A Holiday Romance

Don’t surrender yet. According to the brochures, the resort offered horseback riding, off-road biking and hiking, desert-jeep tours. Even skydiving.

Staying on the ground seemed like a good idea for now. She’d already made one big leap of faith.

“H OWDY, THERE , ma’am. Now ain’t yew a fine filly?” The stablehand pushed a battered straw Stetson to the back of his head. “Y’lookin’ for a bronc?”

Number fifteen. Alice ran her palms down her jeans before extending a hand. Meet a cowboy. At this rate, she’d have to come up with a new list before the first week was out.

“I’m Alice Potter. Chloe sent me.”

“You mean that sweet li’l gal with the blond ponytail?” Plastering a wide grin across his tanned face, the man shook her hand. He was straight from central casting: handsome weathered face, golden-brown lock tumbled across his forehead, clear green eyes, shoulders as broad as his cowpoke accent. A white tank and low-riding jeans clung to his lean hard body. His boots were pointy-toed and emerald green. Bought to match his eyes, she’d just bet.

Alice nodded. “Chloe said you would set me up with a lesson or two. I’ve already signed on for a trail ride, but I’d like to learn a few techniques first so I know what I’m doing. I’m a beginner.”

The cowboy slid an arm around her shoulders and gave her an encouraging hug. “Don’tcha worry none, li’l lady. I’ll have you gallopin’ ’cross the desert in two shakes of a rattler’s tail.”

That startled her—how did he know she dreamed of galloping across the desert? Did everyone have the same secret desire? She tried to squirm away. The cowboy smelled of leather, cologne and pungent sweat. The proximity of so much male made her stomach swirl. She stepped out from under his arm and looked into a stall, pretending an interest in the four-legged occupant. The stable was quiet and dark. At the other end of the building, a lone female stablehand shoveled out one of the stalls, pitching forkfuls into a wheelbarrow.

“That there bay’s name is Loco,” said the cowboy. “Y’think you’d like to climb aboard?”

An extremely large brown horse stuck its black nose against the upper rails of the stall, nostrils flaring as he snorted the way Alice imagined a charging bull might. “Heck, no.”

The cowboy slid open the stall door. The horse swung around to greet him, its long black tail swishing across its hocks. “Pay the name no mind, ma’am. This old fella’s gentle as a lamb.”

She stayed far back as he led the horse out into the aisle. “What about you? Have you got a name?”

“Y’can call me Denver,” he said, nodding and grinning. His eyes swept her up and down with obvious approval. “If I can call yew Allie.”

Denver the cowboy. Perfect.

A little too perfect. Especially the lingo. She supposed he’d been hired to give the guests a show.

“My name’s Alice,” she said, thinking he’d misheard.

“Maybe so, but yew look like an Allie. Y’know—all cute ’n sassy.”

“Me?” Her hair was caught up in a clip and she’d knotted her sleeveless checked blouse at the waist. Did that qualify as sassy? Or was her new attitude showing already?

After the Cocktail Shakers had gone, Chloe had phoned with suggestions for the day—a riding lesson this morning and a trip to the wave pool in the afternoon. What she’d called an easy start had seemed plenty adventurous to Alice, particularly now that she was face-to-face with a cowboy and a horse. She wasn’t afraid of horses. Or cowboys. She just had a healthy caution about riding—or kissing—either one.

That darn Kyle Jarreau. He’d put the notion in her head.

Denver hooked a rope to the horse’s halter and handed the end of it to Alice. “By gosh, you’re cute as a pigtailed pup when you’re blushin’.”

He flirts with every woman. Alice was certain of that, but she was flattered all the same. Back home on the island, she knew everyone as well as they knew her. Flirting with Keith at the inn or Bill the kayak guy would be like flirting with a cousin.

Standing at the end of the horse’s lead, she looked sidelong at Denver. Her lips curved invitingly. “I’ll bet you make all the women blush.”

With an unabashed wink that did nothing to deny her claim, he tossed a saddle blanket over the horse’s back. His lashes were as thick as a girl’s.

So were the horse’s, fringing large brown eyes that watched her with interest. Alice swallowed and stepped closer to the animal, determined to make a friendly overture there, too. “Nice horse.”

She extended her hand. Loco thrust his nose at her. She flinched before realizing that the horse’s muzzle was soft and velvety beneath the bristle of whiskers. He didn’t chomp at her fingers, but moved supple, leathery lips against her palm.

Denver took her hand and pressed something into it. “Old Loc’s looking for a treat. Hold your fingers out straight.”

Slices of carrot. The horse gently lipped them up, crunching greedily. He returned to her palm, nostrils fluttering, the nibbling lips smearing her with spittle.

She giggled. “That’s ticklish.”

Denver clasped her hand for a moment before releasing it. He gave the horse’s neck an affectionate slap. “Loc’s a good beginner’s horse. He’ll take care of you just fine.”

What about you? she wondered as she rubbed her palm on her jeans. The way he’d touched her had made her ticklish inside, too, even when she reminded herself that she shouldn’t take the cowboy seriously.

She stroked Loco’s nose. He butted her, scraping her chin with his bony head. Ouch. She pushed him away, her fingers tightening on the rope as the horse threw his head high.

“Steady, boy.” Denver lifted a saddle onto Loco’s back, then reached beneath the horse to snag the dangling cinch. The motion rippled impressive muscles beneath the clinging tank. In the still heavy heat of the stable, his skin glistened with perspiration.

Alice’s mouth felt like cotton. “Are you a real cowboy?”

He straightened. “Worried ’bout how I’ll handle your lesson, Allie?” He doffed his hat and raked a hand through his burnished blond hair, studying her.

“I, uh, I’ve never ridden before.”

“No need to fret. Most of our guests are greenhorns. Trail ridin’s no challenge at all. You’ll do as well as any of ’em once I teach yew the basics.”

Oh, boy. She gulped, distracted from the fact that he hadn’t answered her question. Maybe she didn’t care whether he was genuine.

Denver hung his hat on the saddle horn and finished the tacking up, going off on a rambling, colorful story about riding broncs on the rodeo circuit and winning the silver buckle prominently centered on his tooled leather belt. Alice’s eyes dropped to the bulge below it, then darted away. Smirking, he picked up the reins and matter-of-factly took Alice’s hand in his, leading both her and the horse outdoors into the glaring midmorning heat.

The riding ring was empty. A couple of horses occupied a nearby corral, dozing in the shade of a stand of cottonwood trees. Denver told her that the rest of them had gone out on the early trail ride.

“Let’s get you mounted up.” His accent seemed to come and go. He retrieved his hat and set it on his head, tugging the brim low with a devilish, one-sided grin. “I’ll turn you into an easy rider in no time.”

Alice shuffled in the dirt. Loco seemed enormous to her again, the saddle perched high on his back. She looked uncertainly at the stirrup.

“Y’want a leg up?”

She didn’t know why she was hesitating. Riding a horse was nothing to be timid about. Rock climbing or skydiving, yes, but this was a small start. “I want to try it myself.”

Denver guided her hands to the saddle, then held the stirrup for her. “Go ’head. Stick a foot in here, take a bounce on the ball of your other foot and up you’ll go. Easy as pie.”

She was less than elegant, but she managed to haul herself into the saddle. “Yawp,” she croaked from atop her perch, hastily sticking her right foot into the stirrup. The ground was a long way down. “What do I do now?”

“Grab the reins. Leave some slack. You don’t want to be jabbing Loco’s mouth.”

The leather reins slithered in her damp hands. The horse’s ears flicked back and forth, but he didn’t move. “Now what?”

“Y’feelin’ okay in the saddle? Got a good grip with your thighs?” Denver’s eyes glinted from beneath the hat brim.