She stepped in, caught the halter, clipped it fast.
The bay blew out a long, shaking breath.
Izzy sat astride Ghost, her chest rising and falling. Only then did she look up.
Grant was halfway across the paddock, stopped dead. Cal stood a few yards off, hands on his hips. Naomi’s gaze cut from the bay’s neck up to Izzy’s seat in the saddle.
“Good,” Naomi said, her voice rough. “Real good.”
Izzy swung down. Her legs went a little soft as her boots hit the dirt. The ground felt farther away than she remembered.
She took one step, and her knees dipped.
A hand caught her elbow.
“Easy there,” Cal said, steadying her. “I’ve got you.”
Heat rushed up her throat. She straightened, forcing her weight back into her heels.
“I’m fine,” she said, though her pulse was still pounding. “Just… haven’t been on the back of a horse in a long time.”
Cal’s mouth tipped. “Could’ve fooled me.”
Izzy’s chest was still heaving from the exertion.
“That was…” She searched for the word, her heart still racing against her ribs. “Wonderful.”
Color rose in her cheeks, the admission feeling almost more dangerous than the ride itself.
Cal stepped half an inch closer, his voice dropping into a low, smooth drawl. “Yeah? I bet it was. You look like you enjoyed the thrill.”
Grant was already moving toward them, his face a mask of control stretched thin over something that looked a lot like fear. He didn’t miss the flush on Izzy’s neck or the way Cal was leaning into her space; a flicker of surprise crossed his eyes as he realized how good she still was.
“What the hell was that?” he demanded.
Izzy eased her arm out of Cal’s grip but didn’t step back.
“What do you mean?”
“I didn’t know you could ride like that.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Mr. Scott,” she said, her voice steadying.
Grant ran a hand over his neck. “You could’ve gotten hurt.”
“So could the horse,” she countered.
Cal stayed close, grin edging back in. “I do like a woman who can ride. That wasn’t beginner work, Izzy.”
Naomi snorted as she led the bay away. “Good seat,” she tossed over her shoulder.
It landed harder than any compliment Izzy’d had in years.
9
The Next Morning
The previous evening had been quiet.
