I feel Liam's sculpted abs beneath his shirt as we bounce up and down in rhythm, following the horse's move. My breath stills when I lean towards his sturdy, wide back, searching for my balance. His muscles tense, responding to my touch.

Oh boy! I draw back stoutly, blushing.

"If you continue like that, you're surely going to fall down." Liam's words almost come true when the horse speeds up.

Shit! I tighten my grip, bumping up, then down, in turns . . . a rough, exciting pace.

"Like this?" I ask, stifling a laugh.

"Whatever fits you, Ms. Jones. I'm only concerned about your safety; don't find it such a burden," he says gently.

What an assurance! I sigh softly.

"I hope you can breathe." I suddenly feel I'm buckling him a bit too hard.

"Why?" He huffs a small laugh.

Oh, the sound of his laughter!

"I mean, I hope I'm not holding too tight. I wouldn't want suffocation from a clumsy stranger to be the cause of your death in such a tender age." I regret soon after blurting out such an excuse for a joke.

What's wrong with my word-filter today?

Liam laughs for real this time, sounding at ease somehow. "It's the right amount, but no more," he replies.

"Okay, Sir. No more," I breathe with a content smile, my mood strangely in a loft. Liam's abdominal muscles contract, and I believe he's laughing, and it elicits a weird sense of joy in me. "Anything funny?" I query.

"A lot, actually," he answers after a short pause. "I think you are, indeed, clumsy . . . Ms. Jones."

"Am I?" I gape, searching for his face with a peek over his shoulder. He gazes back at me, his boisterous blue eyes currently as cool as the soothing beach clouds. His lips curl into a mocking smile, and I stay rattled under his scrutiny.

His intense gaze on my lips.

I breathe erratically, my hormones reacting inappropriately. It's as though he's seeing me for the first time, and I feel the same way—hypnotized by his eyes.

He gently shifts his face ahead, leading Charlie toward a clearing of long stubborn leaves, and I clear my suddenly-dry throat, pulling back. Why do I feel hot in the cheeks? I puff some air, reclaiming my composure.

"Maybe you should stop being tense and relax your body," Liam says, snapping me from my trance. "You may scare the horse."

"Really?" I ask but he doesn't respond. "Such manners you have," I mutter underneath my breath and decide to shut up.

"I do have manners. But I wonder if you have any." He pitches a quick glance at me over his shoulder.

"What?" I chuckle, and he laughs gently. "I mean, why?"

"You seem to be speaking too much of your mind," Liam explains, "even the things you don't want to disclose."

Damn, he's right!

"I'm not sure what you're talking about," I argue nevertheless. "I can filter my speech perfectly well, Mr. Darcy. I trust my ability to be poised."

"Oh?" he utters, mocking me. "I see that stubbornness is not the only problem you have, Ms. Jones. You also have a war in accepting the truth, don't you?"

"Okay, enough!" I snap.

"As you wish," Liam breathes and we go silent momentarily, letting myself calm down. He's getting into my head more than I desire. "Are you angry at me?" he asks out of the blue.

"No, I'm not. But maybe you can stop being too obtuse about stuff," I utter without regret.

"Meaning? I'm not sure if I'm obtuse, by any means, Ms. Jones. In fact, I constantly hear that I'm too harsh."

No, he's not.

"No, I hardly find you harsh. You're rather too blatant, and it makes me wonder if it's how you behave with everyone or it's just me who has got into the bad side of you," I add, and his stomach tightens again; he's laughing.

I laugh along, quietly.

"I prefer keeping my comments to myself, most of the time, as far as someone's character is concerned," he says gently, a hint of melancholy accompanying his voice.

My heart shrinks in comprehension of something deep within him that may be his own demon.

"But that doesn't seem to be the case at the moment," I prompt, feeling like I'm conversing with an old man from an old English era.

Could it be that I'm talking like one of those old ladies right now?

"Maybe you push my limits," Liam remarks mirthfully, and I could feel my stunned eyebrow lifting up.

"Do I?" I tag.

"We shall see about that," he mutters warningly. Wait, what? "Stay firm," he instructs.

I hold him tighter as I realize I've been too comfortable. "Do you enjoy riding horses?" I attempt to prolong the conversation and I'm glad it works.

"I'd say I love them more than driving a Ferrari," he answers, and there's humor in his tone of voice—strange and exciting.

He can make jokes, too.

"You're classic." I laugh heartily.

Honestly, I'm having a blast. I might as well trap us here with a feign of sprained back, so that we don't go back to the house.

Yuck! Now stop being pathetic, girl. Okay, that's true. I shut it, only to realize . . . Wait, this is not the way. Or is it?

"Where are you taking me?" I ask stoutly. I'm not worried, just surprised to see us passing through a different route.

"Home," Liam answers curtly, and I hold my tongue. "What were you expecting? That I'm kidnapping you?"

"It would be your loss, because I'm as broke as a pauper." I smile at the scenario of me being kidnapped for money.

Laughing, Liam remarks, "You really have trust issues, don't you?" I go silent, utterly silent, and so does my subconscious who loves yapping. "I apologize if—"

"There's nothing bad in mistrusting," I utter, interrupting him. "What's the point of trusting if the probability of it being a lie is higher? It's like believing you're happy when you're not."

"Are you unhappy?" Liam queries, and my heart cringes.

"I'm empty," I think out loud, not intending to say.

Silence is replaced by a strong breeze.

"Is this your first?" Liam asks, my remark forsaken.

"What?" I frown, bemused.

"Being on a horse."

"Yeah, it's my first."

"No wonder," he mutters.

"Meaning?" I tighten my grip, feeling a little bereft for an unknown reason.

"You seem excited, and scared as well," says Liam, and he's right. "However, you should trust both the horse and the rider, if you want to enjoy it more."

"Oh?"

"Yes, Ms. Jones, and I'm not a scam."

So begrudging.

"I didn't say that." I beam, my good mood restored.

"You insinuated, and it's the same thing."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Darcy, I was merely communicating my concerns. I didn't mean to offend you."

"You did not. I just wanted to be clear."

"Okay, I understand." I smile, entertaining a foreign joy by talking to him like this.

"Are you making fun of me?" he asks, and now I burst out laughing, much to my amusement.

"No, I'm not," I reply. "I'm having so much fun right now. Pardon my display of happiness." I roll my eyes, and I can feel his smile from his back alone. Wow!

"Ms. Jones," Liam calls after a short silence.

"Yes?"

"We all have fear; you're not the only one."

Why is he nailing my heart? I feel like I'm an open book right now.

"I guess," I whisper, and my grip tightens around him instinctively, feeling as though I'd fall mentally and physically if I don't hold onto him.

The ride doesn't last long as we quickly reach the house. I'm surprised that everyone is gathered outside the front porch. Eleanor is back. She walks towards us right away, followed by Sam and Malik, who move side by side.

Peter is standing aside, with that fully brown horse, together with Julian. I comprehend that the former was about to follow us in case we took a minute longer. Only Betty is missing to fill the entire squad.

How charming! I've made myself a grand exhibition.

"Oh, you're finally here." Eleanor regards me with the look of respite. I still don't get what this charade is all about. "Where did you find her, Liam?" she asks her son.

Liam dismounts Charlie and helps me do the same.

He finally utters, "She can tell you herself." He walks away, leaving everyone in suspense.

Back to his crooked self, I guess. I sigh softly, my gaze stalking him.

"Kira, darling, where were you? We've been worried sick. And your hair? Why is it wet?" Eleanor asks.

"Did you get lost?" Sam looks concerned, her phone in hand. "I tried to call you and—"

"No, I didn't get lost," I answer fast. "Well, I was swimming?" I say in a low voice.

God, this is so embarrassing.

"Swimming?" Eleanor asks, and I nod agreeably.

A second goes by and to my surprise, everyone burst out laughing. Everyone including Peter who's like Liam's clone when it comes to playing cold.

Although I don't think I understand what's so funny about it, I'm still glad I'm not being reprimanded for my crazy actions.

"I swear I like her," Malik utters simply.

"Oh, Kira, seems like the ranch life agrees quite well with you," Eleanor says, still laughing. "Just go in and take a shower, dear."

"Oh, okay," I answer and start moving.

"Let me go with you," Sam offers to accompany me inside.

I barely enter my room, and she already starts bombarding me with questions about how it all happened and stuff.

"I just walked until I reached the river."

"And you just couldn't resist swimming, could you?" she mutters while lying on the bed, holding my camera.

"Well, it was nothing." My voice is heedless.

"Hey, do you have any idea who Malik is?" she snaps abruptly.

"No, do I have to?" I reply while undressing.

"Of course you should," she answers quickly. "I can tell he has a thing for you."

"Me? I don't think so."

"Trust me, he's into you."

"It's his problem then," I quip.

Wrapping myself with a towel, I get seated on the bed, trying to browse some pictures I took.

"Can you believe he is actually trying to buy our company's control rights and the—"

"Can you please speak English, Sam? Don't use those business jargons for God's sake!" I cry, and she enjoys my torments as usual.

She explains everything to me in detail, and I try my level best to pick interest on the subject. She says that Malik owns several companies in Europe, plenty of real estate in the US, and oil business in UAE.

Frankly, he's somehow surpassed my imagination, I must confess. She also enlightens me about his never-ending articles with women in magazines and gossip tabloids.

Typical player? That much I've gathered.

"He's reputable with ladies," Sam goes on, "so be very careful, my friend. I know he has eyes for you."

And here we go again.

"Okay, I will," I answer, just to bury the topic.

"I wonder if Liam is also like Malik, after all they are best friends." She exhales audibly.

"Why don't you ask Malik about that? You're good at digging dirt, aren't you?"

Sam stands up immediately, and looks at me jovially. "You're right, I should do that."

"There, doll." I smile faintly.

"Well, you go on with your shower, I'll be downstairs," she tells me breezily before storming out.

"Good luck," I utter, sighing.

Staring at Charlie on the screen of my camera, my mind quickly teleports back to the Yellowstone river. I remember the moment Liam caught me when I almost fell; his touch felt so sweet and exquisitely familiar.

No, Kira, get a grip! Not Liam Darcy. I quickly shake my head to undo the thought.

I end up thinking of Sam instead. She's obviously falling hard for him, and I understand her. But why do I feel so uneasy about this whole situation? Why am I so afraid that something tragic might happen? I really hope I'm wrong.

I think the best thing to do, in order to achieve that is to stay far away from Liam Darcy.

Later on, I join the two ladies in the kitchen, after getting myself presentable once again. Eleanor is busy tending whatever that smells like pasta, and Betty isn't anywhere to be seen.

However, it's when I hear the sound of the China bowl landing on the kitchen floor, that I realize Betty may probably be around nearby.

"Yeah, keep breaking them, Betty. Just finish them all. We'll just buy the new ones," Eleanor utters, resigned in manners.

"I'm sorry for that," I casually say, while advancing further and take a seat at the wooden countertop with three chairs attached.

"Don't worry, I'm used to all the breakage by now," Eleanor says with a warm smile while gritting the cheese. "Betty and dropping things is nothing big around here at all. Julian calls her Betty the clumsy."

We both laugh.

"Then why do you still keep her?" I ask, out of curiosity.

Eleanor thinks for a while and then smiles sheepishly. "I guess she's someone I feel at ease having around. Other than dropping things and trip over her own footstep every now and then, she is a very special girl, and I could trust her with anything around here." She sounds like a school girl talking, and I love how serene she looks, her face placid. "Well, except for cooking and my precious china cups," she adds, and Betty appears with a shy smile.

While helping Betty with the dishes, Eleanor tells me more about Montana and its life compared to London. I gather she hardly has anyone to chat with, and with our being here, she feels great having more people around.

And I'm having a blast telling her about myself, something I scarcely do.

Around eight we settle down for the simple Italian dinner that had my mouth watery since in the kitchen. I find myself face to face with Liam as we sit across from one another. Sam is right beside him while grinning stupidly at the sight of Mac and cheese.

"This is terrific, Eleanor," Sam comments on both the food and wine.

"My pleasure, Sam. I also have some credits to my assistant chef here who inspired my new recipe." She gives me a sweet smile.

"Me?" I utter, and she laughs. "Oh, you mean the never-ending tasting session you graced me with earlier? Just so you know, I had a pleasure doing it."

Because I worship food.

"You like cooking?" Liam opens his precious mouth at last, and even grants me access to his ocean-like eyes.

"She loves cooking," Sam answers on my behalf. "And she's great."

"A little. Cooking is such a rewarding art," I say, and quite a faint of a smile appears at the corner of Liam's peach lips.

Honestly, his lips remind me of peaches, and I love peaches.

"So, how often do you come to the ranch, Liam?" Sam asks.

"Twice or thrice a year," he answers.

"I see, you prefer London over here, right?"

"No, I've got commitments in London, that's why I ought to be there most of the time."

"I think London is great," Sam utters.

"It is," he replies.

"I'm sure it is, but Montana is so relaxing." I think inwardly, only to realize that I've spoken out loud.

"I agree," Liam prompts right away, his gaze shifted solely to my side. "Have you ever been to London, Ms. Jones?"

"No, not at all," I answer quickly, and his eyes stay on mine while sipping his wine nonchalantly.

I've got to work on my big mouth, seriously.

My friend is securing her future here, and I'm busy ruining it.

"I'll be more than happy to take you to London." A familiar voice responds comically.

"Malik." Eleanor chuckles softly, sounding at her peak having the table full. "I thought you weren't going to wake up soon."

He shrugs while pulling a plate for himself. "You know how it is, Aunt. I sleep the best when I'm here"

"I can see that," Eleanor retorts, and it's true he's been sleeping for over three hours.

"I'd love to see London, and the whole of Europe, someday," Sam says with a smile, once the silence takes over.

"I'm sure you do," remarks Liam. "And what other cities fascinate you apart from London?"

"Paris," she answers immediately. "I've been there twice but I can't get enough. Also Amsterdam and Rome."

As they discuss geography, I decide to indeed stuff my belly while thinking of the hot chocolate awaiting to be dipped.

I swear I'll end up looking like a whale upon my return.