Twice Kissed - Lisa Jackson [12]
Heart in her throat, relief and adrenaline flowing through her blood, Maggie scrambled off her horse and ran the short distance over the uneven ground on legs that threatened to give way. “Oh, my God, Becca what happened? Are you hurt?” At Becca’s side, she fell to her knees, thankful that her baby was alive.
“Damned Jasper threw me.” Becca’s eyes were dark. Angry. Her eyebrows pulled into a single furious line. But beneath the fury there was a hint of terror, and the tracks of tears that ran down her cheeks belied her true emotions. Her teeth chattered and she shivered. “He spooked for no reason. No damned reason at all.”
“Are you all right?” Maggie asked, seeing the scrapes and smudges on Becca’s cheeks and elbows. Thane, still holding the flashlight so that its beam illuminated the area surrounding Becca, edged his horse closer.
“Yeah…Nah…it’s…it’s my ankle.”
“Let me see.” Gently Maggie removed Becca’s boot and her daughter, after giving out one squeal of pain, bit her lip. A knot swelled above Becca’s right foot.
“I don’t know what happened to Jasper,” Becca grumbled ungraciously. “I hope he’s lost for good, and the coyotes eat him.”
“Too bad,” Maggie said with a half smile. “He already made it back.”
“Figures,” Becca sniffed, angry at the horse, her mother, and the world in general. “If I were you, I’d sell him for dog food.”
“I’ll consider it,” Maggie agreed, though she had no intention of doing anything of the kind. She just wasn’t in the mood for another argument, and Becca seemed more angry than hurt. Thank God.
“Who’s he?” Becca asked, holding her arm over her eyes, shading her brow as she wrinkled her nose and stared up at Thane, who was dismounting and reaching into the saddlebag.
“He’s—” How could she explain? And why? “He’s a friend,” she said, her tongue tripping on the lie. She glanced over her shoulder at the source of her daughter’s confusion, and for a split second her throat caught at the sight of him. A tall man holding the reins of his horse, he cut an imposing figure. Wide shoulders pulled at the seams of his jacket, and yet his hips and waist were lean enough that his worn jeans hung low on his hips. He wore his sensuality as if he didn’t know it existed.
Not that she cared. Not anymore. “Becca, this is Thane Walker.”
“Oh.” Her gaze thinned on him. “Thane? Weren’t you—?”
“Your aunt’s husband,” he cut in. “A long time ago. Nice meeting you.” He handed Maggie a blanket.
“Yeah, right. Me too,” she said, but there wasn’t a ring of sincerity in her words.
“Let’s take a look at you,” Maggie said. Ignoring Thane, she placed the blanket over Becca’s shoulders, then gently touched her ankle.
“Ouch. Watch it.” Becca drew in a swift, whistling breath as an owl hooted softly from one of the lodgepole pines that towered high above them. “Jesus, Mom.”
“Just trying to help.”
“By killing me?” Becca accused.
Maggie rocked back on her heels and told herself that Becca’s bad mood was good news. If she was angry, she wasn’t injured all that badly. “I’m not trying to hurt you, honey.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Becca offered a faltering smile that fell away as quickly as it appeared.
Thane leaned down and squatted next to mother and daughter. Pinning Becca with his steady gaze, he asked, “Think you can ride?”
Becca, expression wary, nodded slowly as she sized him up. “Probably.”
“Good.” Balancing on one knee, he instructed her to sling an arm around his neck. As she did, he reached under her legs with one arm and clasped the other around her back. “Hang on.” As if she weighed nothing, he lifted Becca off the ground and carried her, wrapped in the blanket, to the pinto. There was a part of Maggie that didn’t want anything to do with Thane Walker, that objected to his