Page 53 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

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JANNA

Iturned to Martha with my most charming smile. “Hey, Martha? Would it be okay if I showed this city slicker how to ride a horse?”

Martha’s face lit up like I’d just offered her front-row tickets to the Super Bowl. “Oh, honey, that would be wonderful! Joe!” she called out to her husband, who was puttering around near the barn. “Come here! You’ve got to see this!”

Joe ambled over, grinning when he saw the look of mild panic creeping across Dalton’s face. “What’s all the excitement about?”

“Janna’s going to teach Dalton how to ride Honeycrisp,” Martha announced, clapping her hands together. “Isn’t that just perfect?”

“Honeycrisp?” Dalton muttered under his breath, eyeing the massive horse with obvious skepticism. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Oh, this should be fun,” Joe said with a laugh. “Do you really not know how to ride a horse?”

Dalton frowned, still looking at the horse. “I never had any reason to learn.”

Joe nodded. “Just stay calm. They can sense your fear.”

“Great,” Dalton muttered.

“I’ll get Mac,” Martha said.

“Mac?” Dalton asked.

“A very nice gelding for Janna to ride. Short for Mcintosh.”

“Thank you,” I said. “That would be awesome. We don’t want him galloping off without me.”

“Guys, this is not happening,” Dalton muttered.

“Come on,” I coaxed. “It can’t be any harder than running through the simulator.”

He took another look at Honeycrisp. “The simulator doesn’t have a kick that can break a man’s ribs.”

“If you’re scared, you don’t have to do it,” I said, knowing it would piss him off.

He groaned. “I’m not scared.”

Martha beamed. “It’s not every day we get to see a flyboy try to ride something without wings.”

“Exactly my concern,” Dalton grumbled. “I like being in control.”

“Where did the name Honeycrisp come from?” I asked as I rubbed the mare’s nose.

“She’s named after the apples we grow here,” Martha said. “And Mac? Well, you get the idea.”

Dalton eyed her like she might explode. “I’d feel more comfortable if it had an engine and a flight stick. Something with wings.”

“That’s how I feel about helicopters,” I said. “But unless we find you a pegasus, you’ll be riding a wingless horse today.”

“What the hell is a pegasus?”

I laughed. “A horse with wings. Try to keep up.”

He gave me a look that nearly had me jumping on him and riding him. It was all fire and fear and desire. Lust. It burned between us. Yesterday had done nothing to squelch the burn. It was like adding just enough gasoline to make it flare hotter and faster.

“I’ll get you a saddle,” Joe said.