The sun had disappeared from the sky, replaced with a sliver of the moon and a blanket of stars Mica was still getting used to. The sights and sounds of the city had completely faded away. If tasked with having to get back home on his own Mica would be hopelessly lost, wandering the plans. The thought was enough to send his heart racing. Solo tensed underneath him, picking up on the subtle changes in his body. Relax. Just relax. Unless something terrible happens to Forrest you’ll be just fine. To help ease his racing mind he took a deep breath and attempted to lose himself to the night.

The whisper of the grass as the horses moved through it. The creak of the leather saddles. The usual choir of crickets and toads and other nightly creatures, including the occasional forlorn owl and, much to Mica’s dismay, the how of a coyote.

Not for the first time he wondered where exactly they were headed and judging by the low grade pain in his back they’d been riding for quite a few hours. What he wouldn’t have given at that moment to have a hot tub to relax in, one of the jets positioned to hit him in the lower back. Maybe a glass of wine, some candles, a good looking man to keep him company…

At least I’ve got the man.

Forrest rode just to the front and side of him, the gelding plodding along in the dark much like Solo. It gave Mica a great view of Forrest’s backside, the way his hips moved with the motion of the horse, back and forth, fluid and hypnotic. Mica had learned quickly that years spent in the saddle had given the man amazing control over his hips, every thrust powerful and hungry, yet somehow always gentle.

If I keep letting my mind wander like this, I’ll find myself in a very uncomfortable position.

He cleared his throat. “Are we almost there?”

“Just about.”

“How can you be so sure in the dark?”

Forrest chuckled. “Because I know the lay of my land, hon. And the ride will have been worth it, trust me.”

He tried to work the kinks out of his back by shifting around, earning him a displeased snort from Solo. At least he no longer felt like a sack of potatoes when he climbed on her back, though he definitely wouldn’t be entering any rodeos any time soon. Or ever. “The truck would have been faster,” he grumbled, thinking of Forrest’s blue pickup.

Forrest may have snorted; it could have been Ransom, hard to tell.

When they rounded the next hill Mica brought Solo to a stop, instantly feeling like a jerk for his whining, including the thoughts he kept to himself. Something inside of him shifted and though he could not quite explain why tears welled in his eyes. He blinked fiercely to keep them back. Apparently, not only had he married one good looking cowboy who certainly knew how to please his man, but there was a hidden well of romance within the cowboy.