Page 43 of Heart to Heart
This was it. This was how I died. On the back of a horse, questioning all his life decisions and the choices he’d made that brought him to this very spot on this very day. If I dismounted, I’d be stuck trying to climb up the rocky surface back to the trail, where my human legs wouldn’t be able to catch up to the rest of the group.
“This is a fine mess you’ve gotten us into, Sir,” I chastised him, only receiving another snort in response. “Are you expecting someone to meet you here? Am I being traded for drugs? Are you on drugs, Filly Ray? Or are you mad that you’re named after a female horse?”
“No, he’s just an asshole, that one,” an unfamiliar voice came from behind me. I peered back to see a guide in the ranch’s signature blue polo descending the rocky surface toward us, just as Tristan came galloping from the trail behind him.
“Oh, thank God,” Tristan said, visibly relieved. “I thought he may have fallen down the side of the canyon.”
“Nope, he just decided to ditch work early and take me hostage with him. I tried getting him to back up, but he went forward instead.”
“Yeah, he’s been doing that lately,” the blue polo shirt-clad guide acknowledged. “He’s been a bit temperamental ever since we put him on a special diet to lose some excess weight.”
“Same, Filly Ray,” I said, patting his flank.
“Wait,” Tristan said. His aggravated tone startled me, and I saw the anger in his eyes as he looked down at the guide, “you allowed an inexperienced rider to get on a horse known to throw a temper tantrum? She could have been hurt.” He shifted his gaze to me, his eyes softening a bit as he took me in.
“He’s never done anything quite this extreme before,” the guide answered defensively.
“Tristan, it’s okay, really.” I glanced between Tristan and the guide, not wanting to be the cause of us all being booted off the ranch. “I’m okay. Filly Ray just took me on a little soul-searching expedition. I feel like we genuinely made a connection here.” A quick glimpse down at the side-eye I was being shot told me that Filly Ray and I had, in fact, not made a connection.
“Filly Ray,” the guide clicked his tongue, “back.”
With his period of reflection over, Filly Ray began to back up as the guide directed him up the side of the canyon and back to level ground, where Tristan sidled up alongside us, reaching his hand out to me.
“She isn’t taking this horse back,” he told the guide, all while looking me in the eye. “She’ll finish out the ride with me on Collin Oates.”
Hot damn. Thank you, Filly Ray.
I grabbed Tristan’s hand as he slid back in his saddle, helping me steady myself as I put all my weight on one stirrup while swinging the other over Filly Ray’s saddle. When I was free of the saddle, Tristan reached over, wrapping his arm around my waist, effortlessly hoisting me onto the seat of his saddle, where he positioned me in front of him.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his breath kissing my earlobe.
I nodded because my brain failed to aid my mouth in forming anything close to an actual word. My back was pressed flush against Tristan’s body, brushing against every muscle and hard plane of his torso.
“Collin,” he called to his horse, clicking his tongue to snap the animal back to attention. “Go.”
Unlike Filly Ray, Collin Oates didn’t have to be told twice and began the walk back to the trail. Behind us, Filly Ray snorted again. I looked behind Tristan, catching the horse’s eye. Pretty certain I caught him winking at me as Collin Oates pulled away. It could have also been the fly buzzing around his head, but in my heart, Filly Ray was the mastermind behind the sexiest horseback riding experience of my life. A solid wingman, after all. Maybe he would be getting those extra oats.
“I’m sorry you had to break away from the others,” I said, not in the least bit sorry.
“Are you kidding? I wasn’t going to continue on with you being lost or potentially injured on the trail. I was the one who pushed for us to do horseback riding. It would have been all my fault.”
“All your fault that I was given the one horse going through it today?” I looked around, thankful there were no cameras in sight but also knowing that wouldn’t last much longer.
“If we have any more dates involving animals, I’ll be sure not to let you out of my sight,” he said, chuckling.
His arms circled me, his hands gripping the reins in front of me, caging me in. It occurred to me that I hadn’t felt more protected by anyone outside of my parents in my life before now. Not even by Guy, whose idea of being protective was telling me to be careful after I’d slipped and fallen on a sheet of ice in a Costco parking lot. It was a feeling I didn’t know I craved until I was experiencing it. I wanted more of it, not from anyone else, but from Tristan. Only from Tristan.
Oh, shit.
Collin Oates began his ascent up the last incline before reaching the trail, and the sudden shift from flat ground caused me to lose my grip on the pommel and slide backward in the saddle into Tristan.
“I got you,” Tristan said, when I felt as though my balance were in jeopardy.
With Tristan’s arm around my waist, I arched my back into him, my rear pressing into his upper thigh as I regained my balance on Collin Oates. Behind me, Tristan emitted a low guttural moan in my ear.
Had I done that to him? If so, I wanted to make him do it again. Repeatedly. Preferably not on the back of a horse. Or, why not, maybe even on the back of a horse.
Flushed, I grabbed the pommel, sliding myself forward just as Collin Oates crested the slope, and both the trail—and the cameraman—came into view. Thus ending any further accidental reverse dry humping.
