"Good.Because Montana ground is harder than Wyoming dirt."
I stopped a few feet from the rail and Rio pressed his nose against my shoulder."When can I start?"
"Tomorrow morning.Six sharp."Dawson pushed off the fence and opened the gate."I'll have three horses ready for you to evaluate.You pick one and we'll work out a rotation schedule."
"Three?"I raised an eyebrow."I only need one."
"You need a backup in case your first choice goes lame or gets pulled for rodeo prep.And you need options so you're not wearing out the same animal every day."He stepped aside to let me pass."Like I said, we’re doing this my way."
"Fair enough."I led Rio through the gate.As I passed Dawson, our shoulders brushed.I was close enough to catch the scent of fabric softener mixed with something woodsy and masculine.I took in a deep breath.Goosebumps broke out on my arms.
It was nothing.Just a long dry spell coupled with meeting a man who had the kind of understated confidence that had always been my downfall.I was a sucker for cowboys, especially the ones who surrounded themselves with tall walls.But not this time.I might appreciate the way the man filled out a pair of jeans, the hard set of his jaw, and the guarded look in his beautiful blue eyes, but I couldn’t screw this up.Not if I wanted to get my horse back.
We walked Rio back into the barn in silence.I brushed him down while Dawson checked the water buckets in the stalls nearby.When I finished, he took the lead rope and returned the gelding to his stall himself.
"You handled him well."Dawson latched the stall door and turned."A lot of trick riders I've seen treat their stock like props."
"Yeah, well, most trick riders probably haven't invested years of their life training the perfect horse to have it stolen by a promoter who thinks contract fine print matters more than partnership.”I shook my head, wishing I’d had the sense to keep my mouth shut.This man didn’t need to know about my problems.
Dawson's expression shifted.Something hard and guarded slid into place."Is that what happened in Wyoming?"
"Among other things."I pulled my gloves from my coat pocket and headed for the barn doors."But like I said, I'm not here for charity or sympathy.I'm here to work."
"Good because I’m short on both."The edge in his voice told me he meant it.
Outside, the wind had picked up, and the sky had turned the kind of gray that promised more snow.I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets and started toward my truck.
"Have you got a place to stay?"Dawson called out to my back.
I turned around.He stood in the barn doorway, backlit by the dim glow of overhead lights.
"I’ll get a room at that motel outside town.The one off the highway."
Dawson grunted."That place is a dump.You can stay at the house."
I blinked."Excuse me?"
"I'd offer the bunkhouse, but I’ve got a few ranch hands staying down there, and I don't want you to have to share space with them."He shrugged like the offer cost him nothing."The main house has plenty of room."
"If you're sure it's no problem."I hadn't expected the offer of a place to stay, especially after his comment about being short on charity, but was more than willing to take him up on it.I needed to save every penny I could to put toward lawyer fees.
Dawson crossed his arms and leaned against the wall."I've got a few ground rules we ought to cover."
Figured.This man seriously needed to loosen up.I rolled my eyes and played along."Like what?”
"Like you stay out of my way.You can use the guest bath down the hall.The kitchen's fair game but clean up after yourself."
"Anything else, boss?"
His jaw ticked."I'm up at four-thirty.I don't do small talk before coffee.And I don't do houseguests who think sharing space means we're friends."
I took a step closer."Funny.I don't remember asking to be your friend."
"Good.Because I'm not offering."
"Then why invite me in at all?"I cocked my head, studying the hard set of his mouth and the way his shoulders stayed tight."You strike me as the type of man who likes his space."
"I am."
