One Wild Cowboy and A Cowboy To Marry: One Wild Cowboy / A Cowboy to Marry

Emily’s exasperation returned anew. “Because Xavier’s pass was ludicrous enough without adding another layer of ridiculousness to it by having my father call him to his study and sit him down for The Talk.”

Abruptly, Dylan went very still, a fact which only confirmed Emily’s worst suspicions. Seeing her chance to do a little more sleuthing, she added cheekily, “You know, kind of like the one I suspect my father had with you today, about me?”

The kind that generally sent weaker men running for the hills...

Just like that, a wall went up. “It’s not going to work, Emily.” Dylan was the picture of lazy male self-assurance.

She stared at him.

He stared right back. “I’m still not telling you what was said.”

Emily sighed—she could have predicted that. Pushing away from the car, she suddenly felt reinvigorated. “Then how about doing something to cheer me up instead?”

Dylan pushed away from her car, too. “And what would that be?” he inquired with mock seriousness.

“Allow me to come and visit the mustangs again,” Emily said, this time stepping forward to invade his space.

Dylan stayed where he was even as respect glimmered in his eyes. “Are you going to have time?”

Emily ignored the tingle of excitement that started within her whenever they were within kissing distance. “I will if we go tonight.”

For a minute, Emily thought Dylan was going to turn her down. “Isn’t it a little past your bedtime?” he teased in a tone sexy enough to make her want to melt right then and there.

Stubbornly, Emily held her ground, knowing she wasn’t ready for her time with Dylan to end. “It’s only nine-thirty.”

He continued to look down at her, considering. “And you have to go to work at four tomorrow morning.”

“I can get by on very little sleep, when I want,” Emily murmured in her most cajoling voice. “Please, Dylan. I’ve been thinking about the mustangs all day. Wondering how they’re adjusting. If you’ve given them names yet.”

Seeming to realize her interest and concern were genuine, his expression softened. “They’re settling in. And no, I haven’t given them names.”

“Maybe I could help with that.”

“Thirty minutes,” he warned. “Tops. Then you have to be on your way.”

“Great.” Emily felt a completely uncalled-for fluttering in her middle. “You won’t regret it.”

* * *

THE TRUTH WAS, Dylan already regretted it. Emily McCabe might be all wrong for him, but she was also the kind of woman he could fall hard for. And the last thing either of them needed was any more complications in their already overburdened lives.

So on the drive over, he figured out how to get what needed to be done accomplished in the shortest time possible so he could send her on her way.

He led the way in his pickup truck. She followed in her car. The first problem appeared as soon as they had parked and she got out of her sporty little sedan. He looked at her shoes. No question, her sandals were not appropriate for the pen.

Emily caught his gaze and lifted a hand. “Not to worry, cowboy. I’ve got that covered.”

And to prove it, she sashayed back to the trunk and opened it up. Inside were enough clothes, shoes and purses to fill a closet. Deliberately, Emily fished out a pair of cowgirl boots.

“Come prepared, do you?” Dylan quipped, wondering if there was a toothbrush and nightie in there somewhere, too.

Emily shot him an arch look over her shoulder. “I’m a Texan, after all,” she declared with a warm, winning smile.

She was so darn charming he couldn’t help but smile back. “So naturally it follows...?”

She winked mischievously. “That I can’t go anywhere without at least one pair of boots.”

Dylan stood by while she bent to slip off her sandals. She donned a pair of socks and her cowgirl boots, the hem of her dress riding up her thighs as she did so.

Dylan ignored the immediate response of his body and headed for the barn. There, he switched on both interior and exterior lights, the yellow glow a beacon of reassurance in the moonlit, starry Texas night.

He came back with two bunches of alfalfa leaves.

As always, Emily was raring to go. “You always feed them this late?”

“They require up to fifteen-pound rations of hay per horse per day. Because of their small stomachs, it’s better to feed and let them forage all day.”

“Makes sense.” Emily fell into step beside Dylan.

“And it’s a way to rapidly increase their trust of me and now you.”

The three horses were in a high wood-rail-sided paddock, linked by a fenced aisleway to the two round training pens—one with a roof, one without—on either end. From where the horses stood, they could see everything that was going on. Another schooling plus. By the time it got to be their turn, the mustangs knew what to expect. Which again, made it easier for all of them.

With the ease of someone who had grown up around horses, and loved them dearly, Emily followed Dylan into the paddock. “How invested are you in actually doing the naming?” she asked curiously.

“Not at all.” Focused on the feeding, Dylan tore off leaves of alfalfa and put them just ahead of the trio of horses. Emily followed suit.

And so they went—dropping, moving on, dropping another two leaves, moving on—until finally the horses were following them.

Emily kept her voice low and calm. “Does that mean you’ll let me do it?”

Dylan shrugged and replied before he could think, “If it makes you happy.”

Emily chuckled in delight. “Oh...so you want me happy now....”

Dylan rolled his eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.” Clearing his throat, he nodded toward their equine companions. “So back to the stars of the show....”

Emily regarded them carefully. “The three-year-old should be Ginger. The yearlings, Salt and Pepper.”

Made sense. Dylan nodded. “I’ll let the interested parties know.” Finished, they stepped out of the paddock. As they strode toward the barn, Emily asked, “Do you have a horse of your own?”

Dylan slanted her a glance. “What do you think?”

“Can I meet him, too?”

Women didn’t usually ask him that. But then, Dylan thought, the women he saw usually weren’t interested in horses. “Sure,” he said.

* * *