Chapter Seven #2
Rawley paused at the first door on the right, his hand turning the brass knob before he nodded for her to enter.
Her breath caught as she took in the cedar four-poster bed, its rich amber grain catching the sunlight streaming through lace curtains, positioned cattycorner with a massive cedar chest whose ornate carvings whispered of family heirlooms. Light yellow wallpaper adorned the walls, patterned with delicate vines that seemed to climb toward the crown molding.
A matching dresser with an oval mirror reflected her face, while a chest of drawers sat nearby.
Rawley opened a second door, revealing a bathroom where a gleaming white clawfoot tub commanded attention, its brass fixtures winking in the light, complemented by a porcelain sink and toilet.
The floor was made up of beige tiles. Beyond this sanctuary lay another bedroom, where white furniture, pristine as fresh snow, contrasted with lavender wallpaper that reminded her of spring twilight. The bathroom sat between the two rooms.
Then he led her out into the hallway, opened a door on the opposite side of the hall, and she peered in to see an office with plush dark blue carpeting that her feet sank into like velvet moss.
A massive cherry desk gleamed under the natural light, positioned regally with its back to three tall windows that framed a panoramic view of the manicured backyard.
Floor-to-ceiling shelves overflowed with leather-bound books, their spines a tapestry of rich colors against the mahogany-paneled wall.
Two wingback chairs, upholstered in buttery caramel leather, sat expectantly before the desk where a sleek desktop computer sat.
“There’s also another bathroom beside the office,” he mentioned, his voice echoing slightly in the corridor.
They proceeded to the final door before the staircase that descended into the kitchen. When he swung it open, she stepped inside and froze, her eyes widening as she took in the spacious bedroom with its vaulted ceiling and crown molding.
“It’s... breathtaking,” she whispered, her voice catching.
“The bathroom is through there,” he said, nodding toward an ornate door with crystal knobs that sparkled in the afternoon light.
Skylar glanced at him, then approached the bathroom door with anticipation. She pushed it open and couldn’t suppress a gasp of delight.
“Oh, my. I want to use that tub. I love the double-sided fireplace.”
Rawley’s strong arms encircled her waist from behind, his lips brushing the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder, sending shivers down her spine.
“I’m sure you’ll want to do that when we get back,” he murmured, his breath warm against her skin.
She stood mesmerized by the striking black-and-white elegance.
The linen closet and vanity were crafted from ebony wood with porcelain knobs that stood out like stars against a midnight sky.
The tub and pedestal sink gleamed pristine white, while the floor featured an intricate checkerboard pattern of Italian marble tiles.
The glass-enclosed shower dominated one wall, a luxurious sanctuary with multiple brass showerheads positioned strategically to massage away tension.
She approached the enormous jacuzzi tub, running her fingertips along its smooth edge, enchanted by how the bay window above created dappled patterns of golden sunshine that striped the floor.
The fireplace sat at the end of the tub.
Rawley leaned against the doorframe, his tall frame silhouetted by the golden light streaming through the windows. “Are you ready to head out?” he asked.
“Yes,” Skylar replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I packed us a lunch. We can stop at the pond.”
“I’d love that.” The thought of sitting by still waters under dappled shade made her smile.
“Good. Let’s go.”
They descended the staircase and stepped into the sun-drenched kitchen, where Rawley walked to a row of at least twelve cowboy hats hanging on pegs; straw ones, felt ones, some worn at the edges, others pristine. When she cleared her throat, he turned, one eyebrow arched questioningly.
“What?”
“Just how many cowboy hats does one man need? You only have one head,” Skylar said, gesturing at the collection.
“Well, technically I have—” His eyes twinkled mischievously.
“Do not say it!” She laughed.
He strode across the room, pulled her into his arms, and pressed his lips to hers, then deepened it when she slid her arms around his neck. He lifted his lips and stared into her eyes.
“We’d better go. If we don’t leave now, we never will.”
“I’m okay with that.” She smiled.
Rawley chuckled. “Me too, but I try to ride as much as I can. We can stay in once we get back. Oh, I do have to leave this evening around six. I’m having dinner with my parents.”
“Okay. That’s fine. Let’s go.”
He nodded, opened the fridge door, removed two bagged lunches, took her hand, lifted a hat off the rack, and they walked out into the heat.
“I’m glad to see you have a cowboy hat too,” he said as she put one on her head.
“Yeah, because God knows you don’t have one I could borrow.” She shook her head.
“Hey, no one wears my hats.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at her.
“Please. I’ll go in there and get one,” she said, placing her hands on her hips.
Rawley laughed. “I’d let you.”
They held hands as they walked across the yard, then entered the barn. After letting their eyes adjust, he led her along the stalls.
“So, you can ride?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Pick your horse. Any except the chestnut.”
“Alright.” She walked in front of the stalls until she came to a Paint that stared at her with blue eyes. “Hey there. You are gorgeous.”
“That’s Chanel. She’s a six-year-old Paint. My sister used to ride her.”
“Why doesn’t she now?”
“She moved to Liberty, Montana right after she got married.”
“Is it alright if I ride her horse?”
“Of course. Chanel is my horse, but Betsy always chose her when she wanted to ride. Let me get the tack. I’ll be right back. You can lead her out if you’d like.”
“I do.” Skylar opened the stall gate, entered and rubbed the horse’s velvet nose.
“You are just stunning.” She hooked a lead to the halter and led the horse out, then hooked her to a rail.
She saw Rawley walking back toward her and she couldn’t stop her eyes from raking over his body, hesitating on his crotch, then down to his well-worn cowboy boots.
He set everything on the rail, then went back to the tack room to get more.
“Is this my saddle?” she called out.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll saddle her for you,” he said when he reemerged.
“I’m more than capable of saddling a horse, Rawley. I’ll probably need the stirrups adjusted, but you do yours and I’ll do mine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He walked across the aisle, opened a gate, then led a big chestnut out. His coat gleaming from the sun shining through the windows in the roof.
****
Rawley leaned against a weathered post in the barn’s dusty aisle, sunlight slanting through the slats and dancing across the straw underfoot.
He watched Skylar move with confident precision as she cinched the girth strap around the horse’s barrel.
Fine beads of sweat dotted her brow, and with each deliberate tug she refused help, an image of quiet determination.
Then she bent to pet the dogs, their coats gleaming, tails wagging, and raced down the aisle in a flurry of barking and jingling tags.
“They know where they’re going, don’t they?” she asked, smiling as she watched them run.
Rawley smiled, the rough wood of the post creaking beneath him. “They go with me every time.”
“How do you find time to ride?” She folded her arms, watching him.
He shrugged. “If I’m not too late getting home, I’ll take a short ride. Some days I don’t get out at all, so I wait for the weekends.”
Skylar hooked her boot into the stirrup, her fingers curling around the saddle horn. She hauled herself into the seat with ease, settling into the leather saddle’s contours. She turned to him with a grin.
“Could you do that again?” he teased, voice low, making her laugh.
“Just adjust my stirrups, cowboy.”
He stepped forward and set her stirrups just so. Then he laid a hand gently on her knee and looked up at her.
“Okay?”
“Perfect,” she said softly, and held his gaze.
He stepped closer, voice rumbling, “Maybe we don’t need to go riding.”
She shook her head, laughing. “We’re going riding.”
He chuckled, backing away to mount. “Alright.”
“Your horse is beautiful.”
“He’s a good horse.”
“What’s his name?”
“Twizzler,” Rawley said, sliding into his saddle with ease.
She laughed. “Because he’s red, right?”
“Yes, ma’am. We call him Twiz.” He touched his heel to the horse’s side. “Ready?”
“Yep.” She nudged her mount forward; the animal moved with a soft snort.
Rawley muttered under his breath, “You are in a shitload of trouble. You’re way too attracted to her.”
“What?” she asked from behind him.
“Nothing. Talking to myself.” He grinned, posture relaxed.
“This is so pretty, Rawley.”
“I can never look at it enough. Let’s head east and take the trail.”
“I’m following you.”
“Darlin’, you can follow me anywhere.”
They rode out of the barnyard into rolling pastures dappled with buttercups.
The trail wound beneath high cottonwoods, their leaves tinkling in a gentle breeze.
After an hour of easy canter, Rawley guided his horse to a shaded bank beside a still pond.
They dismounted, as the horses nosed at tufted grass, tails swishing away flies.