CHAPTER 25 #2
“Yes. The left side is the right side. You mount the horse on the left side.”
I shrug. “I was taught how to ride by an Englishman. They mount their horses on the other side, just like they drive on the opposite side of the road.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “That’s incorrect.”
“Why, I never,” I say, clutching at my chest.
“You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”
“I do know how to ride a horse. It’s just been a very long time.” A long time since I fed them the contents from our crisper drawer, anyway.
He sighs. “Today is your first refresher lesson, then. I’ll be right next to you. No worries.”
“I don’t believe you,” I tell him. But I do. I’ve seen him in action. He’s John Wayne MacLaine, a born protector. Of his family. His land. His country. And now, me.
He walks me around to the other side of the horse and spins me, his hands on my waist. For a split second, I think he’s going to kiss me.
Instead, he lifts me up and tells me to swing my leg over the saddle.
Then he puts my feet in the stirrups, adjusts the leather straps, and then adjusts whatever belt goes under the horse’s body.
Finally, he places both my hands on the saddle horn and squeezes them until I grip the horn.
“Just hold on and don’t tense up. Keep your heels down. Let your body move with the horse,” he says. “Sit tall and balanced, picturing a weighted string dropped down from your ear to your shoulder, to your hip, to your heel. Settle into the saddle. I’ll do the rest. We’re going to move slowly.”
Cal’s grumpy personality has vanished. I notice that around the horses, and now that he’s aware that he’s responsible for this idiot’s safety, he’s gentle and calm. No negative energy. A leader.
He slips the reins over the horse’s head and carries them as he moves to the black horse.
After mounting, he says, “Trixie is accustomed to Leroy, and she’ll follow.
She’ll stay a bit behind us, to the side.
” With some kind of invisible signal, Cal’s horse begins to walk and mine follows, just as Cal predicted.
I watch him use one hand for his reins and the other to hold Trixie’s.
The Palomino is tall, and it’s not lost on me that there’s a great deal of empty space between me and the ground. Falling would absolutely hurt. But so far, I haven’t fallen. My knees naturally grip onto the horse, and my hands squeeze the saddle horn.
“Relax a bit, Victoria,” Cal says. “If your legs are pressed into her sides when Trixie is already moving forward, she’ll think you want her to speed up.”
“But I don’t!”
“Exactly. So sink deep into the saddle, relax your arms, and just picture yourself as being a part of Trixie.”
“Okay.” I’m trying not to hyperventilate.
“You’re doing great.” Cal guides us away from the houses and the barn, into a meadow, and west toward the mountains.
About fifteen minutes later, I feel like I’m getting the general idea. I think Trixie likes it when I’m relaxed. I’m proud of myself and somewhat surprised that I haven’t fallen. Maybe I was right—how hard can it be?
“Look,” I whisper. “I’m doing it.”
Cal glances back at me and nods. “You’re a born horsewoman,” he says.
I don’t detect any sarcasm. Maybe he’s just being kind. “Let’s gallop!” I say.
“Not this time,” he says with a laugh.
“Is there anything between this slow thing we’re doing and a gallop?”
“Yes. There’s a lope and a canter. But we’ll save those for later too.”
So we keep riding along like tortoises, which allows me to just enjoy the beauty around me.
San Diego is a gorgeous location, but the beauty at Yosemite Ranch is a whole different animal.
It’s majestic. Wild. Here we are in a soft meadow filled with flowers when around us are snow-capped mountains, red-rocked mesas, lakes, and rivers.
I scan the view in every direction, savoring it. Maybe if I commit it to memory, I’ll be able to recall the details when I’m gone.
“You okay, Victoria?”
“Oh, absolutely. Just in awe.”
“I never get tired of it. Never will.”
Cal must have carried out some other invisible command because Trixie pulls up alongside him. I look over to see him smile. It melts me. I immediately think I need to cover my reaction with conversation.
“You know,” I say. “At first I wondered why you left your Navy career for the ranch. Now I wonder, how did you ever leave in the first place?”
He seems to appreciate the question, and I wonder if it’s because he’s proud of his answer.
“A man needs adventure, challenge.” Cal pauses, as if he’s on the edge of sharing something with me, something that matters to him so much that he needs to be careful.
“And since I grew up in this thousand-square-mile land of untamed adventure, I knew I would need something way bigger and totally different in order to find that challenge.”
He tips his head and shares a thoughtful smile.
“Plus, there’s the patriot part. I was born into privilege, where we worked hard but were incredibly fortunate to be surrounded by such beauty and abundance.
I wanted to give back. Do something to strengthen our nation. I think all of us felt the same.”
His answer surprises me. He really does sound more like John Wayne than a man of his time.
I feel proud of him, though that’s ridiculous.
I imagine Jamie couldn’t be prouder of what his boys have accomplished.
Somehow, I suspect he’s most proud of Cal, his oldest, the one who set the bar so high for all of them.
“Was it difficult, Cal? Did you face a lot of danger as a Navy SEAL?”
“You don’t want to hear about that,” he says, his voice soft. “It might ruin this otherwise perfect day.”
I realize my question was silly. Of course he saw his fair share of horrible things while in the service. It’s not my place to pry. If things were different, I’d just go over and give him a big hug. But things aren’t different. They’re complicated. And we’re on horseback.
We haven’t even talked about that kiss. And it’s sitting between us now, like a mountain of unexplored questions. Even if I could and did hug him, it wouldn’t be enough. Once my arms got around him, I might not be able to let go.
We ride side-by-side for a few more moments until I feel Cal’s eyes on me.
I turn to meet his gaze. His stare unnerves me.
Even in the sunlight, his eyes aren’t a pale purple or a lavender.
They’re dark and rich and dangerous, just like the rest of him.
And right this moment, they’re focused on me with an intensity I’ve never experienced before.
Our walk speeds up. Trixie decides she’s tired of letting another horse set the pace. Cal continues to glance my way, his body swaying softly with the movement of his horse.
I hold his gaze.
It’s true that many men have been attracted to me over the years. More than a few have wanted me and weren’t at all shy about letting me know it. One man asked me to marry him, and I nearly said yes. I was damn lucky to learn the truth about him before it was too late.
But the situation with Cal is different. Never has my reaction to a man been this fierce, this blistering hot. One look from him and I blush. My mouth goes dry. One crook of his eyebrow and my panties get wet. Before I know it, there’s tingling between my legs.
And then comes the ache, the agony of unsatisfied need. Like what I’m feeling right now.
I shift in the saddle and squeeze my legs together to dull the sensation. And the world shoots out beneath me.
Trixie takes off like a bullet. She turns right and runs.
I look down at the earth blurring beneath me, the reins slicing through the meadow grass and whipping in the wind.
I can do nothing but hold on to the saddle horn and try to remember something—anything—that might save my life.
I know if I fall while going this fast, in this terrain, it really will be the end of me.
“Cal!” I scream into the rush of air, but my cry gets sucked back into my mouth and is silenced.
I instinctively press down, lower my center of gravity while I hold on to the saddle horn.
I twist the fingers of one hand into the horse’s mane.
With the other, I try in vain to reach out and grab one of the reins, but it’s a lost cause—the strips of leather are flying around wildly.
If I stretch too far, I’ll definitely fall, and probably get trampled by the horse’s rear hooves.
“Whoa!” I yell. “WHOA, DAMMIT!” Pointless. The horse ignores me. That’s when I realize that my thighs are gripping Trixie’s sides like the jaws of life. She must think I want her to go even faster! What have I done? Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I need to relax. I want to relax. I tell myself to stop squeezing so hard, but it’s counterintuitive. I can’t seem to do it.
I don’t know how much longer I can stay on. I’m going to fall.
Just then, Trixie jumps over a rock outcropping blurring under us, and for an instant, I’m weightless, flying. When she comes back down to earth, I slam back into the saddle, lopsided. My feet have slipped from the stirrups.
I’m going over.
I hear the sound of Cal’s horse pounding the ground and gaining on me. I say a silent prayer that he reaches me before I hit the ground. If not, it’ll be his horse that kills me.
I shut my eyes tight, resigned to what’s about to happen, when I feel two strong hands grab me under the arms and lift me up. I’m thrown belly down across his lap, one arm holding me in place as he brings his horse to a stop.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Cal dismounts and drags me off his horse, then pulls me into his arms. My feet are off the ground.
He’s got me clutched tight to his body. His heart slams in his chest, and I hear myself whimper against his shirt.
My mouth opens wide, and I freeze like that.
I can’t breathe. I can’t get any air in my lungs.
“You’re in shock.” Cal sets me on my feet. He drops to the ground, pulling me onto his lap. He rubs my back. “Breathe, Victoria. Come on. Take a breath.”
I can’t respond.
“It’ll pass. But you have to breathe.”
My eyes are bulging. My face feels lava hot. My lungs burn.
“Breathe,” he whispers in my ear.
I do it—I take a huge gulp of air and breathe it out. My entire body starts to shake.
“You’re going to be all right.” His arms hold me. He pulls me even closer. I bring my arms around his neck and bury my face into the crook of his shoulder. He shelters me in his arms.
His strength and his warmth are the only things keeping me from shattering.
He rocks softly, rubs my back, and reassures me.
I soon become alert enough to hear heavy breathing, snorting, and munching.
I look up, squinting into the sun to see a white horse tail flicking near our heads.
It’s her. Trixie, the demon horse. Having a snack.
On our other side is Leroy, who looks like the coolest kid in school, just chewing and enjoying the breeze ruffling his mane.
That’s it. I hate horses.
I go back to hiding my face in Cal’s neck. I grip him tightly, never wanting to let go. Eventually, my body believes that the danger has passed. My breathing returns to normal.
Cal senses my improvement and loosens his embrace. His hand still caresses my back with long, languid movements.
“That’s all my fault,” he says. His velvety, deep voice is barely audible, and I wonder if he’s speaking to me or to himself. “I apologize, Victoria. I let my desires get the better of me and I didn’t protect you. My actions are unforgivable.”
I don’t understand what he means by his desires. His desire to take me out on a ride? His desire to spend time with me? Something else?
“No, Cal.” I straighten, placing my hand on the side of his face.
His expression is heartbreaking to see—guilt, remorse, and fear.
And I did that to him. I stroke his cheek.
“It’s my fault for not telling you I couldn’t ride.
It was stupid. I was stupid. I take responsibility for not protecting myself. You are not at fault.”
“Victoria, when you’re with me, your safety is my responsibility. More than just your safety. I need… I want…”
His voice drifts off. I don’t dare push him to tell me what he wants. I understand that we’ve just shared a moment of intimacy, and worse, of weakness, something that neither of us is comfortable with in our day-to-day lives.
He doesn’t want to be honest about what he wants, and I don’t either. Because what we want is impossible.
At least we’re in agreement about that.
“I should’ve learned to ride when I was a kid, when I had the chance. I let fear get in the way.”
“Some fear is essential. If we don’t listen to that little voice—our intuition or sixth sense or whatever you want to call it—we’re doomed.”
“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy,” I say.
He cocks his head to the side and gives me the boyish half-smile that melts my heart. “I guess Willie the Shake was more articulate than me. Go figure.”
“Shakespeare or not, I doubt you’re afraid of much, Callum MacLaine.”
“I’m afraid of too much.” His voice is so soft I can barely hear it. He pulls me tight again, presses his cheek to mine. “Can you feel my heartbeat? If you can, then you know about my fear—that I almost lost you.”