Kissed by a Cowboy

She received an image of long spurs and sweat-soaked sides. Of an evil-looking spade bit and a dusty arena. His owner had ridden the socks off him last night.

Poor baby.

The horse lifted its head, nodding as if in silent agreement.

“What are you doing?”

Jillian’s eyes popped open. She wasn’t normally so obvious, especially in front of men.

“Ahh. Nothing. Piece of sawdust in my eyes.”

He turned to face her again. Beneath the overhang of a stall he seemed all the more imposing. He wore cowboy hats low on his brow, she noticed, not that it mattered how he wore them, because he was a big man and he probably could have covered his nose and still seen the world.

“You okay?”

She looked down at Wes’s feet, at the dog that faithfully sat by his side. Your human is very handsome.

The dog wagged his tail, the soft hairs brushing the ground and kicking up dirt.

And he probably knows it, too.

“Fine.” She nodded toward the horse. “See how quiet he is?”

“Well, yeah, I don’t need a sixth sense to know why that is. Clearly someone rode him pretty hard today. Look at the marks by his girth.”

She leaned in, then immediately drew back. How had she missed that? She could see where the skin was raised beneath the hide. Horizontal lines and one diagonal line intersected right about where a spur would rest. She would bet if she examined the gelding up close, she’d find broken skin.

“You have to buy him.”

Cowboy whined as if trying to urge his master to do as she suggested, but she could tell Wes wasn’t convinced.

“And why should I do that?”

“Look at him. Nice head, and with that short back, he ought to be pretty handy. He’s flashy, too, with those four white socks and half-white head. And smart. You can tell by looking in his eyes.”

“I don’t like four white feet. Their hooves are horrible. Too brittle.” Their gazes connected. “Sorry—I probably should have told you that before you started scouting prospects.”

“You don’t even want to see him work? Because of his feet?”

“I’m saying no because he’s reining bred, too. He even looks like a reiner.”

“Would you refuse to date a woman because she came from the wrong bloodlines?”

She had no idea where the question came from, except maybe she was trying to give herself one more reason to stop thinking about the breadth of his shoulders. Normally, she would never push a client toward something they didn’t want, but she enjoyed the way his eyes widened beneath his black hat. She could practically hear the thoughts going through his head.

Should I answer that? Maybe I shouldn’t. Lord, that’s a loaded question.

She almost laughed.

“I guess it would depend on the woman.”

“How about a woman who’s short, a little bit overweight, but who makes you laugh. Would you say no to that?”

Why was she pushing him?

“Well, I can overlook a lot of things if someone can cook.” He smiled. She looked away. “How’s your cooking?”

“I can’t boil an egg,” she lied.

She thought she heard him laugh. And she could have sworn he softly said, “Liar.”

Okay, so she was a great cook, but she wasn’t going to let the conversation flow into territory she’d rather avoid.

Arm’s length, she reminded herself.

She’d agreed to help him because of CEASE, because what they needed, what they had always needed, was a wealthy sponsor to help fund their organization. With financial backing they could get the word out, tell more people about the plight of unwanted racehorses. Not just racehorses but all horses. His mother might be just the ticket.

“Seriously, Wes, you shouldn’t turn up your nose at something because it’s different from what you want. Plenty of good reining horses have made good cutting horses—and vice versa.”

Was she speaking to herself? Or him?

When she felt his gaze fall upon her, she dared to look up at him.

“That sounded personal.”

It had been, and she had no idea why she’d said it, not after warning herself off.

“No. Not at all. I just think you should give him a try.”

He went back to peering at the horse in the stall. So did she. Inside, the gelding swished his tail.

“He’s young,” Jillian added. “He’ll do some growing over the next couple of years.”

She felt something cold and wet touch her hand. When she glanced down, Cowboy stared up at her.

Maybe you can talk some sense into him.

More tail wagging.

“Okay, fine. I’ll watch him perform today.”

“Really?”

He nodded.

She didn’t know why she did it, didn’t have a clue what prompted her, but suddenly she hugged him. She felt so strongly about the gelding in the stall it took her breath away. She didn’t pretend to be psychic. She just had a feeling they’d be a perfect match.

“Wow.” He drew back. “If I’d known that’d be your reaction, I’d have said yes ten minutes ago.”