Page 18 of Set It Right
After a decade of vacationing on the ranch, the Kellers had done every activity available. Mrs. Keller was an accomplished rider, even if she pretended to be a feeble old woman. If she expected anything more than my arm for support, I might’ve called her on it, but when it came down to it, there were worse fates than entertaining a spoiled guest.
“Well, of course I do.” She flicked her hand dismissively. “Riding with you would just be a lot more fun.”
“I’ll be close. Don’t worry.”
My eyes landed on Zara outside the barn, and I lost track of what she was saying. Wearing boots, snug jeans, a T-shirt, and cowboy hat, she looked like she belonged right where she was: surrounded by horses and a couple ranch hands, kicking up dust as she checked saddles, the bright sun beating down on her shoulders.
Her skin was a deeper gold than it had been a few days ago, and the purple beneath her eyes had faded. Seemed the sunshine was doing her a world of good.
She lifted her head, turning in our direction, and her brow rose. Then she noticed the woman clinging to me, and the corner of her mouth hitched.
I shrugged, almost sheepish, heat crawling up my neck.
She turned away, but not fast enough for me to miss her laugh.
My gut rocked like a ship in a bottle. Whatwasthat?
It felt way too familiar. A tease of years gone by, when laughing at each other had been second nature. We weren’t there. I didn’t know if we ever would be. But damn, getting a glimpse of our past in the curve of her lips was nice.
“Is that your new guide?” Mrs. Keller asked.
“That’s Zara. She’s new, but she spent a lot of time on the ranch as a kid.”
She eyed me with interest. “Oh, that’s nice. Were you childhood sweethearts?”
I frowned at her. “What makes you think that?”
She rolled her eyes and patted my arm. “I might be old, but my vision’s perfect.”
“I’m sorry,” I swiped at my brow, “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Sure, darling.” She squeezed my hand then strode toward Zara with purpose, all her earlier wobbliness forgotten. “Hello! I’m here for the trail ride. Which of these beauties is mine?”
I stayed back, letting Zara handle Mrs. Keller. She wasn’t having any trouble with her either. Together, they decided which horse she would ride, and by the time she was mounted in her saddle, Mrs. Keller declared Zara would be a perfect match for her son.
Considering George was close to forty, twice divorced, and a raging misogynist, I didn’t agree. Turned out I didn’t have to worry either. Zara managed to shut it down without breaking a sweat.
Two other men joined our group. The first in jeans that were dark and stiff, like they’d never met dirt, and boots that were new and shiny clean. The other wore a pressed button-down, the sleeves rolled exactly once, creases still sharp. Some of our guests were true outdoorsmen. Others were cosplaying. I suspected these guys were the latter.
Zara moved between the horses, tightening cinches, adjusting stirrups, murmuring low reassurances that had twitching ears and swishing tails settling under her hands.
“All right,” she stated, planting herself where everyone could see her. “Helmets are optional, common sense is not. Keep at least a horse length between you and the rider in front of you, and if you need something, let me know.”
“I’ve ridden before,” New Boots said, a little too quickly.
Zara smiled at him with patience. “That’s nice. This horse hasn’t carriedyoubefore.”
Mrs. Keller snorted.
Zara turned to the second man. “You’re on Ranger.”
He didn’t hide his nerves as well. “Is he well-behaved?”
Zara smoothed her hand up Ranger’s sleek, black neck. “He’s a great horse for beginners. You’ll do fine together.”
She stopped in front of me then, Dusty shifting impatiently at my side. Her gaze swept over me once, head to boots, assessing.
“You’re good, right?”
