CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN Ginger
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Ginger
T he mulch riding trail through the Ashbys’ woods is one I haven’t ridden since the summer CeCe left for college, when she, Liv and I camped out here in a tent with a few bottles of wine. We hid it in thermoses so her parents wouldn’t know. Seeing the land through Cole’s eyes shines a whole new light on the area. As we ride along the path of silver pine trees his family’s ranch is named after, he takes his time showing me everything that matters to him: the place where he fell off his bike and broke his arm during a race with Wade; the remnants of a teepee fort he made with his dad; the wild raspberry and blueberry bushes CeCe and I used to help Jo pick from every July to make her famous jam.
The thick columns of pines stretch for a good hundred feet to my right and, through them, I can see the river that runs the entire back of the Ashby property. It’s buggy and warm but the canopy protects us from the sun, only allowing it to filter through slightly. The path stretches on ahead and, at the end of it, we’ll reach a clearing and the river where we all swam when we were kids. On the bank is a fishing cabin where Wyatt used to bring the boys, and a little waterfall cascades over a set of boulders just behind it.
As we ride, we pass a smattering of maple and oak trees, the ground below sprinkled with wildflowers and honeysuckle. I should be taking in the beautiful nature around us—the bees fluttering, the birds singing and the tree frogs croaking. But instead, all I can see is Cole ahead of me. I know he’s ridden his whole life. But seeing him on Smoke is something else altogether. His body moves with ease on the chocolate brown quarter horse. His white t-shirt and worn-in blue jeans mold to his body perfectly as his strong arms work the reins. His brown leather cowboy boots and tattered hat, both of which I know used to be Wyatt’s, complete the look.
I watch from under the brim of my own hat as he pats Smoke and bends down to mutter something into his mane like they’re the best of friends. I feel myself wishing we could pull off into a bush somewhere just to tide me over until we can make it to a bed. There is nothing Cole does that isn’t attractive, but damn, cowboy Cole might sit at the top of my list.
“This is the tree my friends and I used to sneak beer to when my parents had friends over.” Cole laughs as he points to a weathered old birch with a low extending branch that could easily double up as a seat. “We’d sit and talk about life, the girls we both wanted, how annoying you and CeCe were.”
The closer we get to the clearing, the closer the water gets to the left of us. By the end of the path, the river will only be ten feet from the trail.
“You and your friends were always up to no good,” I say with a grin. “I remember one night I slept over and Wade had to bring you out a change of clothes and new shoes so your mama wouldn’t know you had been drinking and trying to swing into the river from that tree right over there.”
I point to a big crimson king maple that still has part of an old rope hanging from it.
Cole chuckles. “You and CeCe came out to take photos of us. We were drenched. You were gonna use them to bribe us. ‘Incriminating evidence for future use,’ you called it.”
“Hey, I knew your dad would kick your ass if he found out. You were barely eighteen and he wouldn’t have taken kindly to you stealing his bourbon. CeCe and I didn’t have to ask twice for a ride that whole summer,” I say, laughing at the memories.
“You were a little shit disturber even then,” Cole comments as he reaches the clearing.
“Had to shoot my shot. You can’t blame me for that.”
He slows as we enter the clearing and I ride up beside him. The beauty of the Ashbys’ land still takes me by surprise. The space is vast and flat; the grass is long, not really maintained here, and littered with wildflowers.
“Maybe you had to shoot your shot, but I have a secret.” He leans in slightly. When his amber eyes find mine and he smiles big enough for his dimples to appear, my breath hitches. “I would’ve done it any way, Vixen. Never could say no to you, even then.”
I smile back before he takes off and shouts, “Come on, cowgirl, see if you can keep up!”
I watch him go, moving at increased speed through the flowers.
“Alright, girl, I know we just met and all, but don’t fail me now,” I say to Sunflower as I tighten my legs around her and she starts to move. Cole isn’t going too fast, so I catch up to him in no time and we reach the grass near the fishing cabin. The waterfall comes into view and so does a Silver Pines truck.
“Is there someone here?” I ask.
“Yeah, us,” he says, moving into the shorter grass with Smoke.
The maples are plentiful here along the water’s edge. This is the place that the river ends, and where the waterfall rushes into it, it’s almost like a circular pool. It’s my favorite spot on the property. When we reach the fishing cabin in front of the waterfall, Cole dismounts and ties his horse to a post, before making his way over to me to help me down. He kisses me when I land on my feet, tipping my hat back for access.
“Fuck, been waiting to do that the whole ride,” he says.
“Why the truck, Cole?” I ask with my eyes narrowed. “What are you up to? Trying to butter me up after you sold me out with my mama?”
“Yep. Is it working?” he asks tying Sunflower up beside Smoke.
“Depends on what’s in the truck,” I tell him, folding my arms under my breasts. He grins and pulls me by the hand behind the car. It’s there that the edge of the water comes into view, and I see it: a big blanket stretched out under a large round maple, a Yeti cooler holding it down in the breeze. “It’s not what’s in the truck; it’s what I used the truck for.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask, intrigued.
“Yeah,” he says, wrapping his strong arms around me. “I brought your favorite little sandwiches from Sage and Salt. And some of their cookies and fruit. The San Pellegrino you like …”
I can’t help it. That warm tight feeling takes over my chest and I reach up on my tiptoes to kiss him. I kiss him like it might be the last chance I ever get, because the amount of effort this man has put into today might be the nicest thing any man has ever done for me. He kisses me back with matched passion, his tongue searching my mouth as heat coils between my thighs. We move so effortlessly together; there’s no trying with Cole, we just are.
“Easy, Vixen,” he says gruffly, pulling his lips from mine. “Don’t get too eager now. It’s the lunch portion of the tour.”
He plants a kiss on my forehead and heads off toward the blanket, leaving me dumbfounded.
“I’m starting to forgive you for agreeing to dinner … ” I call out as I start to follow him.
“Yeah you are, especially when you realize I brought a batch of Spicer’s world-famous fudge too.”
I smile behind him. Cowboy Cole and chocolate? I don’t say it, but I sure think it: if I had to have a first date with anyone, and wait half my life for it, I wouldn’t want it to be with anyone other than Cole Ashby.