Page 42 of Hudson
The white T-shirt fit him in a way that should have been illegal, faded jeans with a hole at one knee, and well-worn boots. He leaned against the porch railing and smiled down at her, and she was glad she’d worn her good jeans.
“You found it,” he said.
“GPS did the work.” She shielded her eyes and looked up at him. “This place is incredible, Hud.”
“Thanks.” He pushed off the railing and camedown the steps. “I’ll give you the tour after we ride.”
“I’d like that.”
He stopped a few feet from her and looked her over in a way that was appreciative without being rude about it. “You look great.”
“So do you,” she said, and then wished she’d played it a little cooler. But the way he grinned told her he didn’t mind.
“Horses are saddled and ready. Lunch is packed.” He nodded toward the barn. “You sure you’re up for this?”
She gave him a look. “I’ve been riding since I was six.”
He raised both hands. “Just checking.”
She laughed and fell into step beside him, and something about walking across that sun-warmed ground with the mountains sitting quiet in the distance made her feel like the week behind her had never happened at all.
Hud reached for her hand, and she gave it to him, letting him lead her toward the barn. He paused at the entrance to let their eyes adjust to the shade, then drew her down the aisle to where two horses stood cross-tied and ready. A big Paint with pale blue eyes and a buckskin, both tacked up and waiting.
“Which one do I get?”
“The buckskin.”
“He’s gorgeous.” She stepped toward him and ran her hand along his nose.
“Don’t let him fool you. He’s a complete baby. Name’s Toffee, five years old, and I’m pretty sure a stick of dynamite wouldn’t make him flinch.”
Blair smiled and turned to the Paint, stroking her nose. The mare stood well above the buckskin, tall and striking. “And who’s this?”
“Painted Lady. Lady for short.”
“How tall is she?”
“Seventeen hands. Comes by it honestly, it’s in her bloodlines. Toffee’s sixteen, quarter horse.”
“I’d love to ride her.”
Hud shook his head. “She won’t let anyone else on her. Never has.”
“That’s not fair.”
He chuckled. “Sorry. That’s just the way she is.” He handed Blair Toffee’s reins. “I need to grab our lunch from the tack room, then we can head out.”
While he was gone Blair stroked the buckskin’s neck and looked around the barn. It was clean and well-kept, the kind that came from people who actually worked it rather than just owned it.
Hud came back with two brown paper bags and tucked them into his saddlebags. She looked at him.
“How many acres is this place?”
“Hundred total. Split four ways.”
“Four ways?”
“My father and two brothers. We each run twenty-five.”
