The Wrangler

“Western saddles are heavy,” he murmured. Her arms were tiny. He could just about wrap his entire hand around one.

“Yeah. I just thought…” He held her gaze.

Let. Her. Go.

“What’d you think?” he asked softly. Just touching her about lit him on fire and he couldn’t imagine what it’d be like to kiss her—

“Gracious! You’re still in here.”

They sprang apart.

Gigi stared at him in silent rebuke. “What the devil’s taking so long, Clint? Her tea’s getting cold.”

“DON’T LET HIM PUSH YOU around,” Gigi told Sam as she led her away from the barn.

“Believe me, I won’t,” the young woman said, her eyes peering down at the ground.

“Do you have a hotel back in town?” Gigi asked. “Do you need to go back there and check out?”

“No, but really, Mrs. Baer, I hate to impose.”

She seemed like such a sweet thing. Gigi had wanted to wrap her up and tell her everything would be all right. Samantha had a world of hurt hiding inside.

“It’s fine,” Gigi said. “But you’ll need to watch that one in there,” she said, pointing over her shoulder. “He’s a real scallywag.”

She glanced back at the barn. “I’ve noticed.”

“He thinks because he’s my grandson he can boss me around.”

“I’ve noticed that, too.”

Gigi studied her. “So I take it that means you knew who he was this whole time. My grandson. Not some kind of ranch hand.”

“I knew,” she said.

Clever girl. “Well, thank God for that. With Clint admitting he lives with me, I was hoping you didn’t think me a cougar or something.”

The young woman stared at her for long seconds, but then threw back her head and laughed. It was so good to see her let loose. She had a feeling that hadn’t happened in a while. And, my, but she was a handsome thing. No wonder Clint was interested in her, although to be honest, Clint had had plenty of beautiful women throwing themselves at him in the past. Not that Sam had thrown herself at him. Quite the opposite, in fact. It was just strange that her grandson was showing an interest in the girl when he’d just met her.

Strange and encouraging. She’d given up all hope of ever having great-grandchildren.

“I wouldn’t have thought that. Well, maybe I might have,” she said. “But only for about one-point-nine seconds.”

“Well,” Gigi said, “as long as it wasn’t for two seconds, I would have forgiven you.”

It’d been too long since Clint had shown interest in any girl, Gigi thought. Oh, there’d been the odd trip into town. He was, after all, a man. But not since Julia had he been so obvious in his pursuit.

Julia. God. Now there was a woman she’d been glad to see the last of.

She can bunk down next to me.

Gigi just bet her grandson would like that.

“It’s a beautiful house,” Sam said, stopping yet again and gazing up at it.

She loved horses. She’d be perfect for Clint.

“It’s been in my family for a long, long time,” Gigi said.

But she was from the city and so that might be a problem. It’d been a problem with Julia. And that made Clint’s interest in Sam all the more strange. Gigi would have thought after Julia he’d give a woman like Sam a wide berth.

“That’s right,” Sam said. “Your family settled this land in the early eighteen-hundreds.”

Maybe he was just flirting with her. Maybe that’s all this was.

“We were one of the first families to live in Montana,” she said. “That’s how we ended up with so much acreage.”

“Twelve thousand acres.”

“No, dear,” Eugenia said. “That’s just this parcel here.” She motioned to the land around them. “We own another hundred thousand to the west there.”

“Really? I only ever read about the twelve thousand acres online.”

She hadn’t known that? Good. At least Gigi wouldn’t have to worry about Sam wanting Clinton for his money…like she had with Julia. It was obvious Sam had been attracted to her grandson before she’d known what he was worth.

“And another fifty-thousand to the east. We have some smaller parcels in between that.”

“I had no idea,” Sam mused.

“We’re one of the largest landowners in Montana.” She watched the woman’s eyes carefully, looking to see if a glint of something entered them. Maybe greed, or delight, or the conniving machination of a woman after her grandson for what he was worth on paper…which was a lot.

“That’s how you’ve kept the horses a secret all these years, isn’t it?” she asked.

So far, so good. The girl didn’t seem the least little bit gleeful.

“We move them around a lot,” Gigi admitted, “which is why they’re not truly wild. We manage them just like we do the cattle.”

“So they don’t run free in the hills?”

Gigi shook her head. “If we let them to do that they’d quickly reproduce in such numbers that they’d become a problem. So we selectively allow them to breed.”

“Oh,” she said, disappointed.

“But they run free on a lot of land,” Gigi added.

“I see.”

One of the first questions out of Julia’s mouth was exactly how many acres did they own.