* * *
“Good job, buddy. I knew you were on my side,” Colt whispered into Maverick’s ear as the stallion clomped along the trail a few feet behind Penny and Frost.
As soon as the horse had whinnied, interrupting Hunter’s obnoxious—and way too obvious—flirting, Colt felt an irrational bond with his new equine friend. Apparently, horsescouldsense human emotion. And Colt’s agitation had spoken volumes to the sympathetic stallion. Not that anyone could blame him for being irritated. Hunter had a lot of nerve hitting on Penny right in front of him. For all he knew, they were a couple.
Fueled by his frustration, Colt muttered, “What kind of name is Hunter, anyway?”
“What do you mean? It’s a pretty common name,” Penny responded over the rhythmicclip-clopof Frost’s hooves on the dirt trail.
“But Hunter West? For a guy who owns a dude ranch? C’mon, it’s clearly made up.”
Penny laughed. “Says the guy who’s literally named after a horse. A baby horse, to be exact.”
“Touché, Penelope Pitstop.” Colt cracked a teasing grin.
“Hey!” Penny twisted in the saddle to glare at him, although the shimmer in her coppery eyes belied her tone. “I amnotnamed after the Hanna-Barbera cartoon character.”
“My apologies, Punky Brewster.”
Her eyes narrowed further, although her lips curled at the edges. “I’m not named afterthatPenelope, either.”
“Don’t tell me….” Colt furrowed his brow in thought, loving the way she smirked, daring him to guess. “You’re the faithful wife of Odysseus from Homer’sOdyssey.”
Her eyes widened. “How did you know?”
“A striking beauty with many suitors? Let’s just say the name fits.”
She whipped her head forward, but not before Colt noticed the pink tint to her cheeks. “I don’t haveanysuitors, let alone many.”
“You have at least one,” he teased, realizingtwomight be more accurate.
For some reason, in this new environment, he’d started to see Penny in a completely different light.
And the thought of spending more time with her wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
“Not Hunter again,” she groaned.
“‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks.’”
“You’re incorrigible,” she mumbled. But even though he could no longer see her face, Colt heard her smile.
“When did you start going by Penny?”
“Since I was little. Although, my dad always called me Sweet P.”
Her voice softened at the admission, and she leaned forward to caress Frost’s mane.
Colt rolled the moniker over in his mind, appreciating the sound of it. “I like it. And I seem to recall coming up with my own nickname for you in third grade.”
Her laughter mingled with the twittering of songbirds in the branches overhead. “Don’t remind me!”
“What? You didn’t like Pepper? I thought it was kind of cute. You know, like a chili pepper. Because of your red hair.”
“Oh, I get it. I just didn’t like it. But it makes perfect sense now,” she giggled.
Curious, Colt cocked his head. “Meaning?”
“Meaning… you and spicy food don’t get along.” Tossing him an impish grin, she tapped Frost with her heels, and the horse gladly broke into a trot.
