He grinned, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “This is one of the reasons I bought the place.”
She clenched her fingers on the leather reins, excitement fluttering through her. He looked so vibrant, so sexy, that more than anything she wished he was attracted to her just as much as she was to him. At least she would have this perfect day with him, before her life returned to normal. Humdrum normal. She suddenly realized what she’d been missing out on. Although she was sure he wasn’t interested in her, just spending time in his company, especially on a such a gorgeous day, made her feel alive.
They rode through the meadow into woodland, tall, green pine trees guarding each side of the narrow track. She followed Mikhail, breathing in the crisp, clean air laced with a hint of pine.
“Here.” He halted his horse, gesturing to a small clearing surrounded by pine trees and white flowering bushes. “I think this would be perfect for lunch.”
Amber nodded and dismounted, allowing Barney to graze at the edge of the clearing.
Mikhail grabbed the saddlebags and shook out a thin plastic cloth to use as their picnic blanket.
“Sit,” he urged.
She kneeled down on the red and white checked plastic, watching him pull out small plastic bags full of interesting food items from the leather pouches.
“I didn’t know what you liked, so I thought this would be best.” He placed two white paper plates on the cloth along with two small bottles of water, and some napkins.
Amber’s stomach rumbled as he laid out crackers, cherry tomatoes, slices of smoked salmon, and a tiny jar of caviar.
He handed her a paper napkin. She suppressed a gasp as an electric shock raced up her arm when his fingers brushed hers.
Trying to hide the fact his touch affected her, she placed the napkin on her lap, and grabbed her plate.
“Thank you.” She watched his white, even teeth biting into a cracker topped with smoked salmon.
Realizing she was staring at him, she turned her attention to her own plate and nibbled on a red cherry tomato. She eyed the jar of caviar, the small black fish eggs daring her to sample them.
She used a cracker to scoop up a few of the fishy balls. Closing her eyes, she chewed. Tiny bubbles of salty blackberry burst on her tongue.
“Do you like it?” His velvet accented voice inquired.
She opened her eyes to find him studying her reaction to the Russian delicacy.
“It’s … interesting.” She was glad she’d tried it, but wasn’t sure if she wanted another helping.
“More?” He grinned at her, holding out the small jar.
She shook her head. “You have it.”
He chuckled, dipping his own cracker into the jar and biting into the sturgeon roe laden morsel.
“Here.” He jumped up and took out another package from the saddlebag. “I forgot about this.” Mikhail unwrapped it and placed it between them on the blanket. “It is Russian oatcake.”
Amber picked up a slice of the hearty looking cake. “Mm. Did you make this?” It was moist, soft and chewy. Absolutely delicious.
“Yes.” He flashed a grin. “It’s an old family recipe.”
They chattered throughout the rustic meal, Mikhail telling her about his ranch, and how much he enjoyed living here. “I believe I am the only Russian in the area.” He shrugged. “But everyone has been welcoming.”
“Do you have family?”
“No.” He shook his head. “My parents, they died fifteen years ago in a car crash. In Russia.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” Now she felt guilty for asking.
“Don’t be. It’s okay.” He covered her hand with his. Her pulse jumped at the warmth of his touch.
She held her breath, wishing they could stay like this forever.
“Ten years ago, I decided I wanted a better life. Since I did not have family in Russia, it wasn’t difficult to make the decision to try living in America. I love it here. Especially Wyoming. When I saw the ranch for sale, I knew I had to have it.”
“And you bought it,” she murmured, conscious of the fact that his hand still covered hers.
“Yes.” He smiled at her, warmth glinting in his eyes. “When I see something I need, then I do everything I can to obtain it.”
Her pulse thrummed in her throat at the intent expression on his face. Surely he couldn’t be talking about her? Having feelings for her? Wanting - needing her?
He brought his hand up to gently finger a strand of her hair, the ends waving against her shoulders. “Your hair is like silken cinnamon. I think you should always wear it down like this.”
Amber’s breathing shredded. His face was so close to hers. Was he going to kiss her? Before she could be sure that was his intention, he pulled back slightly, his fingers sliding down, until he released the strands against the cotton fabric of her blouse.