We still had plenty of time, but it wouldn’t do any good to argue with Ruby.Everyone in Mustang Mountain learned that for themselves at one point.“I’ll have them.”
“I know you will.That's not why I'm calling.”
I set the bucket down and straightened, wiping my hands on my jeans.“What do you need?”
“I've got someone passing through town.A trick rider who’s looking for temporary stock access while prepping for her next circuit.”
I frowned.“Ruby?—”
“Before you say no, hear me out.She's professional, she's got her own rig, and she's not going to get in your way.She just needs a safe place to work and a few reliable horses.”
“I'm running a training schedule.I don't have time to babysit a performer.”
“I'm not asking you to babysit.I'm asking you to let her use your arena and maybe lend her a horse or two if she needs it.She'll work around your schedule.”
I leaned against the stall door, considering.It wasn't that I minded helping someone out.Ruby wouldn't ask if it wasn't important.But I didn’t like taking on more than I could handle and I was already pushing myself past my limit.
“How long?”I asked.
“A few weeks.Maybe a month, depending on how her training goes.”
“Ruby.”
“Dawson.”Her tone shifted, losing the teasing edge.“I wouldn't ask if I didn't think it'd be fine.She's good.Really good.And honestly, having her around might not be the worst thing.You could use the reminder that other people exist.”
“I see people.”
“Slade and your horses don't count.”
I exhaled through my nose, a slow, controlled breath.Ruby had a way of making reasonable points that were also deeply annoying.“When's she coming?”
“Today.This morning, actually.I told her you'd be around.”
“You told her—” I bit back the rest of the sentence.There was no point.Ruby had already decided, and I'd already lost.“Fine.But if she disrupts my schedule, she's out.”
“She won't.Thanks, Dawson.I owe you.”
“Yeah, you do.”
She hung up before I could say anything else.
I shoved the phone back in my pocket and finished the feeding, my mind already running through the adjustments I'd need to make.Another person on the property meant another set of variables—equipment, timing, space.It wasn't insurmountable, but it was one more thing to manage.
I told myself that was why I was irritated.That it had nothing to do with the thought of having a woman around.
By mid-morning, I'd worked two more broncs and repaired a section of fence that had come loose during the last storm.The sky was clear now, bright and cold, and the ranch had settled into its usual rhythm.I was checking the hinge on the arena gate when I heard the sound of tires on gravel.
I straightened, wiping my hands on my jeans, and turned toward the drive.
A white pickup truck rolled into view, pulling a modest two-horse trailer behind.It wasn't flashy or full of sponsorship decals.Just the kind of rig someone used for work, not show.
The truck slowed, then stopped near the barn.I waited, my attention narrowing to the driver's side door.
When it finally opened, a woman stepped out.I took one look at her, and all the air got sucked out of my lungs.
She had the kind of curves that made a man forget what he’d been doing two seconds earlier.Dark hair spilled loosely down her back, catching the light, and she wore jeans that looked like they’d been broken in the hard way.Her boots were scuffed, her jacket zipped halfway, and she moved like she was comfortable in her body instead of trying to manage it.
She shut the truck door and leaned back against it for a second, scanning the ranch like she was taking inventory.Her gaze landed on me and stuck.
