Chapter 17
Gabe
Fifty-two minutes later, we’re standing outside the corral filled with horses. Despite my teasing about Izzie needing to glam herself up for this ride, she always looks stunning, no matter how little or how much makeup she applies. The natural look she selected for this occasion is casual, yet she’s done something that still highlights those pretty green eyes.
Maybe she can give some tips to Mindy.
Every hair is in place, and I have a sudden urge to reach over and mess it up. A tousled-hair Izzie would be even more attractive than the prim and proper version. She’s wearing tight, figure-hugging blue jeans, and all the cowboys are admiring her from their perch near the stables. My chest puffs and I fight the urge to put my arm around her shoulders in a definite “she’s mine” move. But she isn’t mine, is she? At least not in that sense. She is my responsibility, though, and I need to focus on that more than on how sexy she looks.
“What’s your riding level, ma’am?” a bowlegged cowboy asks Izzie as he stares at an iPad in his hand. “From one to ten, ten being a seasoned cowboy and one being a greenhorn,” he says. Believe me, it’s a real dichotomy to see the old cowpoke using a tablet, but I’m secretly impressed by the tech skills of the Double Trouble staff.
Izzie laughs, drawing all those male eyes towards her again. “Probably a seven or eight?”
He finally looks up and his eyes go wide. “Well, I’ll be a tumbleweed in a twister! Ain’t you that makeup and skin care gal?”
Izzie grins. “I am! How do you know about me?” she says, her eyes roving over his face.
“I’ve been following your skin care routine on that YouTube for two years. It’s the best thing since a campfire under the stars. Your recommended nightly ritual has taken years off my face, and my skin feels a smooth as polished saddle leather.”
His words draw my attention to his face. He does have a minimum of wrinkles for a sixty-year-old.
“Your skin looks radiant!” Izzie enthuses. “May I ask you how old you are?”
“Seventy-nine by my last count,” he says with a chortle.
My eyes go wide. This guy is seventy-nine? I definitely need to adopt Izzie’s skin care routine.
Izzie’s smile broadens. “Well, sir, I’d love to feature you on my channel! Can we do a video clip while I’m here?”
“Please call me Jedidiah,” he says, removing his hat and extending his hand. They shake and he says, “I’d be pleased as a pig in mud to be on your YouTube.”
People standing in line behind us start to get restless. A man clears his throat, and a child whines. All signals to Jedidiah and Izzie that they need to quit the chitchat.
When a lady steps out of line and rushes up to Izzie, asking for her autograph, Jedidiah turns to me and says, “What’s your riding level, cowpoke?” His eyes scan me from head to toe, and he adds, “You’re gonna need an extra-large saddle, big fellow.”
“My level is a five,” I say, stretching the truth a bit and hoping I can fake it, because my oversized male ego hates to be so much less adept at this activity than Izzie.
He grunts, then types on the pad clasped in his hand. “How about I put you down as a three and we won’t tell the young lady?” he says. I nod, then wonder what kind of mount I’m going to get if my skill level is deemed a three.
Just as I open my mouth to protest the skill rating, Jedidiah yells, “Next!”
Stepping aside, I watch Izzie mingle with her fans as several more women and a few men stand in a circle around her, talking animatedly. Even if Bernie and Bernice keep our location a secret, one of these folks is sure to spill the beans. I wonder if any of them are part of the Celebrity Detection Network.
~*~
Thirty minutes later, we’ve all been assigned a mount. Izzie trots up next to me, sitting perfectly straight in the saddle on a gorgeous Palamino mare.
“Gabriel, are you sure you can handle such a lively steed?” she says between giggles.
My steed, as she calls it, looks like the slowest, mellowest horse in the bunch, a swaybacked, overweight mare. It stings that the eight-year-old girl behind me has a faster-looking mount.
“I believe Bessie and I will get along just fine,” I say in an overly confident tone, patting the horse’s neck. She doesn’t even flinch as she chews on a blade of grass.
“She looks quite docile, so I’m sure you’ll be a good match,” Izzie says with a wink. Did she overhear Jedidiah’s assessment of my riding ability?
“Fall in line!” the cowboy named Jethro, whom we met when we first arrived, yells. He’s riding the lead horse, a stunning black stallion. Another ping of jealousy hits that everyone has a better-looking equine than me.
The horses are well-trained, each sedately following the one in front of them. Jethro takes us at a leisurely walking pace as we head down a dusty path towards the mountains. My saddle creaks and groans, my weight shifting along with Bessie’s slow gait. Izzie, who’s riding in front of me, looks light as a feather in her saddle as she bounces along.
“Where’d you learn to ride?” I shout.
She looks over her shoulder and grins. “At the Hillsboro Riding Academy. Father thought it was imperative to have excellent riding skills.”
Huh? “Why’s that?” I ask.
Her shoulders shrug as I gaze at her straight-as-a-poker back. “Mrs. Warton, my first nanny and tutor, created a plan for a young lady’s well-rounded education, as she called it. She was a believer in finishing schools, so her curriculum focused on the four key disciplines of a polished image.”
“What’s the four disciplines?” I ask, interested in learning more about Izzie’s unconventional childhood.
“Grace, elegance, confidence, and strength. Horseback riding lessons fulfilled all four, so Father was delighted to fund them.”
Jethro picks up the pace to a trot, so I don’t ask any other follow-up questions. The riding motion is too jarring to speak. Bessie keeps up, and I feel like I may have misjudged her abilities based on appearance. She’s content to follow Izzie’s mount, acting as if she doesn’t have a care in the world. I must have broken in the saddle because I’m starting to feel more comfortable and wish that Jethro would kick it in gear, possibly trying out a gallop. My cowpoke horseback riding skills are itching for a challenge.
As we ride, I drink in the spectacular scenery. The snowcapped mountains pop against the green valley, creating quite a breathtaking sight. The fresh air has a touch of coolness, so thankfully I’m not even breaking a sweat. We ride for around thirty minutes, then stop at a stream. We dismount, and Jethro tells everyone to hold on to their horse’s reins as he distributes granola bars and bottled water.
Izzie and her horse stand right next to me as we crunch on our snack.
“Are you having fun?” she asks.
“I am! This is beautiful country,” I reply.
“I can’t wait for the campfire this evening,” she says.
Considering Izzie is what I consider a city girl, she’s sure taking to life at the dude ranch. “Will there be cowboy songs and ghost stories?” I tease.
Nodding, Izzie says, “I think so. Jedidiah also mentioned a hoedown tomorrow evening.”
“Mount and fall in line,” Jethro shouts, our signal to return to the ranch.
The return trip takes us on a different route, this one a little more rugged with the dusty path no longer visible underfoot. Jethro’s lead horse scares a couple birds, they squawk and fly away, angry at the disruption.
A few minutes later, a rabbit scurries between Bessie’s legs. She emits a startled neigh, then I’m hanging on for dear life as she heads off at that gallop I wished for, easily overtaking the lead horse. The ground flies underneath us as I hang on to the reins in a death grip. This is far scarier than the car chase, especially since there’s nothing surrounding me to protect me if I fall, which feels like a probable outcome.
“Whoa! Whoa!” I shout, but Bessie’s suddenly become hard of hearing. I’m concentrating too hard on not falling off this horse to remember Jethro’s quick lesson in what to do if your horse spooks. Pull back on the reins?
Sweat runs down my neck, my knees press into the saddle, and my heart leaps into my throat as we approach a small creek. I feel Bessie’s legs and backend bunch as she prepares to jump. Closing my eyes, I recite several Hail Marys when the horse goes airborne. Unfortunately, none of my tactical driving skills lessons prepared me for this.
We land with a thud! and I hang on to the reins and saddle horn for dear life. Bessie hardly misses a step as we clear the creek and continue. I greatly underestimated Bessie’s ability to move fast when she wants to. I regret my previous desire to experience a gallop.
Does this horse know where she’s going? Can I stay in the saddle until we get back to the ranch?
With the position of the sun in the sky, I think we’re headed east. I hear hooves pounding behind me, but don’t dare turn my head to look at Jethro in case I fall out of the saddle. The horse comes up next to Bessie. A hand with bright pink fingernails that I’d recognize anywhere extends towards me, taking the reins from my hand. In seconds, she’s got my mount and hers back to a slow trot, then several seconds later, to a slow walk. Bessie’s sides heave in and out along with mine, as I breathe like someone who just completed the 50-yard dash.
“Are you okay Gabriel?” Izzie says, concern crossing her pretty face.
“I think so,” I pant.
Our eyes connect and instinct, not reason, takes over. With adrenaline still surging through my body, I lean over and touch my lips to hers. She gasps in surprise, and I brace myself for her to pull back and chastise me for my rashness. Then suddenly her lips press closer to mine as she kisses me back. I feel a shiver course through her body, and she laces her fingers in my hair, pulling me closer.Even though the position astride horses is a bit awkward for kissing, we make it work.
Because I’ve been suppressing the urge to kiss her for days, our caresses instantly turn heated, the outside world falling away around us. Passion flares to life like a wildfire ripping across these plains. The kiss goes on and on until we hear hoofbeats approaching and we reluctantly pull apart.
“Nice rescue!” Jethro says as he gallops up to us. “I must say, that was some excellent riding,” he says to Izzie, his eyes filled with admiration. “You should have said you were a nine or ten!”
She nods and smiles, taking the compliment in stride. Is there anything she doesn’t do well?
After I collect myself, I notice that Izzie doesn’t have a hair out of place after her spirited ride, and her outfit looks as clean and crisp as when she put it on. Glancing down, I see that my shirt is dusty, I’ve got a tumbleweed caught in my stirrup, and I’m sure my hair looks like I just fell out of bed.
Jethro motions for us to follow him as he turns around and heads back to the waiting line of horses. Looks like Bessie was headed away from the ranch. Thank goodness Izzie saved me or I’d be two states away, lost and disoriented, before Bessie ran out of steam.
“All’s well, but we’ll take a slower pace back to the ranch,” Jethro bellows to the group, cementing my embarrassment. Several people clap or doff their cowboy hats at Izzie as we ride up. I feel like the Billy Crystal character from the movie City Slickers , the guy who caused a cattle stampede and destroyed their camp. At least Bessie and I didn’t do any property damage.
“You’re lucky the young lady saved your hide,” a grizzled-looking man says when I rejoin the group.
I nod as all eyes turn on me, wishing that the ground would open up and swallow me. My bodyguard skills feel woefully lacking considering my client was the one who saved me.
I ride in silence for the return trip. You’d think I would be wallowing in embarrassment, but now that the attention is off me, I’m replaying that nuclear kiss over and over inside my brain. My companion is equally tight-lipped, so maybe she wasn’t as unaffected by that kiss as she’s pretending to be.
Could there be a future for Izzie and me beyond this road trip? She’s a celebrity and I’m a low-key cyber security expert. I don’t have a skin care routine and I certainly don’t like dressing up to attend fancy shindigs. Trying to talk myself out of how I feel about Izzie just emphasizes the truth—I’m starting to have real feelings for her, and that kiss hinted that she has feelings for me as well.
When we arrive back at the stables, Jedidiah hustles over to Izzie and me. “Oh my! I heard about the runaway and the rescue! Is everyone okay?” he asks, with a pointed look towards me.
“Just peachy,” I reply.
“His pride is a little wounded,” Izzie whispers behind her hand.
Jedidiah nods. “I knew he was a greenhorn,” he murmurs.
“Hey! I’m sitting right here,” I huff, still perched on Bessie’s back.
The two exchange contrite glances.
“Better stick to limo duty, young fellow,” he says and strides away.
Izzie’s lips twitch. “Shall we head back to the cabin and clean up for lunch? There’s nothing like an exhilarating horse ride to fire up the appetite. I bet you’re starving.”
“I could eat a horse,” I grumble. Izzie laughs as we dismount and hand our horses over to the staff. Hopefully they’ll give Bessie an extra portion of oats after her mad dash.
“Jethro mentioned they’re offering a lunch buffet, complete with cowboy casserole, cowboy beef dip, and campfire cobbler,” she informs me, obviously trying to cheer me up with the mention of food.
“What? No cowboy beans or chuck wagon chili?” I grouse.
She taps on her chin, then says, “He did say there’s greenhorn stew.”
I roll my eyes as her laugh tinkles around me. Once the General finds out about my horse ride, I’m never going to live it down.