After she got back from her morning trail run and had showered, Laura headed down to the front desk. Bess handed her the day’s signup sheet. Six tourists for a trail ride. All had listed themselves as moderate to experienced riders. Downgrade that to “I’ve ridden a horse before” through “I have a fifty-fifty chance of getting a horse to go where I want, despite the nice berry bush we’re passing.”
Then she focused on the names. Grayson Clyde Masterson. One of the ones who’d declared himself as experienced.
“I thought he was checking out?” she pointed at the name for Bess.
She shook her graying curls, “No such luck, Laura. He saw you were leading the trail ride and decided to stay at the last minute. Actually said his meetings at the conference went so well, he was taking the week off and
