“When you have a daughter, she’s never going to get a date, is she?”

“Probably not.” Resting a loose fist on the porch railing, Easton added fondly, “Grandma says she’s going to tell everyone about the documentary and have the whole nursing home watch it when it comes out.” Warm brown eyes found hers. “Be kind to her when you edit it. This means more than you realize.”

“I will.”

Overly aware of his arm near hers, the gum he was chewing, and the light tapping of his thumb against the wood rail, River forced her focus on the short red gelding who’d joined his pasture mate, curious to see what was happening.

“He’s gorgeous.” Stroking his mane, River watched the two geldings eyeing each other.

“That’s Sonny. He’s pretty, but he’s a troublemaker.” Easton reached over to scratch beneath the gray’s chin, like River had. “Chance is more my style. He’s friendly and smart and would rather hang out with you than get one over on you.”

Nodding toward the palomino mare in the corner, River asked, “How about her?”

“Old Skip?” Affection filled Easton’s voice. “She still runs these two boys ragged. But we’ve retired her. Unless my cousins come over and want to ride, she gets a free pass. She’s earned it. Dad took her all over these hills, then Ash all but rode the feet off her.” Easton glanced at her. “Do you ride?”

Once, River had spent every day on a horse. Now, the only horsepower in her life was the car she drove on LA highways. Ten years, and she still hadn’t gotten used to the loss of these animals in her life.

“I haven’t in a while,” River admitted. “But I used to live in a saddle.”

After a moment’s pause, Easton asked quietly, “Do you want to ride with me?”

There was something in the way he said it that sent a thrill of anticipation up her spine. When she was fifteen, she remembered one of the handsome young ranch hands riding up to her older sister, holding the reins of a second saddled horse jogging along with his own. That soft question of “Do you want to ride with me?” had left her beyond jealous of her sister.

Tall, gangly, and fiercely independent, River was the first one the boys picked to rope with them, to brand cattle with them, and to ride broncs with them. But no one—boy or man—had ever asked her to ride with him. Not the way Easton was asking her.

They weren’t even on the mountain yet, and River could already tell this was going to be a problem.

“Yeah.” Feeling abnormally shy, she nodded. “I’d like that.”

Easton pushed off the fence. “I’ll get them ready.”