Fake Fiance, Real Revenge: A Three River Ranch Novel (Entangled Bliss) Read online

  Mitch felt heat flood his face. Sabrina smirked, then swung one perfect leg over Monty’s back and settled into the saddle.

  “Here you go, Mitch,” Herb said, leading a mare with Appaloosa spots, already saddled and ready to go. Her white-and-brown tail twitched and she bobbed her head at him. “Her name’s Maya. You’ll like her. She’s out of your old mare Queenie. A sweet thing but she likes to run, so keep her in check unless you’re feeling adventurous. She and Monty are pals.”

  “Maya,” Mitch said, stroking her soft neck. He was touched that Herb remembered. She even had Queenie’s build, powerful and compact..

  “Lost her ma when she was born so she’s hand-raised and spoiled rotten.” Herb adjusted Mitch’s stirrups as if he were a schoolboy who hadn’t signed the safety waiver. Mitch felt assaulted with guilt over his horse, finally in foal, only to die in the process. Queenie would have been a fantastic mother.

  Herb’s cell phone chirped at his hip and he turned away to answer it. Mitch tested the stirrups, shifted back and forth. It felt good to be in the saddle again. Really good. It had definitely been too long.

  Herb came back, a worried expression on his face. “There’s a line of fence down in the southern valley. Barbed wire. Dangerous. Carson and I have to head out to repair it. Think you can handle this expedition on your own?”

  Mitch looked at the three women waiting expectantly for his answer. Suddenly he sat up tall in the saddle, exhilaration flooding his chest. Some things might have changed, but land stayed the same. Deer traveled the same trails year after year, as did horses and cattle. He knew exactly the ride to take them on. “Of course,” he said. “Go. We’ll see you later.”

  He reined Maya out of the corral, holding the gate open for the women. “Come on, ladies. Cowboy Mitch is taking you on a trail ride.”

  They set out following the line of brush that edged the corrals, crossing over the rough road used by the four-by-fours when horses weren’t practical. He knew exactly where he wanted to go. There was a secluded, picturesque valley that ran along the boundary of Three River Ranch and Hard Tack, their neighbor to the south. Elk and mule deer and even Carson’s elusive mustangs could sometimes be spotted among the trees. It was his favorite haunt, the trail he took when he needed to get away from the tension in his house, to imagine a world where possibilities were limitless and love brought freedom, not shackles.

  At least, that’s how it used to be. Mitch reined up. For a moment he sat, looking around him uncertainly, reminding himself that things might have changed more than he thought.

  Maybe he should save his favorite soul-saving solitary trek for another day. He didn’t want an audience for disappointment, should it turn out to be not what he remembered.

  He looked toward Twinridge, the spread owned by the Gamble family. Zach and his brother, Cale, had been friends of his and Carson’s both. He’d spent a bit of time with Zach last winter, heard the tragic news about Cale’s death. He couldn’t face talking to Zach about it all just yet. They’d head out there another day.

  He turned toward Hard Tack. It was closer and it had been ages since he’d ridden along this path. Gus Harding, the owner, had been a friend of his father, not his, so there shouldn’t be any emotional trip wires lying around.

  Mitch pulled the gate shut behind Paris and the palomino, making sure to secure the twine over the top. Then he nudged Maya into the lead, pushing past Sabrina. He couldn’t help but notice the curve of her ass as it rocked back and forth against the creaking leather. Her thighs gripped the barrel of the horse firmly, the line of her muscles smooth and graceful.

  He forced his eyes away. He’d have a tough time riding if he kept this up.

  “Where’re you taking us, Hoss?” Della called, a little breathlessly. “You might want to give me a timeline here. My bladder isn’t what it was.”

  Mitch winced. “We haven’t even left the yard, Della.”

  “Besides,” Paris said with a grin, “this is cowboy country. We’ll have to pee behind a bush. You can handle that, right, Della?”

  “Oh Lordy,” the woman muttered. “Sabrina, my Paris was a perfectly lovely young woman before we got here. Now she’s a bush-peeing hoyden. Can you explain it?”

  “The country air has that effect on some people,” she said, with sympathy.

  “You’re the one who wanted the authentic cowboy experience, might I remind you,” Mitch said. He gently clucked at Maya and she immediately picked up the pace. “Now, too much talking. Let’s ride.”

  He, Sabrina, and Paris immediately leaned forward as their mounts broke into an easy gallop. Samson’s long stride let him stay trotting. Mitch could hear Della bumping and complaining behind them. But beneath it, he could tell she was excited to be out doing something as unusual and challenging as this.

  A sense of awakening washed over him. He’d forgotten what it felt like to be attuned to an animal like this, to breathe air that hadn’t been inside someone else’s lungs or gone through an HVAC system. Above them, a pair of crows wheeled up and away, cawing loudly at something. He could hear the whap-whap of their wings.

  He pulled Maya up, understanding Herb’s words as he did so. The little mare did like to run. But it wouldn’t do to have Della cramp up on them.

  “What’s that?” Paris asked. “Does anyone still live there?”

  Mitch looked in the direction the girl was facing. They should be able to see Hard Tack from here. But this looked nothing like what he remembered of their neighbor.

  He angled Maya around a stand of trees and tipped his hat to better shield his eyes from the sun.

  “Used to,” he said, squinting. “Maybe they’ve moved.”

  “There’s cattle down in that valley.” Paris pointed. “There must be people around somewhere. But the place looks pretty decrepit.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Della said, adjusting her bulk on Samson’s back. She was breathing pretty hard. He’d have to watch her. It would be just like Della to kill herself trying to make a point. Even if no one knew exactly what the point was.

  “How are you doing, ladies?” Sabrina asked. “Are you enjoying your ride so far? Want me to check your saddles? Honey, what do you think? Are Della’s stirrups a little long, maybe?”

  Mitch felt a stab of shame. Sabrina was acting as a far better host than he was. She was acting as a far better fiancée than he was, too.

  He sighed, hopping off Maya and giving his reins to Sabrina. “I’ll check them. Good idea. Honey.”

  Samson nudged his shoulder, nibbling at his pocket. Della’s legs splayed out almost horizontally over the width of her mount. Mitch hoped she had good knees. He got her to stand up and down, made a minor adjustment, then had her test it again.

  “Better,” Della pronounced. “Which is more than I can say for you, Mr. Ice Man. What’s the matter with you? I don’t think I’ve seen a single kiss for your future wife over there. You sound like you’re constipated all the way up to your throat when you say her name. And I still haven’t seen that ring!”

  Mitch froze. He’d totally forgotten. His fingers fumbled on the leather laces decorating the side of Samson’s saddle.

  “She, uh, didn’t want to wear it while riding.”

  “Maybe you’re just shy,” Della went on, as if oblivious to his reaction to her words. “Which, if that’s the case, I’m not the judge of menfolk I always considered myself to be. Maybe you’re worried about your breath. Here. Have a mint.”

  She pulled a battered Altoids case from her pocket. Samson’s ears pricked up at the rattling sound.

  “Give one to Samson, while you’re at it. Now, crunch down on that and then go give your gal a kiss, will ya? The suspense is killing me.”

  Mitch wondered with a wry smile how far Samson would have to run before Della fell off and broke her neck. He looked at the sharp tip of his boot, then sighed. Even to murder Della, he wasn’t willing to hurt an innocent horse.

  Samson’s whisker
y dark lips picked up the treat, barely touching Mitch’s palms.

  “Everything okay?” Sabrina asked.

  “You don’t need to check mine,” Paris called, from where she was practicing turns with the palomino, who seemed to have bonded instantly with the girl.

  “Yeah,” Mitch muttered, aware of Della’s gaze on his back. He walked over to Sabrina, took Maya’s reins from her hands, and looked her in the eye.

  “Come here,” he whispered.

  Her eyes widened. “What?” Then she leaned forward.

  “Closer.”

  As she leaned down, the opening to her shirt gaped slightly, just enough for him to see the swell of soft flesh and the lace-edged fabric encasing it. He reached up his hand and tucked it against the back of her neck, beneath that luscious braid, and pulled her face to his. When their lips met, he heard her quick intake of air, and the gasp sent a bolt of heat through him. He’d heard her gasp before, the quick sharp breaths they’d shared when their bodies came together in the dark.

  Now he pressed his lips against hers. They were as he remembered, smooth, slightly moist, pliable. Warm. Sabrina braced herself against his shoulder and increased the pressure. He felt her tongue touch his lower lip and felt her tasting the sweetness of the mint.

  “Mmm,” she murmured, and his knees nearly buckled. He felt her smile. “That was yummy—honey.”

  He pulled away, let go of her neck. His hand felt empty, his lips bereft.

  “Whooo-hoo!” Della yelled from behind them. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

  Maybe there was a way to murder her without harming Samson in the process.

  Chapter Six

  What was that?

  She watched Mitch mount Maya again, rising smoothly into the saddle, as if his last ride had been yesterday and not months or years ago.

  She put a hand to her mouth, then pulled it back, hoping no one had noticed. This was not the way it was supposed to go! What was the matter with her? Mitch’s kisses had always had a particularly potent effect on her. But that was then. Everything was different now. This was her chance for revenge and she was letting herself get all hot and bothered. Did they just happen to fit together perfectly? Was there some sort of cosmic event? A hormonal reaction? Did they catalyze something in each other, making them more powerful as a duo than either one was singly?

  Was she insane…or simply on the road to losing her mind?

  This was not real, she reminded herself. Mitch was putting on a good show for Della, who apparently needed convincing. It was a show that would net Mitch a sweet, sweet reward, which he would pass on to her as well.

  But was all that tenderness, that sweetness, that authenticity really necessary?

  She needed to clear her head after that mind-blowing kiss.

  “You guys go on ahead. Monty’s got a favorite spot he likes to run,” she called back. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Mitch could stay with his guests. She tightened her knees over Monty’s barrel chest and took off. The horse’s long legs ate up the landscape, sent the wind streaming through her hair, unlocking her loose braid. She leaned over her mount’s neck, reveling in the speed, the exertion, urging him on with her thighs, desperate to outrun the sensations Mitch’s kiss had stirred in her. It had been fine earlier, when they’d kissed at her house, because she was in charge. But she definitely was not controlling the show right now. This was Mitch’s territory, all the way.

  Finally, they fell back to a trot, then a walk. She and the horse were both breathing hard.

  “Good boy, Monty!” she said as he snorted and tossed his head. “You’ll get a treat for this, don’t worry.”

  This was just what she needed. She’d be fine by the time she cooled off, back in control, ready to ramp things up with her plan for Mitch.

  Only, when Sabrina pushed a stray lock of hair away from her face, she felt tears.

  “I’m not crying!” she told Monty. The horse turned his head slightly.

  “I’m really not!” But she was. She hadn’t been prepared for such a visceral response to being around Mitch again. She’d expected to enjoy tormenting him, to look forward to watching him suffer, to feel glee and triumph when he realized she’d been playing him.

  That was the problem, right there. It didn’t feel like play-acting. She hadn’t even considered the possibility that their little charade might feel so…real.

  “Knock it off, Sabrina!” she told herself.

  Monty jumped and twitched his ears in annoyance.

  “Sorry, sweetie.” She reached down and patted him again, then turned him in the direction of home. It wasn’t the horse’s fault she was having a meltdown, after all.

  By the time she’d caught up to the group, her composure was secure again and Monty was cool and dry, looking for his oats. He was a strong horse and needed the exercise, otherwise she might have felt guilty. But he was tossing his head and prancing, proud of himself. Probably showing off for Maya, typical male.

  “That was quite a ride,” Della said.

  “Monty and I were overdue,” she answered, avoiding Mitch’s eyes. “We had a good workout, that’s all.”

  But Mitch reined Maya next to Monty, leaving a bit of distance between them and Della and Paris. Frowning, he reached out a hand and wiped her cheek. “You sure you’re okay?” he said in an undertone. “Those look like tears.”

  She pulled back and rubbed her cheek with the sleeve of her jacket. “From the wind, that’s all.”

  Her face was dry. How could he tell? But the touch of his finger against her skin started the agitation simmering again. She’d just gotten it doused, damn him. Time to get the focus back where it belonged, which was definitely not on their fake engagement. That was just a means to an end. The whole point was getting Della to hire Mitch for her next project.

  And breaking Mitch’s heart, of course.

  Mitch gave Sabrina a searching look, then turned Maya toward a shady meadow. He waved at the other women.

  “Who needs a break?” He swung out of the saddle and dropped the reins so the horse could drink from the shallow creek that ran beneath the low bushes.

  “Shouldn’t we be getting back?” Sabrina glanced at her watch-less wrist, then squinted up at the sky. “I think it’s late. It feels late.”

  “What’s the rush, Bree?” But he didn’t look at her. “This is all part of the deal. Too late to back out now.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” she hissed. “Who’s hungry?” she called as the others circled around to join them.

  Sabrina felt behind her for the package of snacks Bliss had tied onto her saddle. They’d been out for about an hour, long enough to work up an appetite, and suddenly she was famished.

  Mitch tossed an armful of dry branches on a sandy patch beside the stream.

  “I think Bliss put s’mores stuff in your bag.” It made sense. It was part of the experience, an impromptu fire on the trail.

  “You don’t think it’s too dry for an open fire?”

  “Nah.” He shifted his hat. “The creek’s right there anyway. Is that beef jerky?”

  “Yup.” Sabrina tossed him a piece. “It’s good. Hope you’ve got strong teeth.”

  Mitch laughed. “Hope Della does.”

  “A little help over here?” Della called, groaning as she leaned over the saddle horn. “I need to find a bush.”

  “Della, jeez,” Paris muttered. The girl landed easily on the soft ground beside her mount. “Come here, Samson, sweetie. Della needs to pee.”

  She led the big horse to a stump and helped Della ease out of the saddle. It was painful to watch.

  “You all keep your eyes averted now,” she called, hobbling off behind a leafy screen. “Oh, my word, this cannot be healthy for a woman my age.”

  Sabrina met Paris’s eyes and at the same instant, they both burst into laughter.

  “I heard that,” came Della’s voice. Grunting sounds followed, plus rustling, muttered curse
s and the pull of a zipper. “Um, Sabrina? You’re a nurse, right?”

  Uh-oh. Nothing good ever followed that question.

  “What’s up, Della?”

  Mitch caught her eye. “Oh for God’s sake, Bree.” He kept his voice low. “She’s a drama queen. You don’t have to do this.”

  “Sabrina? Honey? I think you should see this.”

  Sabrina got off Monty and handed the reins to Mitch. “Don’t feel bad on my account, sweetheart.”

  He frowned at the endearment. “This is just way more than you bargained for, and I’m sorry about that.”

  “About Della? Are you kidding? She’s a hoot. Besides, when it comes to female anatomy, I’ve pretty much seen it all.”

  He looked at her from beneath his slightly-too-long hair. The expression in his eyes changed, grew softer, warmer. Whatever tension he’d been carrying slipped away momentarily. He leaned toward her, the warmth of his breath tickling the fine hairs on her cheek.

  “Well, it’s been a while for me. Maybe you’ll have to give me a refresher course,” he said, his voice low and sultry. “Later. When we get back.”

  “Hmm.” There were words. Somewhere. She’d say them if she could. But they were out of reach. His lips were too near her skin; they chased everything rational out of her head, leaving a blank space where words might have been.

  “Uh, um…” She leaned into him, desperate for him to close that gap with his mouth, bring back the words, give her something to say, reconnect her with thoughts instead of this wordless, nameless, yawning desire.

  “Sabrina?” Paris peered over Monty’s back. She looked between the two of them and Sabrina felt her face flame.

  Mitch stumbled backward, pulling his hat down over his face. “Sorry, Paris, I was just getting her horse.”

  “Th-thanks, honey,” Sabrina stuttered. She stepped around the horse, almost tripping over her boots. “I’m coming, Della.”

  Damn the man! She needed another ride to clear her head, already. Monty would never survive this. She’d have to take up kickboxing or something.