A Convenient Proposal - By Lynnette Kent Page 0,42

sneakers. She took me to a tack shop and helped me find what I needed.”

Griff shook his head. “That girl is an expert when it comes to shopping and spending money—other people’s money, especially.” Then he grinned. “But I love her. I’m not complaining, as far as you’re concerned. You will enjoy the ride more without a pair of jeans chafing your legs. And the gloves are a good idea—you have soft hands. So, are you ready?”

“I’m ready,” she declared, then swallowed hard. “I think.”

“You’ll do fine.” He led her to the pasture behind the cottage, took a couple of halters off the rack by the gate and handed her the red one.

“This is for Dorsey. She’s the quietest, gentlest mare on the planet and pretty much goes on autopilot. All you have to do is sit there and look beautiful.” He winked at Arden. “So you’ve got this covered.”

She smiled. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“That’s what I’m hoping.” To prove it, he leaned in for a quick kiss.

And then lingered, because the truth was he could have kissed her all day long, could have turned both of them around to go back to the cottage and its warm, cozy bed. Every minute he spent holding her, every hour they spent making love, left him completely satisfied, and at the same time hungry for more—an unsolvable, delicious dilemma.

But he banked the fire she’d ignited and called up a grin, instead. “Let’s get those horses.”

The animals, of course, had decided to spend their morning in a sunny spot at the corner of the field farthest from the gate. They looked up from nosing the ground as the humans approached.

“Dorsey is the dark one,” Griff told Arden, “the bay with the white moon on her forehead. Cowboy is brown and white and black—a tricolor pinto, we call him. Or paint.” He demonstrated with Cowboy how to put on a halter. “Nose through here, pull up behind the jaw, then buckle behind the ears. That’s all there is to it. Now you try on Dorsey.”

After just a couple of false starts, Arden got the halter in place. She grinned at Griff in triumph and he nodded.

“Good job. Now we lead them to the barn.” He pointed in the general direction. “Back across the field, through the gate on the other side and then to the left behind those trees.”

A quick study, Arden followed his instructions about brushing and hoof cleaning without a problem, thanks in part to Dorsey’s patient nature. The saddles and bridles followed quickly, then they went back to the stable yard to mount.

“There’s nothing to hold on to,” Arden said, staring at the English saddle on Dorsey’s back. “How do I stay on? For that matter, how do I get there?”

“That horn you were expecting just gets in the way,” Griff assured her. “Come around here, to the mounting block.” Leading Dorsey, he positioned her beside the low set of steps. “Climb to the top,” he instructed Arden. “Put your left foot in the stirrup…yep. Grab her mane with your left hand—no, you won’t hurt her. Hold the saddle with your right. Now just swing that right leg up and over. Up, up…and over. Then sit. See? Not so hard.”

“Whew.” She looked scared and excited at the same time. “It’s farther from the ground than I thought.” Wiggling a little, she settled in. “And the reins?”

“Like this.” He showed her how to position the leather straps through her fingers. “Just leave them loose for now. Dorsey won’t go anywhere until Cowboy does. So I’ll park you right here—” he led her a few steps ahead “—until I get on, and then we’ll ride.”

He mounted Cowboy without using the block, and found Arden staring at him when he sat down.

“How do you do that from the ground? He’s so tall.”

“Practice—I’ve been doing this since my head only came to the bottom of the stirrup.” He brought Cowboy alongside Dorsey. “The hard part’s done. Now we just sit and look at the scenery.”

Griff couldn’t have asked for a nicer morning. The horses behaved, and Arden gradually relaxed until she looked as if she belonged in the saddle. He’d missed the farm in his months away, so reacquainting himself with the nooks and crannies, the hills and dells and groves, was a pleasure all in itself.

Arden didn’t talk a lot, but a woman who lived alone would not, by nature, be a gabbler. He didn’t know any of her habits very well, although