Renegade Moon (CupidKey) by Karen E. Rigley, Ann M. House Read Free Book Online

walking heel. She’d worn jeans in anticipation, so she kept the boots on and carried her shoes in a bag. As she stepped back out onto the porch, she discovered a new sitter, Mr. Eric George Montoya.
    At the sight of her he rose, smiling, and strode over to her. “What’s in the bag?”
    “City shoes.” She displayed a foot. “See my new boots?”
    “Good. I’m proud of you.”
    She started to her car and he fell into step beside her.
    “Hey, Eric George,” a man called in greeting.
    “Howdy, Tom,” Eric responded, before turning back to Destiny. “Have you been down to the creek yet?”
    “No.” Reaching her car, she dropped the shoes inside.
    “Want to walk down there?”
    By this time, she was totally confused. The last she saw of him he’d kissed her passionately, then stormed away as if he hated her. Now he acted friendly and relaxed. Destiny fussed with her shoulder bag to give herself time to regain her composure. Not wanting to haul the bag along, she stowed it in the car and put her keys in her jeans pocket.
    Vehicles came and went in the dusty parking area but soon they crossed it and started down the road that led to the creek. Obviously, this portion of the creek held water, unlike many other stretches. As they neared the water, foliage increased until grass grew beneath slender cottonwood trees, and desert willows. When they reached the creek bank, Eric scooped up a palmful of water and patted it on Destiny’s T-shirt clad back. She gasped and he laughed.
    “Cold, isn’t it?”
    “Yes, indeed!”
    “Water’s high for summer. Got some rain upstream recently. It adds to the spring flow that feeds the creek.”
    About then a collection of vehicles and merry people on foot came along, shouting and laughing and slamming car doors, headed for the nearby corrals.
    “Tourists,” Eric said. Destiny glanced up at him. “They’re going on a trail ride,” he elaborated, touching her elbow to guide her away from the water’s edge. They found a spot beneath a shady tree and sat down.
    The cowboy guides arrived and shepherded the riders over toward the corral in preparation for their trail ride. “Las Nubes is courting the tourist trade,” Eric said. “It’s growing, but not as fast as some thought it might. It’ll be good for the area, and as long as I can retreat to the Bar-M, I don’t have a complaint.”
    “Why do some people call you Eric George?” Destiny asked, the question popping out of nowhere.
    “It’s my name.”
    “I mean, why not just Eric?”
    He shrugged. He’d developed shrugging to an art form. “I don’t know. That’s my birth name. Eric George. I just borrow the Montoya.”
    “Oh. Your Indian name is Eric George?”
    He cocked an eyebrow at her. “I’m Indian, and that’s my name, so I suppose that’s my Indian name.”
    “Well . . . I mean . . . I thought you might have a real Native American name like Flying Eagle or Running Deer . . .” She dared a peek at him, afraid of the way the conversation was going that he might be offended. Instead he seemed amused.
    “Nothing so exotic. Is Destiny Winston your full name?”
    “My middle name is Marie,” she offered.
    “Destiny Marie Winston,” he tested. “Destiny’s an unusual name.”
    “I guess our folks like unusual names. My older sister’s name is Dawn Christine. Marie is my mother’s name; Christine is my grandmother’s name. Mother plucked Dawn and Destiny out of some ethereal cloud.” She waved a hand as if to indicate that very cloud, floating somewhere just out of sight.
    “Ah, your mom’s a romantic. Pretty names. Yours and your sister’s both. George is, was, my father’s name. That’s why I’m Eric George.”
    “Montoya,” she added.
    “Borrowed,” he repeated.
    Without planning, without conscious movement, their arms came into contact as they sat beneath the slim tree. Destiny felt sweet liquid lava coursing through her veins. Though she thought she should move away, her arm