OLIVER: WESTERN CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE (Blackwater Canyon Ranch Book 2) by Cindy Stark Page B

laughed again. “Hmm…we’ll have to see if we can rectify that.”
    The sun rained down on them, drying their skin and clothes as they searched for the perfect place to go mudding.
    “Here,” Oliver announced as they reached a flat, wooded area where other small sources of water wound between the trees before they entered the stream.
    “Hang on.” He revved the motor and sent them flying forward. The force of the machine entering the muddy area splashed dirty water up on her jeans and the bottom of her t-shirt.
    She laughed as he turned a tight corner and her butt slipped sideways on the seat. “Oh, God!”
    “Don’t let go!” His face was full of contagious amusement when he paused and glanced back at her. “Is that as tight as you can hold me?”
    She kept her gaze pinned on his as she scooted as close as she could to him and locked her hands once again. She straightened and lifted her chin as close to his ear as possible. “I’m ready,” she whispered. Two could play that game.
    He paused for a moment and then shook his head as though to clear it. “Good.”
    They circled through the mud and grassy water, laughing and splashing like they didn’t have a care in the world.
    He finally came to a stop on dry ground much later, long after she was past exhausted from constant laughter. “We should find somewhere to eat.” He drove farther along the edge until the water deepened and the bank became more defined. Trees weren’t as thick, giving the sunshine a chance to warm them.
    He shut off the engine and slid from the seat, his eyes widening when he looked at her. “Oh, shit.”
    She knew exactly what he referenced. “Don’t tell me I look as bad as you.” Mud splotched his face and clothes.
    He nodded, his eyes sparkling. “You’re a mess.”
    “Gee, thanks.” She surveyed her once-green shirt that now looked more like camouflage. A quick swipe of her hand proved her hair was a sodden mess. She tried to wipe the mud from her face, but it was pointless.
    He grabbed her hand as her fingers crested her cheek, stopping her. “Don’t. You’re beautiful the way you are.”
    How could she be after a mud bath? But his sentiment touched her deeply, and she found it hard to look away from him. “How are we going to eat when we’re so dirty? Let alone me walk back in the house or you get in your truck.”
    “We’ll wash off first.” He kept hold of her hand and tugged her down the bank and into the shallow river. Clear water swept across her feet and shins, and she jerked her gaze to the side as something swam past her.
    “I saw a fish!” She glanced around for another, excited for her discovery.
    “It’s likely. We have plenty of cutthroats and rainbows.”
    “Cutthroats? Are they dangerous?”
    He laughed. “God, you’re cute. Trout. You’ve heard of them, right?”
    “Yes, I’ve heard of them.” Embarrassment heated her cheeks. “I didn’t know any were cutthroats, though.”
    “They’re called that because of the red or orange streaks on the sides of their throats. They’re not going to cut your throat.”
    “I didn’t think they would.” Not that she’d admit, anyway. She bent as though to wash her hands and splashed water at him instead for laughing at her.
    “Hey,” he complained.
    “Just trying to help you wash off some mud.” She took a step away from him as the threat of retaliation blazed in his eyes.
    “Is that so?” He bent toward the water.
    “ Oh, no .” She turned and tried to get away, but a big splash of cool water hit her in the back. She swiveled to fire off a counter attack. He was ready with his next round of ammunition, and it hit her squarely in the chest. She glanced down as her dripping shirt clung to her breasts. “You didn’t.”
    He grinned. “I’m sure I did.”
    She cupped her fingers and sent another handful toward him.
    With a quick sidestep, he avoided most of the water. Determined, she advanced and tried again. He caught her wrist