Page 67 of Stolen for Keeps
She shot me a glare, half-mocking, half-offended.
I smirked. “But damn, why didn’t I think of that?”
That got me a smile.
I led the other horse out.
“Oh my God,” she gasped. “How cute!”
Toby, the Shetland pony, peered up at her, fluffy and entirely too pleased with the attention.
“He’s a rescue,” I explained. “Elia took him in a couple of months ago, but I swear he’s always belonged here.”
She crouched, scratching behind his ears, and Toby lapped it up.
“So, he’s my ride?” she asked, deadpan.
“A pony for my princess,” I said, teasing.
Her glare snapped to me. Not at Toby, of course—he was innocent in all this—but at the ‘P’ word.
“Toby is adorable,” she said. “But I can handle a full-sized horse.”
I threw my hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. I wouldn’t do you that dirty on our first date.”
I led Caramel, one of The Lazy Moose’s best mares, out, and Maya lit up.
“She’s always up for anything you ask of her,” I said, giving the mare a pat. “Though I’m pretty sure she’d put her hoof down if you tried painting her cherry red.”
Maya laughed, running a gentle hand along Caramel’s snout. “I’d never let that happen.” She lowered her voice. “Don’t worry, girl. I’ve got your back.”
Within minutes, they bonded like old friends.
And just like that, we were off.
We rode side by side, the valley stretching wide around us,sage grass swaying in the breeze as if it was keeping a rhythm only the land remembered.
Maya moved with the horse, slipping just ahead, her figure momentarily etched against the orange sky before falling back into step beside me. I watched her, taking it all in—the way her hair slipped from its tie, the way she gave an amused sound when Caramel tossed her head, and the way she looked like she belonged here, whether she’d admit it or not.
“You sure you weren’t raised on a ranch?” I teased, nudging my horse closer. “You handle that mare like you’ve been doing this since you could walk.”
Maya smirked. “Nope. I just used to ride for fun when I lived at the mansion.”
I snorted. “Ah, yes. The classicrich girl turns cowgirlarc. Next thing I know, you’ll be trading in your boots for rhinestones.”
She rolled her eyes. “Please. If I wanted rhinestones, I’d have kept the necklace.”
“Fair point.”
Then she nudged Caramel ahead, a little too fast.
“Easy there, rodeo queen,” I called. “We’re on a date, not auditioning forYellowstone.”
She tossed a look over her shoulder. For a second, I thought she’d fire back with some smart remark. Instead, she guided Caramel into a few smooth maneuvers.
I whistled. I didn’t even know the mare could do that.
“Seriously, where did you pick up skills like that?” I asked, still grinning.
