentioned more than once—had moved into the old Hufsteter place a ways out of town. Completely renovated, she’d said. Beautiful house. Reminded her of home.
Not
