Cowboy Enchantment - By Pamela Browning Page 0,18

world,” she said. She raised both hands to fluff her hair back from her face, and he noted that her fingernails were long and lacquered shell-pink.

He felt a line unreel somewhere in the vicinity of his heart. It seemed to flow out from him and twirl around her, lassoing her neatly and pulling her toward him. He blinked and it went away. If it had ever been there.

He introduced Erica to Melba and handed her an apple to feed the mare. Erica grinned when Melba left a thread of slobber on her hands. He half expected her to go “Eeuuw!” but all she did was wipe her hand on her jeans. Too-big jeans, he saw now, remembering that she’d worn them last night. He wondered what they concealed. A derriere too large? Bony hips? No curves at all? He couldn’t tell, but he thought that the jeans were a sensible choice. Too many women showed up for their lessons wearing skin-tight pants that allowed no freedom of movement.

He spent more than half an hour expounding on the basics, such as how to hold the reins, how to direct the horse, that sort of thing. Erica listened attentively, her eyes seldom leaving his face, her hands folded demurely in front of her.

“Now you’re going to ride a horse. Come here to the left side of her,” he instructed, walking around. Erica followed him and stood looking at him quizzically, waiting.

“The way you’ll do this,” Hank began, “is to stand by the horse’s left shoulder.” He handed her the reins. “Hold these in your left hand and grip her mane. Go ahead.”

She took the reins from him, her brief touch engendering a little brrrrip! of sensation. The desert air, he thought. It’s dry, and static electricity will develop under such conditions, that was all it was.

“In your right hand, grasp the cantle.” He pointed to it. “That’s what we call the back of the saddle.”

Erica did that, too. “Now I’m going to give you a leg up,” he said. He formed his hands into a stirrup. “Your left foot goes here.”

She looked at him for a long moment, those eyes wide and bright. He realized that she wasn’t wearing her usual glasses. As if she’d read his mind, she took her sunglasses out of her pocket and shoved them on. Then she placed her booted foot into his cupped hands and he lifted her up until she’d swung her other leg over the horse. He got a quick glimpse of the fabric pulled tightly over her derriere and realized that those baggy jeans didn’t hide any figure fault at all. In fact, she appeared nicely rounded and firm.

“I think I’ll need a stirrup adjustment,” she said, and he realized that he had almost forgotten he was working.

He notched the stirrups up on each side, noticing that her feet were in the correct stirrup position with the heels pointed down. Most beginners didn’t know to do that.

“Good heel position,” he said, but she relaxed her feet so that the heels assumed their natural position. She looked guilty, then crooked the heels again until they were correctly placed.

“Settle your weight backward,” he instructed, watching until her bottom slid backward to the dip in the saddle. “And now squeeze your legs against Melba’s sides to start her going.”

He had a vision of Erica’s legs squeezing him, before he yanked himself back to the moment and to Erica. She followed his direction, causing Melba to begin walking sedately around the ring.

“Keep your heels away from the horse’s sides,” he warned. “And look where you’re going, not down at the horse.”

When Melba had made one circle of the ring, he called to Erica, “Take her around again. You’re looking good. Have you had lessons before?”

“It was a long time ago.”

He watched her as Melba, a sweet-natured hack who was accustomed to new riders, plodded patiently around the corral. He instructed Erica to shift her weight back in the saddle when she pulled on the reins to stop the horse, to move forward when the horse went forward.

He liked the way Erica sat the saddle. She looked relaxed, her back straight but not stiff. He thought she had the bearing of a natural horsewoman, rare to see in beginners.

After several more circuits of the ring, Erica reined Melba in. “Isn’t my hour up?”

He glanced at his watch, and sure enough, it almost was. “You have a couple of minutes left on the clock.” He couldn’t believe how fast