Part 10 (2/2)

He grabbed my other arm and turned me around to face him.

”I still think you should get a matching tattoo,” he said.

I shook my head. ”If I choose to desecrate my flesh, it'll be with a critter I'm more partial to than Ricky Racc.o.o.n,” I said, wis.h.i.+ng I'd known he was going to drop by. When you're up close with a hottie, you'd rather not smell like manure, mighty mutts, and horse. ”So, what brings you out this way?”

”I wanted to wish you luck. I hear you're heading west later today.”

I nodded. I planned to catch a ride with Taylor and Frankie. No way was I spending an additional two hours in Drew Van Vleet's company. We'd practically be joined at the hip for the next week as it was. No sense extending the torture.

”We're leaving after lunch. That'll give me time to finish here and shower. I'm going to help get the Freeze Mobile set up. I guess traditionally there's a TribRide eve s.h.i.+ndig planned.”

Beer. Brats. A country band. A good ol' girl's down-home good time.

”I'd hoped to have some time to take you out with the tandem and give you some tips,” Townsend said, reaching up and tucking a stray, sweaty curl behind my ear. ”But this week's been a bear what with state-wide firearms and CPR recertification. I don't like the idea of you riding without proper preparation.”

”That's okay. Van Vleet's been a real pain in the padded bike shorts,” I said. ”He had us out from dawn to dusk, stopping and starting. Mounting, dismounting. Going up hills and down hills. Turning left. Turning right.” I felt my body move side to side and up and down with each verbal cue. Ugh. I'd better add motion sickness pills to the checklist.

”It's good that you'll have Taylor there to keep an-” Townsend left the rest unsaid. Probably because I'd turned from putty in his arms to Play-Doh that's been left out too long.

”Keep an eye on me? Is that what you were going to say?” I asked. ”Need I remind you, Mr. Ranger, Sir, that I happen to be the big sister in the Turner pecking order? If anyone should be keeping an eye on someone, it should be I. Er...me.”

Son of a...gun.

Like a bad penny, the old insecurity was back. Just when I thought I'd proven I was capable of looking out for myself, someone, by word or by deed, would resurrect those old familiar doubts, and I was right back to Miss Righteous Indignation.

Dej doubt time all over again.

”That's not what I meant, Tressa,” Rick said, alerted to the need for damage control. ”I just feel better knowing you have family going along for the ride. That's all. I'd feel that way about any novice rider.”

”Novice rider?”

That's what I was to him? A novice rider?

Okay. On one level, I realized I was being deliberately difficult. But the stress of the last several weeks-not the least of which was the post-cruise, post-coital second-guessing-had my innards knotted up worse than the macrame hanging planter holders Gram tried to make two years ago.

”Novice bicycle rider,” Townsend clarified. ”But, put you on a horse-or in a cruise s.h.i.+p cabin-and your riding is anything but amateur hour.”

I could feel my backbone give slightly. Tell me. What cowgirl wouldn't want to be praised on her...riding ability?

”I was thinking,” Townsend said, lowering his mouth to nuzzle my neck. ”Maybe we could finish what we started the other night. You know. When your mother came bearing junk food. You mentioned a shower...”

I swallowed way loud. ”You might be right,” I said. ”It's probably not a good thing to leave things...unfinished.” My breath now came in fits and starts. ”You know. Considering I'll be...unavailable in the short term.”

Townsend sighed against my ear and brought his hands up to cup the sides of my face. ”I'm hoping to make you unavailable in the long term,” he whispered.

What? Wait! What was that? What did he say? My thoughts ricocheted off each other like spastic pinb.a.l.l.s. He couldn't mean- Steady, girl. Steady.

For a long moment, he looked into my eyes, the level of intensity in his gaze apparent from how his irises grew darker and darker.

I couldn't look away.

”What...are...you...saying?” I managed to squeak out.

Blackjack suddenly shoved his nose between Townsend and me.

Whop!

Snort!

Bl...oo...w!

”Ugh!” Strings of mucous and gobs of gunk covered Townsend's face. ”Son of a b-! What the h.e.l.l?”

I shoved Blackjack's head away ”Blackjack! No!”

Jack nudged Townsend's shoulder again, leaving behind a big patch of greenish, white spittle.

”Jack, go away! Go! Move!” I shoved the big horse away. ”Oh, G.o.d, Townsend. What a mess! I'm so sorry!”

Townsend shook his head and put a hand up to his face.

”That's all right. I needed a shower,” he said. ”You know. I don't think your horses like me much.”

”Only Jack,” I said. ”He gets jealous.”

Townsend grabbed a handkerchief out of his back pocket and wiped it across his forehead and eyes.

I looked at his uniform. ”Ugh. Your s.h.i.+rt. It's gonna need professional cleaning,” I told him. ”That green is pasture gra.s.s.”

”Maybe we could go in and put it to soak,” Rick suggested with that telltale Townsend gleam in his eye.

”We could do that.”

”Besides, I have something to give you.”

I felt my toes curl in my boots. ”I'll bet you do,” I managed. ”I'll just put the comb and brush away.”

I hurried to the barn and tossed the grooming tools on the bench and shut the barn door behind me, stopping to appreciate the picture Townsend made as he leaned on the barnyard gate, trying to make nice with Blackjack, who, unfortunately, was having none of it.

G.o.d, he was a looker. Townsend, that is, not Blackjack. Which is not to say Jack isn't a striking piece of horseflesh. Oh, you know what I meant.

I sighed.

<script>