He shifted her body so he could look into her eyes. “You can do this.”

In that moment Tanna understood why she trusted Fletch implicitly. His praise and kindness, all wrapped up in warm assurance gave her self-confidence a much-needed kick in the ass.

“Okay.” She disentangled from him and stood. Or tried to stand but her legs gave out.

“I’ve got you.” Once again he swooped her into his arms.

His long-legged strides ate up the distance to the barn door. After pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead, he set her on her feet.

She curled her hands around the metal fence.

“The horse we’re riding today is a twenty-year-old gelding. A Belgian Draft horse. He’s big enough to carry both of us. He’s gentle and the most even-tempered horse I’ve ever dealt with.”

“What if I can’t do it?”

“You can. You will. That’s why we’re here. No one else is around. It might take you a hundred tries to get on today, but I promise you will be on Gus before we leave.”

“Fletch—”

“I brought a bandana to use as a blindfold. Your choice if I put it on you or not. Obscuring vision works for some skittish animals.” Fletch ducked his head to look into her eyes. “You still with me here?”

She nodded.

“Huh-uh, sugar twang. Say the words back to me so I know you’re cognizant of what’s goin’ on. Are you with me?”

“Yes, I’m with you.”

“Good. Do you need a drink or to use the bathroom or anything before I get Gus?”

“No. I’ll just . . . hang on to the fence and”—freak the f**k out—“wait.”

Fletch took a blue bandana square out of his back pocket, shook it out and rolled it from end to end before draping it around her neck. “Don’t worry. It’s clean.” He kissed her. “Wear it or don’t. Your choice. Be right back.”

She let go of the fence and paced. Half tempted to “accidentally” twist her bad knee. Fletch wouldn’t make her get on if she had a flare-up of her previous injury.

He’d know you did it on purpose. Do you really want to see disappointment in his eyes?

No.

Tanna scoured the area wondering where she’d need to stand to get a leg up on the horse. Since they were riding bareback, there wouldn’t be a stirrup.

Each minute she waited wound her tighter. So when she heard the soft plop plop of horse hooves in the dirt, she nearly shot out of her skin.

Fletch led Gus out. The horse was huge with a beautiful shiny light brown coat and a pale, almost blond mane. He didn’t act too spirited as he clomped closer. Fletch alternately talked to Gus and watched her. He stopped just inside the gate and tied the lead rope around a fence post. “How you doin’?”

She shrugged. Sharing all her whacked-out physical reactions wouldn’t help either of them.

“You wanna come in here and get acquainted with Gus while I round up some oats?”

Tanna shook her head. “Over the fence is fine.”

Fletch’s face betrayed nothing. He turned and jogged back toward the barn.

Gus didn’t pay much attention to her. He didn’t dance around impatiently either.

She moved closer. “So, Gus, you’re in for a real treat. If I’m even able to climb on you. How am I supposed to hold on with no saddle horn? Will the doc want me riding in front of him? Or behind him?”

Gus just blinked slowly.

“So I’m telling you that the last horse I rode ended up dead. Was it my fault? I don’t know. Alls I know is I can’t shake the guilt. And the regret.”

Fletch approached Gus on the left side. Immediately Gus’s head disappeared inside the tin pail. But Fletch’s quizzical eyes were on her.

No way would she tell Fletch she’d confessed her transgressions to a horse.

Gus emptied the contents of the bucket in no time. He raised his head and Fletch was right there with the bridle, employing that gentle soothing tone he sometimes used with her. “Are you using the bandana?”

“No.”

“I won’t insult you and suggest I lead you around the corral before we ride.” He raised an eyebrow. “Unless that’s what you want?”

She shook her head.

“Good. I’ll get on first. You’ll ride behind me. Sound okay?”

The blood was rushing through her head so fast she scarcely heard him. His mouth moved but the words were unclear.

Fletch brought Gus close to the fence, climbed to the third rung and threw a leg over.

Just like that he was mounted up.

Easy, right?

And just like that, Tanna had to bend at the waist so she didn’t pass out or throw up or both. When the whooshing sensation lessened, she reached out and used the fencing bars to pull herself upright. Took her a few seconds to meet Fletch’s gaze.

The muscle in his jaw flexed. His lips were compressed into a thin line. She couldn’t read his eyes, shadowed beneath the brim of his hat. He hadn’t moved when she’d been discreetly dry-heaving and trying not to black out from fear.

He said, “Better?” after God knows how long she hung back from the fence.

Tanna swallowed twice before she could speak. “I guess.”

“Come on, sugar twang. I’m right here. It’s just you and me and this old horse.”

“If I get on and can’t stay on, you’ll stop?”

“Yep.”