Rancher's Covert Christmas. Beth Cornelison
herd.”
She only hesitated a second before throwing her hands up with a snort of amusement. “Why not?”
“Good. This way.” He hitched his head toward the outbuilding where she’d seen Josh earlier. “You want a horse or an ATV?”
Falling in step beside him, she wrinkled her nose at his question. “An ATV? That’s not very Americana. Cowboys are supposed to ride horses.”
“It’s the new Americana. More efficient in many cases, and you don’t have to muck an ATV’s stall or pay for vet bills and feed. Every ranch I know is using some form of motorized vehicle these days.”
They reached the outbuilding, and as they stepped inside, the scent of manure and straw grew stronger. As her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light inside, she scanned the long aisle of stalls where a few horses hung their heads over their gates, snuffling and flicking their ears.
While Zane pulled on a coat he’d retrieved from a hook just inside the main door, she walked over to one of the horses and raised a hand to pat its nose. “Hi, beautiful. How are you?”
“So what do you think?” He eyed her as he buttoned the coat, which she saw was stained with Lord-only-knew-what, along with a liberal amount of dust and dried mud. No wonder he kept it in the stable.
“I’ll save the ATV for another day and try a horse...if that’s okay?”
He nodded and pursed his lips in thought. “I’d recommend Lucy for you. That’s who Kate rides.”
“Kate?” She flipped through her mental Rolodex, working to recall if she’d met Kate yet.
“Josh’s fiancée. She’s still learning to ride, and Lucy is one of our gentlest.” Zane had taken a saddle and reins from a rack and entered the first stall on the left. He stroked the neck of the large black horse in the stall, and the animal responded with a snuffle, nudging Zane with its nose. “Hey, Sarge. Time to work.”
Zane’s phone beeped, and he paused long enough to check it. Muttering a curse, he glanced back at Erin. “That was Roy. I need to hurry. The herd got spooked, and they need me ASAP. I really don’t have time to saddle Lucy for you. Rain check?”
Erin’s heart sank, but she tried to hide her disappointment. “Sure.”
As she turned to leave, he called, “Unless you wanted to ride double with me.”
Walking back to the gate of the stall, she licked her lips and weighed the option. “Are you sure?”
“I wouldn’t have offered if I weren’t. But I need an answer now. Those loose cows are getting near a dangerous area in the hills, even as we speak.” Zane slid the bit into the black horse’s mouth and adjusted the reins while he talked.
“Okay. Am I dressed all right?” She held her hands out and dropped her gaze to her jeans, winter coat and low-heeled suede boots.
“Cows don’t care about fashion,” he said, not even looking as he tossed a blanket over the horse’s back.
“Uh-huh,” she replied dryly. “But what about functionality? Do I need to change anything? I can run back to my room, if so.”
He sent her a quick side glance as he grabbed the saddle off the floor and draped it over the horse’s back. “It’ll do. But if you want to preserve the condition of those rather expensive-looking shoes, I’d swap out for a pair of work boots around the corner by the front alley door. While you’re there, grab some gloves.”
She followed his directions, and by the time she’d swapped her boots out and found a small pair of work gloves in a plastic bin, he was leading his horse—Sarge, he’d called the large black equine—out to the alley. The top of the horse’s head rose taller than Zane’s by several inches, and the beast’s well-muscled flanks were sleek and shiny, his ears perked and alert. Just the same, she asked, “Sarge can manage both of us?”
“For a while. I won’t ask him to work with both of us in the saddle.” He motioned her closer. “You’ll sit in front of me until we get up to the part of the fence where the cows got loose. Then you’ll have to get down while Sarge and I round up strays. But you can observe. Maybe give Roy a hand with repairing the fence?” He slapped the saddle and nodded toward Sarge. “Need a leg up?”
“Onto this giant? Definitely.” She moved closer and poked her foot in the stirrup, a challenge in itself thanks to her tight, slim-legged jeans. As she hoisted herself up, she felt Zane’s large hands on her hips, his fingers digging into her with a firm grip. The heat from his palms sent shockwaves through her, and her breath snagged in her lungs. Erin worked to calm her scattered pulse as she settled into the saddle, sliding as far forward as she could to make room for him. But Zane had a rugged, magnetic presence that was hard to ignore. Especially when his touch made her blood sizzle like Fourth of July sparklers. He swung up to sit behind her, and his broad chest and muscled legs surrounded her. The press of his body against hers was like a vacuum, sucking all the oxygen from her lungs. Dizzying desire flashed through her as his arms circled her to take hold of the reins. “Ready?”
She squeezed the saddle horn, searching for balance as her head swam. She hummed her assent, because she doubted she had the breath left to speak without her voice cracking.
Zane clicked his tongue to the horse. As they rode out, he paused long enough to call to the two dogs that milled around the gate to the pasture.
“Ace! Checkers! What are you two lazybones still doing here? We have work to do.” He gave a whistle and the dogs sprang to action, running into the pasture in front of them.
Erin tried to focus on the blue heelers bounding over the frozen ground ahead of them rather than the hard male body pressed against her back. Easier said than done, especially when Zane settled his hand on her belly, anchoring her as he kicked his horse’s gait up to a canter. She clutched the saddle horn with one hand and his arm with her other.
“You okay?” he asked, his mouth beside her ear and his warm breath sending a tingle through her.
“I’m good,” she said, though her voice sounded choked. She hoped he credited her winded reply to the jostling of the horse.
They rode for several minutes in silence, crossing the rolling hills of frozen pastureland. She drank in the lovely setting, imagining what it might be like to live in this rural setting, working the land and managing a herd for a living. Peaceful, in many respects, she thought, then remembered the stress and concern Michael had expressed to her because of the sabotage. Being at the mercy of the weather was a constant issue for the ranch. Drought, blizzards, storms could all take a toll on the herd.
“Do you ever wish you did something else for a living? That you lived in town and had a nine-to-five job?” she asked.
“No,” he said without hesitation.
“Never? Not even when the herd gets loose right at dinnertime and you have to round up straying cows in the freezing cold?”
She felt the rumble from his chest as he grunted. “Inconvenient, yes. But ranching is my life. My heritage.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t want something else for yourself. You really don’t ever think about getting a different job?”
“No.” His tone was so certain, so final. She had to admire that he was so sure of his life path. She wondered sometimes if she’d chosen to be a private investigator for the right reasons. If Sean hadn’t been killed, what would she have done with her life?
When the cattle and other ranchers on horseback came into sight, she pushed the philosophical questions aside and took in the scene before her. She recognized Josh in his black hat riding in a wide arc around the straying cows. Brady was further out in the pasture, while another man sat with his back to them, astride an ATV near the fence line, talking to the foreman, Roy Summers. Zane rode up to these two and addressed them. “Erin came to observe. Dad, want to give her a hand down?”
When