Ride With Me (A Quaking Heart Novel - Book One)

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  Rose Marie tried to relax for the long trip, but the buckboard was so small they practically had to sit on top of one another. The now familiar uneasiness that happened whenever Johnnie was near stirred her insides anew. This taciturn cowboy's aloofness was ramping up her tension, making her stiff muscles tweak uncomfortably with the bouncy ride.

  They came to a steep portion of road, so Johnnie cracked the leather straps to speed the horse. He widened his legs—for stability she guessed—and now she felt every brush of his thigh against hers as they rocked together over bumps and crannies. The constant contact kept her mind on his nearness rather than on a strategy to outwit him. Her balance was quickly listing.

  I desperately need a breather. "Can we stop? I need to take care of something."

  "Yeah, it's about time for a breather," he said.

  Funny how he used the same word she was thinking. She wondered if he needed a break from her for the same reasons she needed one from him, though he seemed nauseatingly unflustered. Aggravating man!

  Johnnie tugged on the reins, Bonnie pulled up, and the buckboard came to a shuddering stop. "Mary, I'm ready for those great muffins of yours," he said, glancing at her with a lopsided smile. "There's a little meadow over there." He nodded his head in that direction.

  Rose Marie joined Mary's inspection of the perfect little meadow dotted with purple, yellow, and white wildflowers. It seemed out of place up here in the luxurious forest of thick pines. Rose Marie breathed in through her nose and was blessed with a cool pine scent.

  "Stretch your legs, ladies. Take care of your needs. We'll have a quick snack, then be on our way."

  He tied off the reins and crossed in front of Mary to jump down. He extended his hands to help her down. He kept a hold on her elbow until she got her footing. Tugging a blanket and small basket out from behind the seat, he handed them to her, then gave a careful watch as she ambled off.

  Rose Marie scooted across the seat to Mary's side. Ever so slowly, Johnnie twisted back to the buckboard and looked up into Rose Marie's face. A sphere of black lashes sheltered his eyes from the brightness of the sun, though they flashed vivid sapphire with every blink, making her heart tumble.

  Johnnie didn't extend his arms to her as he had to Mary. He rested one hand on the seat back and the other on the side panel. She studied the big hand near her shoulder. It was strong and capable looking, dusted with dark hair and protruding veins. Too affected by that hand, she glanced back to his eyes and got captured there next.

  Time passed. Was it full minutes? He continued to stare back at her. The lack of expression on his face made her wonder what she was showing on hers.

  What did he expect her to do, beg for help down?

  Well, she wouldn't do it.

  Neither moved or spoke. Finally, out of desperation for a regular breath, she dragged her eyes away from his and up to his forehead where a few thin lines creased his tan. Her gaze dropped to his eyebrows—thick, black, straight low slashes that bordered his jeweled eyes. She was staring and couldn't seem to stop. Every one of his features was extraordinary, and the complete package beautiful.

  At last, he stretched his arms up to her waist. A smile of satisfaction started to slip across her lips, until she realized he still wasn't going to touch her. He just held his arms there, waiting for her to make the next move. A frustrated heat rose to her face.

  He wore a stubborn look. She knew she'd have to be the one to acquiesce, or bat him aside and stumble down on her own. Blast him! Why'd she have to go and wear this dumb dress anyhow?

  An unbidden grunt at having lost this battle of wills emerged from the back of her throat. Grumbling an incoherent word, she slapped her hands on the top of his shoulders. He didn't even flinch, while her own palms stung at having landed on rock-hard muscle.

  His hands encircled her waist . . . completely. He lifted while she dug her fingertips in, feeling the play of muscles as he lowered her to the ground. Once her feet hit she wriggled out of his hold and ran off into a copse of trees. Ducking around a pine tree, she stopped to lean her back into the trunk and stood there, panting. She held trembling fingers to her lips and breathed through them until the hammering of her heart slowed along with her breathing. How could one man be so irksome and so breathtaking all at the same time?

  She took her time doing her business, making sure she'd regained control of herself before emerging from the bushes. Mary sat on a blanket surrounded by food, but it was the vision of male beauty stretched out on his side, solid legs seeming to go on forever, that drew Rose Marie toward them. She should run the other way, back to the buckboard to wait, away from Johnnie and his irascible self. But his lure was too great.

  His hat rested low on his brow, and he had his head thrown back in laughter at something Mary had said. It was all so vexingly attractive she wanted to scream. What was it about this man that shook her so, and yet drew her to him? Was it his lack of interest of her? It befuddled her, his indifference, when most men swarmed her like giddy teenage boys around a hamburger stand's only car hop.

  And the kicker was, she'd seen how he looked at unremarkable Jessica and knew he was attracted to Jessica and not to her.

  Why does that matter so much?

  It doesn't matter, she decided. If she wanted a man, she had her pick. She certainly didn't need the likes of him. Yet, she couldn't deny he intrigued her. Some mysterious secret shrouded him. Something she couldn't quite figure out.

  Brushing her palms down her skirt, she approached Johnnie and her grandma. Johnnie pushed his hat up with a thumb to look at her. A stream of sunlight flashed across those eyes of his, and her dratted legs went to rubber. She stumbled.

  "Whoa." Johnnie tore to his knees, thrusting an arm out to steady her. "Easy now."

  To her relief, she righted herself before he had to catch her.

  Almost instantly, his attention shifted past her to the meadow beyond, a confused frown pulling at his brows.

  "What's wrong?" Mary asked.

  "I don't know. That's the fourth deer I've seen in the short time we've been here. Odd behavior. Normally one wouldn't come this close to humans, let alone four."

  "Maybe they're a little family heading somewhere together," Rose Marie said, waving off the pointless curiosity about them.

  Johnnie's gaze shifted from the deer to her. First he raised his brows, then if she'd thought his laughter rang out across that broad meadow before, it was nothing compared to what it did now—the quiet of the mountain serenity was quite literally obliterated. "A little family heading somewhere?" he said around another bout of raucous laughter he didn't even try to hold back. "Like on vacation, you mean?"

  Mary covered her mouth with a hand, looking like she wanted to giggle, but contrite all at the same time.

  Rose Marie looked from Johnnie to Mary and back again, letting her own off-handed comment sink in. She'd said it without thinking, but was stunned at how Johnnie was so willing to embarrass her.

  Feeling ridiculous as the blood flooded her cheeks, she gathered up her skirts and fled toward the buckboard. This day had been dreadful, and now this! Escape. She wished she could run all the way back down the mountain and hide.

  Caught up in her thoughts about Johnnie, Rose Marie dashed around a lodgepole and cut her path a little too close to the tree. A small root above the ground caught the pointy toe of the boots she wasn't used to and cast her so fast to her knees she didn't even have time to screech. Thankful for that, but wondering why her landing hadn't hurt, she looked down at the spread of pine needles and mud she'd landed in. Well, at least it looked like mud.

  She pulled at the grimy skirts trapped under her knees. "Stupid dress. What was I thinking?" she muttered as she yanked at the material again. But she knew what she'd been thinking. What she always thought when she had to be in this close a vicinity to a man—for her attire to somehow unbalance him and keep him that way.

  Placing her hands at the sides of the mucky mess,
she lifted her bottom in the air, then released one hand from the grunge to pull at the hem of her skirt. The skirt was stuck on something, probably her own foot, so she gave it a hardy yank. When she did, her other hand slipped forward and plunged her face-first into the sticky substance. "Oh my gosh . . . Ugh!" Why is this stuff so sticky?

  With a gasp of alarm at what the brown, gooey substance might be, she rolled to the side to sit up, further painting herself with it. Raising a hand to her nose, she sniffed. No. No bad smells. Whew. She studied it, pressed her thumb and forefinger together. Whatever it was, it was mixed with dirt and pine needles and who knew what. And now she was coated in it.

  Could this day get any worse?