Vi took it, momentarily losing herself in his large clasp and the heat of his skin.
Such a firm grip.
It said he was decisive and sure of himself. Vi liked confidence in a man, as long as he wasn’t overly-confident and cocky and didn’t take her on newsworthy adventures.
“To properly thank you, let’s go for a ride.” Without warning, the cowboy swung Violet up behind him, let out one of those enthusiastic cowboy cries, and then sent the horse galloped across the beach.
Leaving Violet’s wine and her sister behind them.
*
Charles Cooper Pearson the Third was having a good day.
For the past few months, good days were rare.
He’d been disowned and cut off by his father. For the first time in his thirty-five years, Coop had no silver spoon to fall back on. He’d had to find work and a place to live. He’d had to find a place in the world and eke out a living without benefit of the Pearson name and resources. Most days, it sucked.
But today, he’d found a horse worthy of his talents in the Hamptons. Or at least, a horse that liked listening to him. Okay, Tally didn’t completely listen to him. In fact, the mare thought she was the boss in their relationship.
But once he’d found Tally after she’d escaped, the white mare had helped him with an introduction to a woman who was currently hanging onto him for dear life, shouting in his ear, and smelling like a patch of sweet wildflowers.
Best. Day. Ever.
Coop whooped.
He pressed one arm over the woman’s hands on his waist to help keep her safe behind him as he guided Tally with a combination of leg pressure and a twist of her mane.
“Have you lost your mind?” the woman behind him cried as they galloped in the surf, water splashing around them.
He laughed. This was the best he’d felt since he’d been banished from Houston two months ago.
His old man would say he was living too much in the moment without thinking about the responsibilities of the future.
You’d be wrong, old man.
Coopwasthinking about the future. About galloping down the beach until he reached a private dock. About riding up the bank and beneath the shady line of trees that led to Beeswax Farm. About how the pretty woman behind him would catch her breath and admire the scenery instead of focusing on her fear. About how her smile would return when both their feet were on solid ground, and she’d realize how unforgettable riding on a whim would be. About him leaning down and tasting those sweet red lips of hers.
Coop slowed the mare as he came even with the dock and made the turn toward the farm.
“Thank heavens,” the brunette breathed into his ear.
See? She was calming down already.
Tally trotted up the rise and beneath the trees. Coop cued her into a walk.
And unable to resist, he eased his torso around and made a play for those tantalizing lips.
“Not so fast.” His passenger unexpectedly slid off the back of the horse, landing without falling on her behind, but just barely.
Coop cued Tally in a circle, until he faced his wildflower woman. He took another good, hard look at her.
She had long brown hair that would never fall smooth as silk. It was thick and wavy, the kind of hair a man’s hand could get tangled in during a long kiss. Her eyes were big and brown and expressive. Before he’d swung her up behind him, those eyes had been game for an adventure. Now they flashed a warning. Her red lips were full and made for smiling, not that frown. She was dressed for one of those parties Hampton folk liked so much—pants a soft tan and a mess of wrinkles, a cream-colored blouse that hadn’t fared much better from being pressed against him. And her pretty face…
Brows lowered, she was itching for a fight, and he refused to let her fire the first salvo.
“I hope you weren’t expecting a refund,” Coop said instead of apologizing like his mama would have wanted.
“A refund? For what?”