Page 10 of Easy Rider
“I’ll bet you do... So now you’re buying Flying Hearts?”
“No. My dad wants to. I’m just helping him. It’s supposed to be a secret.”
“Well, the whole town knows Stew’s retiring and wants the cash.”
I put myself in Ryder’s shoes. His heart is probably tied to this ranch. It must be scary for him to have the possibility of his livelihood going out the window in a sale.
“You don’t have to worry about anything,” I explain, stealing a glance at him. “My dad isn’t going to fire anyone. He’s keeping everything exactly as is. Dad only wants to fix up the place as an investment. That’s why Mr. Lutton wants him to get the deal.”
Ryder gazes over at me, and his expression softens. “You don’t have to worry about me, darlin’.” Ryder slows the truck as we roll over a bumpy metal grate covering a drainage ditch. “I don’t work for Stew.”
Should I mention I saw him working Big Ben with my own two eyes? “You don’t?”
“Stew and I are friends. I’m not an employee. I use his arena to train and work with the horses my clients bring in.”
“What kind of work do you do?”
“It varies.” He shoots me a smile. “Every day is different. Sometimes it’s just the horse, sometimes it’s the horse and rider. Yesterday I worked with a ten-year-old who has his heart set on being a cowboy. His mom wants to make sure he knows how to ride—and, more importantly, fall—without getting hurt. Joey got his foot tangled up a stirrup last week and almost got dragged.”
“Which isn’t good.”
“Sure isn’t. But I’ll keep him safe. He’s booked once a week for two months.”
I glance at the way Ryder’s leaning back in his seat. He’s the picture of cool, serene and strong. I can’t help but feel a little swoony thinking about him keeping a child safe.
“Tomorrow, I’m working with Ranger.”
“Just the horse?”
“Yep. His owner wants to start working cattle with him, which is something Ranger has done in the past,” Ryder explains, chuckling, “but apparently has no interest in doing now.”
“And Stew lets you use his arena.”
Ryder nods. “In exchange, I keep a watch on his hands, do a little doctoring if any animal needs it, and help Stew move cattle.”
“Sounds like a good deal for both of you.”
“It is,” he says, gliding his massive hand over the console and squeezing my thigh. “But it’s nice to know you were concerned about me losing my job.” His touch sears into my flesh, sending shockwaves from where his hand is on my leg down to my big toe. “I’m set, though.”
“That’s good,” I say, staring at his hand still on my thigh. I don’t move an inch because I don’t want it to slip between my legs. And at the same time, he’s being so gentle that I don’t want to tell him to move it. Even though I should, I don’t.
Ryder finally brings his hand back to the steering wheel on his own, and I start breathing normally again. We’re on a path parallel to a bank of trees lining this side of the property. He slows the truck as we approach a large outbuilding. It appears to be in pretty good condition as far as barns go. It’s obviously old, but it doesn’t seem to be falling apart.
“This structure is in the worst shape of any on the property.” Ryder puts the truck in park. “Want to get out and have a look?”
“Sure.” There’s a river of mud between the truck and the building, but I need to report back to Dad. I can handle a little dirt.
