Chapter 8

“Mothers are like that, Mark.”

I shrugged. Couldn’t prove it by me.

Quinn took back the bag, ran his lips over the side of my neck, and went into the bathroom. In a matter of seconds, I heard the water running.

I stripped off my shirt and let it lie where I dropped it, and undid my fly, but when I attempted to toe off my shoes, I realized it wasn’t going to be that easy. I was still wearing the boots Quinn had given me.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked as I limped into the bathroom.

“Remind me to shoot myself the next time I let you talk me into going horseback riding.” I lowered the lid on the john and sat down gingerly.

“Mark, you handled Blue really well.”

“Yeah, and that’s supposed to make me feel good? You’re not limping.”

“Do you know how long I’ve been riding?”