Project Enterprise by Pauline Baird Jones

moonlight.
    â€œI’ll look after the…boy.” Hard to get that word out when she slung a long leg over her horse, settled into the saddle with an instinctive, feminine wriggle.
    She slanted a look at him that seemed to say she could take care of herself and he’d best not forget it. He almost smiled. Couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled, let alone almost smiled. She had guts, which brought him full circle to—she deserved better.
    He might not be what most would term better, but looking around this place? He kicked his horse into a slow jog down the trail after hers. He was all there was.

    T hey rode in silence , passing through deep shadow, before emerging into almost bright-as-day moonlight as the horses picked a path through a dry wash in the general direction of the moving lights. When they were distant enough from the camp that Everly couldn’t hear them, “Joe” kicked his horse to a jog that put him next to the girl. Felt her struggle against looking, waited until she gave in, before he spoke.
    â€œYou shouldn’t be out here.”
    That lifted her chin and her brows. “And where should I be?”
    She might have meant to sound defiant or even indifferent. She didn’t manage either. The tone did edge into provocative. Seemed to be some female left in there.
    â€œBack East. Somewhere safer, for sure.” She opened her mouth to object, so he cut in, “You’re not a boy.”
    She looked more resigned than surprised, though she shot back quick enough, “And you’re not a Joe.”
    He grinned, surprising them both. “True enough. How did you—”
    â€œYou look nothing like a Joe.”
    She tried to be irate but failed at that, too, when a grin twitched the edges of a mouth that looked like it needed kissing. As if she felt his interest in getting up close and personal with her mouth, the lower lip pouted an invitation that her brain might not recognize as one. Maybe he should pass on the ghost lights and where they might take him—but if they turned back now they wouldn’t be alone. Going forward seemed the better option for now and truth was, the chances of the ghost lights doing anything but taunting him with false hope were slim.
    â€œWhat do I look like?” It was an opening she could use to slay him if she were inclined that way, but if she didn’t, maybe she’d come up with a name he could live with. He’d tried out a bunch of them since he left Smith behind with the broken remains of the crate he’d landed in. And Galfrioni? Well, it might have worked in another time, another galaxy, but here? It would just get him shot.
    That brought her big-eyed gaze full bore his way. She took her time, studying him from top to bottom, seemed like she enjoyed the looking because she sure didn’t hurry either direction. Her head tilted the other direction and she did the top-to-toe examination again, maybe even slower than before. He liked that she didn’t hurry, found it an encouraging development. Another thing he could like about this time, or at least this place in this time, courting could happen as fast as it needed to. If she didn’t want him, he could find out and move on with only his pride dented a little this time. Her gaze found his and something stirred in the ashes of his heart. Yeah, he needed to move fast. Didn’t need to have it cracked twice, that was for sure.
    â€œChance. You look like a Chance.”
    She hadn’t gone for the jugular, another encouraging development. The name fit better than his boots—or his grandiose Garradian moniker—and the words with the name were apt, too, though she didn’t know it yet. He was her chance and she, well, she might be his chance, too.
    â€œClever—” He stopped as he realized, “Your Pa never said your name.”
    She might have hesitated, or just paused to give him a