Free One Brave Cowboy by Kathleen Eagle Page B

on her hand. “It’s our turn to swing.”
    â€œWhat?” She stumbled over the angle her sudden pivot required. “We’re walkin’ here,” she quipped.
    â€œDid you see this?” He led her down a small grassy slope, jumped a dry washout and scrambled up the other side,
    She couldn’t see anything. The stars were out, the horizon held on to a rosy sliver of leftover sunset, and the moon had yet to show its face.
    â€œDo you have night vision?”
    â€œOf course.”
    Now she saw a huge, dark, hulking tree. It wasn’t until he grabbed something hanging from it, tugged and didn’t detect any give that she realized what kind of swinging he had in mind. He assessed the distance from the ground to the thick, wide plank seat, muttered, “Too low,” and tossed the seat over the branch that held it until the length of the ropes met his requirements.
    â€œI can’t wait to see you climb up there and fix it when you’re finished playing,” she said.
    â€œDon’t hold your breath.” He gave the ropes a firm tug.
    â€œBut what about the kids?”
    â€œThey’ll fight over who gets to make the climb.”
    â€œSomebody might fall.”
    â€œI never did.” He took a seat. “How much do you weigh?”
    â€œTwo-twenty. What’s it to ya?” She grabbed the rope, stacking her hand on top of hi, and circled toward his back. “I’ll start you off with one push, but then—”
    He caught her at the waist with a long shepherd’s crook of an arm. “Come sit on my lap and let’s ride double.” He drew her to stand between his knees. “This is a two-passenger swing. They don’t make ’em like this anymore.”
    â€œBecause seats made out of leftover lumber…” She took a rope in each hand, kicked off her shoes, stepped up and planted a foot on either side of his hips. “…somebody could get hurt.” She lowered herself onto his lap.
    â€œKeep most of that two-twenty off somebody, he’ll be fine.”
    She stared at him for a moment. She shouldn’t reward such talk. But, then, she shouldn’t be sitting on him like this. Her next bold move—tipping his hat back—exposed bright expectation in his eyes. He was waiting. She dropped her head back and laughed.
    He took his hat off and tossed it in the grass,pushed off the ground with his booted feet just as she stretched her legs out behind his back. “You’re a hundred or so off in your estimate, I’d say.”
    They were flying low, chasing evening shadows with bright smiles.
    She leaned back on the upswing. “This is crazy!”
    â€œYou never did this?”
    â€œOkay for two little people, maybe, but this limb could break.”
    â€œPretend we’re one big person, and we’ll blend.” Forward on the backswing, she lent him an ear. “A good tree feels sorry for a kid this heavy—” he nipped her earlobe between whisperings “—coming out here all alone in the dark—” nuzzled her cheek “—looking to take a few minutes’ flight.”
    His first kiss came mid-flight. Lips to lips only. No hands, no arms. It felt like a warm greeting, a discovery so welcome as to warrant a replay. And another, and another, each tasting sweeter than the last with her sitting on him like this and him growing on her like that. Barely perceptible, a tickle between her legs that begged to be pressed. But the shared awareness and the delicious resistance was worth preserving. A good lover would know that. And Cougar, she now knew, would be such a lover. The lover she’d known in dreams.
    They let the motion wind down by slow degrees. Just before standstill he took her face in his handsand kissed her lusciously, thoroughly, to the point of knowing nothing but the joy of kissing.
    He touched his forehead to hers, rolled it back and forth, surely