Ring of Fire by Susan Fox Page A

been running on a quiet country road when a rattly old truck drove by and backfired, and Eric had hit the ground, his mind back in Afghanistan as he coughed and gasped for breath.
    If he wanted to avoid flashbacks, maybe he should ride every day. Or have dinner with Lark Cantrell. He stifled a rueful chuckle.
    â€œEric, Jayden,” Sally called, “let’s try another slow lope.”
    He complied happily. The gait was easier and more comfortable for him than trotting. Glancing at Jayden, with Lark and Corrie on either side of Pookie, he saw that the boy was doing fine. When Sally had them stop, Eric caught the kid’s eye and raised his hand in a thumbs-up signal. He got a sparkly eyed grin in return.
    After they took their break and then mounted up again, Sally said they’d have a short trail ride. She explained quietly to Eric that, while Jayden had made great progress, the environment on the trail was less controlled than in the ring, so she was going to keep them at a walk. If something spooked Jayden’s horse, the boy didn’t yet have the strength and coordination to be able to respond safely.
    Eric liked that “yet.” The atmosphere around Jayden was a “can do” one. No one pressured the boy or made him feel inadequate, but he was supported in his efforts to become the best he could be.
    As they rode along the dirt road, Eric’s horse turned his head, eyeing a wild rosebush. The last time Celebration had done that, he’d veered off to munch leaves. This time, Eric directed the horse forward, firmly but gently. He was getting a better sense of Celebration’s movements and cues, and how to communicate with the animal. Sally’s message about relaxing his rigid back and matching the rhythm of the horse had gotten through. If he stayed here long enough, maybe he’d turn into a real rider.
    But he wouldn’t stay that long. Like Jayden, he refused to accept limitations. But unlike the boy, whose development would, hopefully, improve over years, Eric had a more immediate goal in mind, and the fierce motivation to achieve it.
    Celebration shook his head and pranced. Eric realized that he’d tensed up and had tightened his grip on the reins. He eased off, and the horse settled. Remembering what Jayden had said about horses, and how they were like dogs, Eric stroked Celebration’s glossy neck. The dark brown color was called bay, he’d learned.
    This actually wasn’t half bad, riding through the scenic countryside on a warmish, if overcast, September morning, exchanging an occasional comment with the folks up ahead and watching Lark’s back as she strode easily along beside her son’s horse. Her ass filled out her jeans very nicely, but it didn’t sway; she had the same straightforward, athletic gait as a soldier. He liked that about her. He liked lots of things about her.
    If circumstances had been different, he’d be asking her if she was interested in sharing another bottle of wine tonight—alone, in his quarters.
    Instead, she called back, “Jayden would like to invite you over for dinner again, Eric. Interested?”
    He’d rather that Lark found him sexy and wanted to be alone with him. Instead, she was being a good mom, inviting her son’s friend over. Maybe viewing Eric as a charity case, the lonely, broken soldier.
    He snorted, a grating sound in the back of his throat, and Celebration pranced restlessly. Eric leaned forward to stroke the horse’s neck in a silent apology. How stupid to feel self-pity, bitterness. Jayden and Lark were being friendly, and he was lucky to be the beneficiary of their kindness. “I don’t want to inconvenience you and Mary.”
    Lark glanced over her shoulder. “Trust me, we won’t do anything fancy. Just add another seat at the table.” She faced forward again, always attentive to her son and his horse. “But be warned, I cook on weekends and