Her message was clear. I could use some resetting of my own, and now was the perfect time to retune everything that had gotten so out of whack because of the blind way I’d allowed myself to fall for a charming con artist . . . a spoken-for con artist.
I polished off the rest of the pancakes with a satisfied sigh and tapped my fingers on the table as Em also pulled her long hair into a complicated-looking braid at the back of her head. With her tall, leather boots and her perfectly polished look, I thought she looked more like she should be getting ready to ride a thoroughbred in an Olympic jumping competition rather than hitting the trail in the backcountry. She definitely didn’t look like any kind of cowgirl I had ever seen, not even the glossy, manufactured kind that sang sad country songs and sold make-up on TV. Emrys was always going to be her own brand of perfection. I think I gravitated toward her because I was always trying to make the right choices, do the right things to avoid screwing up and getting hurt. I was careful in everything I did and letting someone in with so few flaws seemed like an easy enough decision to make. I was fortunate her goodness ran all the way through the very core of who she was.
When she was ready to go, we hoisted our weekend bags, which were packed with only the essentials outlined for us, onto our shoulders and made our way across the property to the long, rustic-looking stables. It was a good ten-minute walk, and by the time we arrived, the rest of the group was already there standing inside of a massive corral, petting and talking to a rainbow variety of different horses. Lane and Cy were wandering between the people and the already suited-up animals, muttering softly to both. The seemingly docile steeds tolerated being fawned over and appraised by a bunch of people who were duly impressed by their size and stature. All the horses were gorgeous and obviously well cared for. The smells and sounds immediately took me back to a time where I was slightly more willing to be brave and adventurous.
Lane made his way over to us and took each of our bags in a hand. I felt my lips twitch because today he had on a cowboy hat and his boots looked like they had spent years locked in a pair of stirrups. There it was; he was finally the embodiment of the cowboy I had been expecting all along. And as superficial as it might have been, the fact he looked so thoroughly the part put some of my anxiety about getting back on a horse and riding into the unknown to rest.
Cy was dressed much like he had been yesterday, faded jeans, and boots that looked like they belonged on a motorcycle, not a horse. He had on another black T-shirt, but today it was hidden underneath a heavy flannel shirt that was buttoned halfway up his chest. His face was covered in a sprinkle of salt and pepper stubble that made me wonder if I was totally off in thinking he was only in his early thirties. He didn’t look like he was old enough to have so much silver in his facial hair, not that it detracted from his appeal or blatant masculinity, in any way. In fact, if it was possible, the scruff made him look even more rugged and roughly handsome. I wanted to laugh when I noticed he had product in his hair, even though daybreak was still pink in the sky. I still didn’t think one single thing about him appeared cowboy-like. He looked good, there was no question about it, but he didn’t look like a man who knew his way around a horse or around a treacherous backcountry trail. There was simply something too urbane about him for me to ever buy Cyrus Warner as a born and bred country boy.
“I’ll get this stuff packed for you. Em, we picked the buckskin quarter horse for you.” His lips twitched and his eyebrows danced upward under the hat when he looked at me and pointed to the only other horse that didn’t have a human clamoring all over it. “Cy picked out the speckled Appaloosa for you, Leo.”
The horse was stunning, all black with white and silver spots across his face and hind quarters. His mane was shiny midnight except by his ears, where it was sterling silver. I didn’t miss the fact that the beautiful beast was oddly reminiscent of the man who decided we were a perfect match for the week. I walked over to the animal and extended my fingers so the soft end of his nose could brush against them. I gave Lane a questioning look and tilted my head to the side as the big animal nuzzled into me.
“Do I want to know why your brother picked this horse out for me? I mean, he doesn’t even go on these trips usually, so how would he know which horse is right for a particular rider?” I was being argumentative for no reason and I knew it. It wasn’t like I had a choice in the matter.
Lane pushed the brim of his hat back with the tip of his finger and gave me a pointed look. “You think you know, but you don’t. Cy knows more about the horses and livestock on this property than either Sutton or I could ever dream of.” He inclined his head toward the horse that was nudging my hand impatiently with his nose looking for a treat I didn’t have. “In fact, Boss here was one of the first horses Cy bought and trained specifically for trail riding. They go way back. When we were growing up, it was my dad who had Cy on the range and tending to the ranch day in and day out. My brother sits in an office now but that’s because someone has to and neither me nor Sutton have the patience for it. I hate paperwork and Sutton has other things occupying his time. No one ever wanted to be in charge when Dad got sick, but Cy stepped up because that’s what he’s always done. If he thinks you and Boss here are a good fit for the trail, then you guys will be a match made in heaven. Do you ever trust anyone or take anything at face value, Leo?”
His question stung and I realized Cy wasn’t the only Warner who was alarmingly perceptive. I shrugged and smiled as the horse puffed out a breath of air against my hand. “I took someone at face value once. It didn’t work out so well for me.” I was never going to let it be that easy to get to my secret, soft center again.