Wild Mustang Man by Carol Grace Read Free Book Online Page B

right around the leather strip.
    She prayed he wouldn’t notice how damp her palms were and how her fingers trembled. Or if he did, that he’d chalk it up to learning a new skill. That’s all it was. Just nerves. Just wanting to succeed. Just wanting to lean back against him, feel his arms tighten around her, close her eyes and forget all about the slingshot. But she couldn’t They were waiting, both of them. Waiting to see her do it
    “Pebble,” Josh said.
    Max handed him a pebble.
    “Insert pebble,” he ordered, his warm breath ruffling her hair.
    “How am I supposed to do that?” she asked. “I’d need a third hand.”
    “Here,” he said and inserted the pebble in the leather strip for her. “Now aim. Get the target centered between the two prongs of the slingshot. Got it?”
    “Yes,” she said. At that point she would have agreed to anything.
    “Shoot.”
    She shot. The pebble hit the can. She exhaled softly. “Beginner’s luck,” she said.
    Max laughed with joy and jumped into the air. Then he ran to gather new pebbles.
    “Was that so hard?” Josh asked. His lips brushed her ear. The pebble had been lanced, had hit its target, but his arms were still wrapped around her.
    “Nothing to it,” she said under her breath, wishing she could stay there forever, or at least a few more minutes. She’d never felt so safe, so secure and yet so scared in her life. Scared that she might get to like this—being held, being a part of a family; shooting at targets in the evening as dusk fell over the fields and the sun set behind the hill, the same hill where she’d first seen him outlined against the clear blue Nevada sky; then going back into the house for coffee as the lights went on inside and night settled around the house.
    But she wasn’t going back in the house. Not for coffee, not for anything. She hadn’t been invited. She didn’t belong there. They were a family, and she was not part of it. She didn’t want to be. She was happy being on her own. Lucky for her, because she had terrible judgment when it came to men. Witness her close encounter with Scott. Kate told her he was no good. Others told her the same thing. Here in Nevada she was on her own. Nobody to tell her who was Mr. Right For Her and who wasn’t. She had to rely on her own judgment. Which was faulty.
    She knew she should break out of his arms and leave, but she didn’t. Not when she fit there so well. Aware of every muscle and bone in his body. Aware of every breath he took. Aware of his chin resting on top of her head. Watching the sun set in the west. Wanting it to go on forever. But it didn’t. Max came running up with a handful of pebbles and she gave a guilty start.
    The boy shot them both a curious look. “You can let go of her now, Dad. She hit the target. Didja see it?”
    “I saw it,” he said, dropping his arms slowly so that his hands brushed her supersensitive skin.
    She stumbled forward, as if she’d just been released from a hospital bed. She took a few steps toward the driveway. Toward her car and toward safety.
    “I think I’ll quit while I’m ahead,” she explained to both of them with a weak smile. Max looked disappointed, Josh looked relieved, and she had no idea how she looked. She knew how she felt, though. Shaky, confused and embarrassed. First she’d stayed for dinner, to Josh’s dismay, then she’d got lost in his embrace, which wasn’t an embrace at all.
    Bridget drove back to town. If her pictures were half as good as she thought they were, the Wild Mustang people would be ecstatic and start throwing money at the project. She and Kate could put furniture in their office, order stationery, light fixtures. And all thanks to Josh Gentry.
    That night she loaded all her pictures to her laptop and thanks to the wifi connection she sent the file to Kate with instructions to let her know the instant she got any feedback. The next morning she went to the Laundromat instead of sitting there waiting to