Page 23 of Wild Highway (Runaway 2)

A mistake I’d fix on next month’s schedule.

Every month, Katherine and I sat down and outlined lesson blocks and paired them with instructors. We always made sure there was one private lesson slot available for one-on-one rides throughout the day because guests often had last-minute requests. So one instructor stayed behind, while the rest were sent out on the scheduled rides and lessons.

Personally, I hated the group shit. It was tedious and slow. I did better one-on-one when I could go wherever I wanted and the pace was faster. So when we were shorthanded, like we were this week because one of the guys was on vacation, I was the backup for private lessons.

Starting tomorrow, I’d start training Rory so I’d never be on the damn schedule again.

My phone dinged again with another text from Kat.

She’s my friend. And a guest. Be nice. For me? Please?

Yeah, that’s a no.

I loved Katherine. She’d melded into our family seamlessly and was the closest thing to a younger sister I’d ever have. She was hardworking, smart and kind. But adopted sister or not, there was no way in hell I was spending two hours alone with Gemma.

My phone buzzed again.

Do this lesson and I’ll make sure Jake is too busy to bother you for two weeks.

Katherine would probably beg Granddad with those blue eyes for a special task. Something that would flatter him and make him brag at family dinners. I could hear him already.

I can’t help with the equipment next week. Katherine needs me.

Goddamn it. Younger sisters were overrated.

“Fine,” I muttered, not bothering to respond. Kat knew she was dangling a carrot and I wouldn’t resist.

“Wait,” I called to Gemma’s back as she neared the door.

She kept walking.

I tucked my phone away and chased after her, my long strides eating up the distance between us. “Gemma.”

She didn’t slow.

“Gemma!” I bellowed as she stepped out the door and into the sunshine. “Would you stop?”

“Why?” She spun around and threw her arms in the air. Her long ponytail whipped over her shoulder. “What now?”

I wasn’t going to apologize or beg her to come back. Even two weeks without Granddad bothering me wasn’t worth my pride. “Have you been on a horse in the past decade?”

“No. Hence the lesson.”

My gaze traveled up and down her body. She was wearing an oatmeal sweater with a V-neck that dipped low enough to show the swell of her breasts and a pair of jeans that encased her toned thighs. They were cuffed at the ankle, above the line of her tan, suede boots. Her legs looked a mile long and behind my zipper, my dick stirred.

Christ. This lesson would be impossible if I couldn’t keep my eyes off her.

“We’re riding horses, not walking the runway,” I snapped. “Do you have boots?”

“These are boots.” Her eyes dropped to her feet. “What’s wrong with them?”

“Those are not boots.”

“They’ll work for today.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Don’t come crying to me if you step in horse shit.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll be fine.”