The Rock Creek Ranch horses are good stock. They’re nervous, jittery and more than a little neglected, but they’restrong. They just need a little care and attention. Exactly the type of attention I plan on giving them.
That is, if I can convince their grouchy old cowboy of an owner that I know what I’m doing.
Wyatt Thorne.
Even his name sounds cranky.
He’s been following me and watching me all morning. Leaning against the stall doors with those tree trunk arms of his folded across his chest. Quiet but assessing. Judging me to see if I measure up and am worthy to take care of his horses.
Worthy or not, I’m all he’s got. Uncle Randy said that hell would have to freeze over before he’d set foot on this ranch again. Something about being shot at.
But that was Bill Thorne.
And while I could easily see the resemblance between the stubborn, mule of a man my uncle talked about, Wyatt isn’t his father. I’m worried about being shot at.
At least not yet.
Wyatt is clearly not the type of man who wastes words. Probably because he doesn’t need to. He’d communicated plenty with simply a look or two from those dark, brooding eyes.
And Lord help me, I’ve been acutely aware of him the entire time.
As much as I’ve tried to ignore him, it’s impossible.
It’s also ridiculous. I’ve been around plenty of cowboys. But Wyatt? There’s something about him that’s different. All hard lines and authority. He’s the kind of man who takes up space without even trying. The kind of man you can’t ignore.
When I first saw him this morning, standing in that dusty shaft of sunlight, I’d almost forgotten why I was here in the first place. My heart stuttered in my chest, and my mouth went dry as if I were a teenage girl, instead of a fully grown twenty-five-year-old woman. And when he looked at me. I mean,reallylooked at me. I felt his gaze all the way to my toes.
It’s not ideal to be lusting after the boss when trying to look like a competent professional on my very first major job.
“Everything looks pretty good,” I say finally, dusting my hands off on my jeans and jotting down the last few notes in my notebook.
Wyatt grunts.
“There’s room for improvement,” I add. “A few of your mares are underweight and they’re all at risk of lameness if they’re not exercised properly. I’d say that a few of the older horses, like Blueberry might need to be watched a little closer. But all in all, considering…well, they’re looking pretty good.”
“Considering what?”
My smile falters a little. I don’t know much about the history of Rock Creek Ranch, only the little my uncle shared with me and the gossip around town. But I know enough to know that operations have been going downhill for quite some time, and the reputation of the ranch and the Thorne family wasn’t a good one.
“Considering they haven’t had any veterinary care,” I finish smoothly and meet Wyatt’s eyes. “I hope that will change now,” I continue. “Especially for Oatmeal. She’s close. Maybe only a day or two, a week at the outset. It’s extra important now to keep her calm and warm. Fresh water and easy feed.”
“I know how to handle a foaling, Miss Milligan.”
I can’t help but notice he doesn’t refer to me as Doctor.
“I’m sure you do.” I keep my voice light, unwavering. I won’t let him get to me. “But I’m equally sure that you have your hands full here. I’m just covering all the bases.”
He lifts an eyebrow and tilts his head so his hat casts a deep shadow over his face. Something about the small gesture makes my pulse trip. “You sure talk a lot.”
“Occupational hazard,” I fire back before I can stop myself. “Animals don’t usually tell me what’s wrong, so I’ve gotten pretty used to filling the silence.”
That earns me something dangerously close to a smile. Just the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth, gone as soon as it appears. But I see it, and it makes my stomach flip in a way that is decidedly not professional.
“Well, you don’t seem to have any trouble filling it,” he says, pushing off away from the barn wall.
I should move. Or speak. Or breathe.
But now that the work is done, my body seems to have forgotten how to function on the most basic level. All I can do is stand here, my heartbeat loud in my ears as his shadow stretches over mine.
