The Maverick's Thanksgiving Baby

“Sutter’s a good guy who values the animals in his care and appreciates what I bring to his stables.”

“I read a series of books when I was a kid, about a girl who lived on a ranch and raised an orphaned foal,” she told him. “She fed it and trained it and entered riding competitions with it. After reading those books, I was desperate to experience the feeling of racing across open fields on horseback. I begged my parents to put me in a riding camp for the summer.

“They were always encouraging us to try new experiences, so they found a local camp and signed me up. I was so excited...until the first day. I’d never seen a horse up close until then,” she confided. “And when we got to the Northbrook Riding Academy and I saw real, live horses galloping in the distance, I was terrified.”

“What happened?” he asked, both curious about and grateful for this voluntary glimpse into her childhood.

“I begged to go home as passionately as I’d begged for the camp, but they made me stay. My parents are very big on commitment and follow-through. I was the one who wanted the experience, and they weren’t going to let me quit.”

“Did you ride?”

She shook her head. “The instructors tried to help me overcome my fear of the horses, but whenever I got too close, I would actually start to hyperventilate. Of course, the other kids made fun of me, which made the whole experience that much worse.

“Then I met Dolly. She was a white Shetland pony who was too old and lame to do much of anything, but she had the softest, kindest eyes.

“I spent most of the week with her. I brushed her and fed her and led her around her paddock. At the end of the week, I still hadn’t been on the back of a horse, but I’d fallen in love with Dolly. For the next six months, I went back to Northbrook once a week just to visit her.”

He didn’t need to ask what had happened after six months. Considering that the pony had been old and lame, he was certain he knew. Instead he said, “Did you ever get over your fear of horses?”

“I haven’t been around them much since that summer.”

He pushed away from the table. “Get your coat and boots on.”

“What? Why?”

“I want to introduce you to someone.”

She shook her head. “I got over my childhood fascination with horses—I’m good now.”

“Not if you’re still afraid,” he told her.

“I wouldn’t say afraid,” she denied. “More...cautious.”

He took her coat from the hook, brought it over to her.

“I need to clean up the kitchen.”

“The dishes will wait.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re pushy?”

He took her hand and guided it into the sleeve of her coat. “Not pushy—persuasive.”

“I’m not feeling persuaded,” she told him, but she put her other arm in her other sleeve. “My boots are still, um, upstairs.”

In his bedroom, where he’d taken them off her along with the rest of her clothing before he’d made love with her.

“I’ll get them,” he said.

When he came back down, she had her coat zipped up to her chin, a hat on her head and a scarf wrapped around her throat.

He held back a smile as he knelt at her feet and helped her on with the boots. To someone who had lived her whole life in Southern California, Montana in November—even the first of November—was undoubtedly cold, but he knew it would be a lot colder in December, January and February.

He hoped she would be there to experience it.

* * *

Maggie could tell that Jesse was amused by her efforts to bundle up against the climate. As she carefully tucked her hands into woolen mittens, he stuffed his feet into his boots and tugged on a jacket, not even bothering to button it.

She stepped outside and gasped as the cold slapped her in the face and stole the breath from her lungs.

“It was seventy-two degrees when I left Los Angeles,” she told him.

He slid an arm across her shoulders, holding her close to share body heat—of which he seemed to have an abundance. “The weather takes some getting used to for a lot of people.”

She couldn’t imagine ever getting used to the cold—or wanting to. Thankfully, the barn was only a short distance from his house, and she was grateful to duck into its warm shelter.

The facility was brightly lit and immaculate. The alleyway was interlocking brick and the wooden walls fairly gleamed. Jesse pulled the door closed and stood beside her, giving her a minute.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently.

She nodded, because she wanted it to be true, but she wasn’t entirely certain. She’d heard that the olfactory sense was one of the strongest for evoking memories, but she’d never experienced it herself until she stepped inside the barn and breathed in the scent of hay and horses. Suddenly her brain was flooded with memories of that long-ago summer camp, and with the memories came apprehension and anxiety.

“Just breathe,” he said.

It was only then that she realized she’d been holding her breath. She let it out now, and drew fresh air into her lungs. But that fresh air carried the same scent, and made her heart pound hard and fast inside her chest. “I feel stupid.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m scared,” she admitted.

“I won’t let anything bad happen to you,” he promised.

“It’s late,” she said. “I should get back before Lissa starts worrying.”

He took her hands, holding her in place. “Do you trust me?”

She nodded without hesitation.

“So let’s just stand right here for a minute until you relax.”

“I’m not going to relax in here.”

“You just need to focus on something other than the horses,” he said.

And then, before she could assure him there was absolutely nothing that would take her focus off the enormous beasts behind the flimsy wooden doors, his lips were on hers. And within half a second, her mind went completely, blissfully blank.

He released the hands he’d been holding to wrap his arms around her, pulling her closer. Then his hands slid up her back, and even through the thick layers of clothing, she could feel the warmth of his touch. Or maybe the heat was all in her veins, stoked by his caress. His tongue traced the curve of her bottom lip, teasing, coaxing. Her mouth parted on a sigh, not just allowing him to deepen the kiss, but demanding it, as her tongue danced in a slow and seductive rhythm with his.