The Long Road Home. Lynn PatrickЧитать онлайн книгу.
him call her by her high school nickname, Priscilla was struck nearly speechless. She’d hoped she would be prepared for this meeting, but she couldn’t keep from reacting to him. Yes, Sam was back in Sparrow Lake and still had the same effect on her. He’d been gorgeous as a youth and was equally gorgeous as a man, his handsome face tanned, his dark hair poking out from beneath his black Western hat to brush the collar of the work shirt that showed off some impressive muscles.
She tore her gaze away from him, muttering, “I’m not very athletic.”
“You’re on an easygoing horse, so you don’t have to worry.”
It wasn’t really the horse she was worried about. Heart pounding, she threw her right leg over the saddle and plopped into it.
“Not going to say a proper hello, Prissy?”
She frowned at him. “Sure I’m going to say hello. Why wouldn’t I?”
His grin widened. “Well?”
“Hello, Sam. Nice to see you after all these years! And my name is Priscilla, not Prissy.” She looked around wildly, saw the others lining up behind Logan, who was opening the corral gate. “Gotta go or I’ll get left behind.”
He grinned harder. “Right. Go.” He swatted her mare’s rump.
Gold Mine jerked forward and moved to the end of the line. Priscilla thump-thump-thumped in the saddle and hung on to the horn. Several riders ahead of her, Mia looked back, grinned and gave her a thumbs-up.
Just when Priscilla was regaining her breath, she realized she hadn’t left Sam behind, after all. He rode up next to her on a big dark bay so close she could see the small lines around his eyes. They gave his face a new maturity and added to his good looks, as did an air of world-weariness.
Weary or wary?
Priscilla wasn’t sure which.
“A little tip about getting on a horse,” he said, his familiar if more mature whiskey-smooth voice making her stomach curl. “Hold on to the reins in your left hand, then grab the horse’s mane instead of the saddle horn. That way you don’t pull the saddle over.”
Apparently the reason she’d had so much trouble getting up, Priscilla thought, as they followed Logan’s lead through a stand of trees. “Won’t that hurt the horse?”
“Nope, no pain involved. No nerve endings.”
“Oh.”
“I wouldn’t have expected you to know that,” he assured her.
“Same here. Last I remember, you rode a motorcycle out of town twelve years ago, not a horse.”
“Twelve years is a long time, Prissy, enough time for a man to learn all kinds of things.”
Prissy. Priscilla clenched her jaw. She’d thought she was done with that nickname. Obviously, Sam wasn’t going to let her forget it. But if she made a big deal of it, he undoubtedly would do the same just to tease her. Since they were entering a pretty, hilly area she’d never seen before, she decided to just relax and enjoy the ride as best as she could.
* * *
HAPPY TO SEE the only person he’d regretted leaving behind when he’d fled Sparrow Lake, Sam smiled as he watched Prissy thump-thump in the saddle as Logan picked up the pace of the ride. They settled into a slow jog along the trail that Sam had created through several pastures and alongside a big patch of woods. Compared to a mountainside, the rolling, sometimes timbered hills were gentle, yet Priscilla was trying real hard to keep her seat. But she made no complaint. Just like old times. She rode out whatever might be bothering her. A quiet do-gooder, she’d been nice to everyone, but he remembered the guys on the football team making fun of her because she wasn’t one of the “cool” girls. She’d never seemed to care about fancy clothes or new hairstyles, she hadn’t worn eye makeup under those big, thick glasses she’d worn back then. She might not have heard the comments behind her back, but Sam was certain she’d known. He remembered how she’d always held her head up high when she’d passed them in the school hallway. He’d always given her credit that she’d had the guts to be herself.
And he remembered the night that had changed the way he’d felt about Priscilla Ryan, too. He’d asked the bespectacled, mousy librarian’s daughter to the prom on a bet with some of the guys on the team. Not that he hadn’t liked her, but she’d been quiet and hard to get to know. Truth be told, he’d felt sorry that his friends had been ragging on about a girl who’d never done anything or said a mean word to anyone, and he’d taken the bet knowing that, if he didn’t ask her to the prom, no other boy would.
What a surprise he’d had when she’d opened the door on prom night. He still remembered feeling gutshot just looking at her, all gussied up and without her thick glasses. Her long, bright red hair released from her usual ponytail swirled around surprisingly pretty green eyes and brushed the delicate green fabric surrounding her slim, silky shoulders. What a bigger surprise she’d been on the dance floor. It was as if the music had freed her, had allowed her to blossom. She’d simply glowed with happiness. He remembered joking with her. And laughing. And smiling more than he ever had with anyone. He hadn’t been sorry he’d taken that bet, not one bit.
It had been the best night of his teenage life.
A sappy smile curving his lips when he glanced over at her, he asked, “So how has life been treating you, Prissy? Do you have a house filled with kids?” He hadn’t missed that she’d brought a couple of girls with her. “Or is it just the two?”
Her brow puckered. “Two?”
Sunlight squeaking through the trees dappled the area they rode with bits of brightness, making her red hair glow as if on fire. Mesmerized, he simply stared at her.
“What are you talking about?” she asked, jerking him out of the moment.
He indicated the mounted girls both ahead of them, the older one in the crazy boots practically pressing her horse against Logan’s. “Those two. Your daughters.”
Appearing thunderstruck, she snorted. “Those are my nieces! They just flew in from New York this morning, and I brought them out here because Mia is horse crazy.”
Hmm. The little one had the same red hair, the reason he’d drawn that conclusion. “But you do have kids, right?”
“Uh, no.”
“Why not?” Interest he couldn’t quite define shot through him. “Did that biological clock of yours get stuck or something?”
Now she gave him an intent look that made the flesh skitter down his spine when she said, “Doesn’t matter when I’m not married.”
“Not married,” he echoed softly. “Really?”
“Really.”
Hard to believe no man had ever snapped her up. He eyed her tan jeans and T-shirt. She might not be flashy on the outside, but, as he remembered so well, she had hidden depths.
“Why ever not?” he asked.
“Maybe I never met a man I could stand long enough to take on full time.” She arched an eyebrow as if that included him.
His turn to snort. “Didn’t remember you had such a way with words.”
She simply shrugged.
He wanted to ask if there was any man in her life other than her father, but he figured he’d better stop being so direct or he might offend her. Besides she might not want to talk to him at all. Still, he really wanted to know more about her.
“So what have you been doing all these years if not starting a family?”
“I went to college, studied American Literature, then got a job in the big city that had nothing to do with my degree.” She shrugged. “Pretty much like most everyone else I knew.”
Sam frowned.