Page 53 of His Saving Grace

Mason showed her how to saddle and bridle the horse, not that she’d ever remember, and then helped her into the saddle. His grip lingered on her hip, the heat from his hand branding her through the denim.

He gave her a crash course on the basics of riding. Stuff about using the reins as a guide along with her knees, or something. She was too distracted by his hand, and how close he was, and how easy it would be to lean down and press her lips to his, to catch most of the instructions. At this point, her goal was to stay in the saddle and not die.

When he was done with his lesson, he stood there for a handful of heartbeats, staring up at her. The air between them grew heavy, the tension pulling tighter than the string on a bow just before an arrow was launched.

The horse, sensing the mounting pressure, neighed and tossed her head. Mason squeezed Grace’s hip and her breath hitched. She wanted to reach out and touch him, run her fingers along his jaw, bury them in the softness of his hair. But he turned around and walked deeper into the stable before she could give in to the urge.

He opened the stall at the end of the line and led a gorgeous black horse out.

“Isn’t that Jake’s horse?”

“Yup.” He set about saddling and bridling the beast.

“Isn’t he going to be mad? I mean, without you asking or something?”

“Probably.” He finished, tied the basket on the back and swung up in the saddle. He did it with such fluidity and grace, it made her knees weak.

Or would have, had she been standing. That stupid band of pressure that had taken up residence low in her belly ever since she’d met Mason, gave a throb. She squirmed, trying to abate the ache inside her since last night. It didn’t work.

Mason urged his mount forward and passed by her and Buttercup, and headed out into the sun. She lifted the reins and gave them a flick. Buttercup started forward and a giddy thrill ran through Grace. Thankfully, the horse was calm and knew what she was doing, content to follow Mason as they made their way away from the buildings and out into the landscape.

They rode for a long time, Mason pointing out various landmarks, explaining the different pastures and what they were used for. He talked about the species of grass that needed to be planted and tended. They discussed the various types of cattle and what was raised on the ranch. And then she saw the herd and was awed by the sheer numbers. She never realized what five hundred cows looked like. Or what they’d sound and smell like. She wrinkled her nose and Mason laughed.

He then led her across the pastures and into the woods surrounding the property. The ranch was more than a thousand acres, not all of it pasture land. A portion of it was rocky, wooded terrain that increased in elevation the deeper they got.

The shade from the trees was welcome and wonderful. The horses plodded along, seeming to enjoy the cooler temperatures. They rode through the woods for about a half hour or so, the clomp of the horse’s hooves, the chirp of birds and the rustling of a cool breeze through the tops of the trees the only sounds.

They broke through and the horses came to a stop on the edge of an open field. The sun beat down, a semi-welcome change from the dense foliage of the woods. A trickle of sweat rolled down the side of her face, and she brushed it away with the back of her hand.

The field was full of tall, scratchy grass and beautiful wildflowers. Patches of purple and orange and pink popping against the yellow brush. Sadness prickled the back of her throat. The flowers weresimilar to the ones her mom used to grow in the window boxes of their little apartment.

Buttercup shifted underneath her and tossed her head, as if sensing the change in Grace’s mood. Grace jostled the melancholy aside, refusing to give it power. Today was about her and Mason, not the past and memories she refused to think about.

She patted the horse’s neck, hoping to calm her. A breeze kicked up, ruffling the hair that had escaped her cap. It was a welcome brush of coolness against her sweaty skin. A bird whistled and took flight, a dark mark against the crystalline blue of the cloudless sky. The sun reflected off a small creek on the far side of the field, and her mouth watered for a taste of the clean, crisp water. The spot was magical. A little oasis, where it was easy to imagine no one else existed. A small haven in the middle of the chaos of life on the ranch.

All of a sudden, Mason urged his horse into a gallop, racing away from her. He looked back at her over his shoulder and grinned. “Come on, slow-poke.”

Deciding to go with it, she dug her heels into Buttercup’s side. The horse took off faster than she anticipated, and she yelped in surprise. She leaned forward, holding on for dear life and praying she wouldn’t slip off and, you know, die.

They raced forward, and she began to realize she wasn’t going to plummet to her death. Buttercup was in control and as long as Grace didn’t do anything stupid, she’d be fine. She let the mantra run through her head a couple thousand times, hoping her body would eventually believe it.

The galloping motion of the horse was a full-body assault. All of her muscles clenched tight in a knot of fear and excitement. She bounced in the saddle, a rubber ball tossed against a wall.

Pretty sure there’s gonna be a permanent mark on my ass.

But it was worth it to see Mason’s grin as she chased him across the field. The air whipped past her, blowing her hat off, her hair coming loose to flow freely behind her. She laughed, enjoying being truly happy. It had been too long.

Mason had stopped on the other side of the field and then turned to watch her. She got closer. He was still smiling. Like always, that smile knocked her right in the solar plexus. She took a quick breath, suddenly feeling like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the atmosphere. The combination of everything made her feel light-headed and giddy.

“Whoa.” The command was breathy, but firm. She pulled back on the reins and gave a silent prayer.

Thankfully, Buttercup had gotten the memo that she was a rookie and slowed to a trot. And Grace didn’t embarrass herself by needing to be rescued.

She was supposed to lift her butt out of the saddle a bit during this portion, but it was hard, and hell on her thigh muscles. As a result, every step of the horse sent her ass thumping against the saddle. Yeah, there was no way that wasn’t going to leave a mark.

She reached Mason and reined the horse to a rather awkward stop, not even trying to hide her grin. Yeah, so it had been scary and a little reckless, but it had also been the most fun she’d had in a long time.

Her gaze swept the area. It was a lovely spot, situated at the edge of the trees which provided a lovely bit of shade. Grass and yellow wildflowers blanketed the ground and a crystal-clear creek cut through part of the landscape. It was pretty much the stuff of fairy tales.