Sunset At Keyhole Canyon: A Mustang Ridge Novella (A Penguin Special from Signet Eclipse) by Hayworth Jesse

Author:Hayworth, Jesse [Hayworth, Jesse]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2013-05-07T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

For Nina, the next few days passed in a dizzying whirl of the Three Rs, Mustang Ridge style—riding, roping and rustling—and the nights . . . ah, the nights. If there was a heaven on earth, it was in Wyoming with Ben Sullivan.

On Wednesday evening, they ate with the others and then sat around a campfire down by the lake while Foster strummed a guitar, and Ty and Stace recited something they called “cowboy poetry,” which turned out to be an art form all its own, as gorgeous as the terrain and as varied as the job.

Some of the poems came from old-time lore and some from the annual Cowboy Poetry Roundup in Laramie, while others were the wranglers’ own compositions. Several funny ditties about questionable baked beans, nutso bosses, and obstinate cows had Nina laughing until her sides hurt and she collapsed weakly against Ben. Then, later, a longer and more melancholy piece of Stace’s had her going misty-eyed over the wild land and its inhabitants.

After, when everything broke up for the night and Ben walked her back to her cabin, she sighed and leaned into him. “I feel . . . I don’t know. Different. Chilled out.”

“Isn’t that what vacations are for?” But his smile went crooked. “I know what you mean, though. It’s like we don’t have to prove everything right now. We’ve got time, you know? This isn’t going to be over on getaway day.”

She wasn’t sure which surprised her more—that he had known what she meant, or that he’d put it into words so neatly.

Then he moved in and kissed her, and she stopped being surprised, stopped thinking at all for a while, concentrating on the solid heat of his body pressing her against the door, the excitement of his lips on hers, his hands on hers, and the skim of her fingers over his shoulders and down his back. By the time the kiss ended, her head was spinning and her body throbbed with need, along with the crazy temptation to invite him in, keep things going, go further.

She pulled away. “Um. I think we should . . .”

“Yeah. Me, too.” He exhaled heavily, then cocked his head. “You were going to say we should slow down, right? Because if you weren’t—”

“I was. Good night.” Laughing, she nudged him back, gave him a quick peck on the lips, and then ducked into her cabin, light-headed and giddy, and whistling to herself. Home, home on the range, where the doctor and the decorator play . . .

Thursday was movie night, back-to-back showings of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and Blazing Saddles. Nina and Ben sat in the back and cuddled in the darkness, and when they said good night again on her porch, she couldn’t stop herself from holding on a moment too long, clutching just a bit too tight.

It seemed like he did the same thing, though, like she wasn’t the only one dreading Saturday.

Finally, on Friday, their last full day at the ranch, the wranglers announced that the dudes were ready for some cattle thieving.

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