Playing for Keeps (The Game #2)(57)
Author: Emma Hart

“Because she’ll go faster.”

“Great. You couldn’t have given me a run down on the way here?”

“Did you tell me about fishing before we got on the boat?” Her eyes sparkle, and I nod my head toward her.

“Touché, baby. Touché.”

She clicks her tongue, and Storm begins to move faster.

“I hope you’re not expecting me to go any faster.”

“I’m not,” she calls. “I didn’t actually expect you to get on Poppy!”

“Nice to know you have confidence in me,” I shout dryly as she rounds behind me. Poppy’s walking at a nice pace. I’m really not into taking her up into a trot. No way.

The ground is dusty as we leave the small paddock, and the sun beats down with a still hot temperature. “Where are we going?” I ask her.

“You’ll see.”

Chapter Twenty-Five – Megan

I slide down from Storm’s back and pat his neck lovingly, hooking his reins around a tree branch in the shade. I take my helmet off, shake out my hair, and look under the roots for the basket I asked June to place there earlier. Storm turns his attention to the water I’ve given him, and I lie the blanket out on the ground on the other side of the small tree. Excited, I sit down and wait for Aston to catch up.

Palm Canyon trail is one of my favorite to take – it always has been. Sitting here by the stream and letting Storm rest was a weekly pastime before I left for Berkeley. We’d do the other trails on our other rides, but our Saturdays were always reserved for this.

And now I remember why.

The green of the fauna is a stark contrast to the barren desert beyond, and the rocks that dot the stream are just big enough to sit on. It’s beautiful here. Peaceful in the winter when no one comes here.

“How do I get down?” Aston approaches.

I laugh at the sight of him. “Click your tongue three times, and she’ll stop, then get down the way you got up.”

“Not kicking her ass, right?”

“Exactly.”

He clicks his tongue and Poppy stops. His dismount is swift and it looks like he could have been riding his whole life.

“A picnic?” he smirks, hooking her reins over the branch the way I did and removing his hat.

“Surprised?” I smile as he drops onto the blanket next to me.

“Yep, but then you always surprise me.” He presses his lips to mine, and I cup the side of his face.

“You said you wanted to see Palm Springs. There’s not much in the other direction you can’t see in any other town, but this is my favorite place in the whole world.” I drop my hand and look around. “I’ve missed it here. I didn’t realize it until I was sitting here.”

“It’s pretty damn nice,” Aston says appreciating the view. “You really grew up here?”

“Pretty much. My mom has her horse at the stables, too. You didn’t see him, but Midnight is–”

“Black?”

“Yep, actually.” I glance at him. “She grew up here and taught me to ride. We spent every weekend out here until I was fourteen and she let me come alone. I didn’t miss a weekend until I started college.”

“Did you not think about riding in Berkeley?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think I have the time. Besides – I can’t expect my parents to pay for it as well as college. I could get a job, but then I definitely wouldn’t have time to ride. It’s a lose-lose situation.” I shrug.

Aston rummages in the basket. “At least you can still ride when you get home … Even if it is only a few times a year.”

“True.” I smile as he pulls out the strawberries. He grabs one from the dish and brings it close to my mouth. I hold it in place, and take a huge bite. Juice dribbles down my chin and he grins, flicking it away with his thumb.

“I hope you don’t think I’m feeding you,” he mutters, biting into his own strawberry.

“But you just did.” I pout, looking at the other strawberry in his hand. “And that’s a huge one!”

He looks at it, then at me and sighs. “Fine. Have the huge strawberry.” He holds it out to me, and I lean forward, biting into it slowly, my lips wrapping around it. His eyes flick down, focusing on my mouth, and I sit back.

My lips curve up as he puts a hand just behind my back, his face coming close to mine.

“You have a little …” he whispers in a rough voice, bringing his thumb to my face. I glance down at it, watching as he presses it against the corner of my mouth softly, wiping along the curve of my bottom lip. I part my lips, drawing in a slow breath, and close my eyes as he sweeps his hand into my hair.

His breath is hot across my lips, mingling with mine, and my heart pounds as he hovers there above me, millimeters from touching me. It’s a moment that seems to last forever, a moment filled with hope, anticipation, resolve, and love.

Hope for us. Anticipation for the future. Resolve to make it last. Love for everything we have and have yet to share together, and for everything we are.

And when he finally touches his lips to mine, it makes it all the sweeter.

~

The ride back to the stables is easy – mostly because Aston realizes he isn’t going to fall off if he goes into a trot. I let him drive back to my house and that seems to make up for forcing him to sit on a horse and stare at my ass in tight riding pants all day.

It kinda makes up for it, anyway.

Everyone is out when we arrive back, and I bet Mom dragged them all to the store. Tonight is her annual Thanksgiving eve party, which translates as lots of people, lots of wine, and lots of Nan eyeing up all the younger guys.

“You were a bit of an overachiever as a kid,” Aston says as we go upstairs.

“I was?”

“Yep. Swimming, horse-riding, gymnastics … Anything else?”

“Hmm. I danced for a bit. Well, six months. I gave it up. I was too heavy on my feet from gym, and I was a terrible ballerina.” I grin. “Gymnastics is a lot like dance, but apparently dance isn’t a lot like gymnastics.” I shrug, walking into my bathroom and running the shower.

I toss my clothes into the laundry basket and step under the steaming hot water, letting it run over me and soothe my aches from the day of riding. My legs are stiff and I know they’ll be even worse tomorrow, but it was so worth it.

It was even more worth it because Aston got to know some of me after showing me so much of him. His life is stuck in San Francisco, and while my life is in Berkeley, my heart is in Palm Springs.