by Em Petrova
She’d slept in men’s boxer shorts and a tank top, and she’d gotten a few side-eyes as she slipped between the sheets. None from Noble, thank God. If he’d looked her way, she had plenty of smart remarks to pepper him with so he would never dare to glance at her again.
The scent of fresh, hot coffee filled the bunkhouse, and she realized someone had programmed the machines the night before.
Noble sniffed the air. “Whoever put on the coffee already, my nose thanks you.”
“We take turns,” Vin said, slipping on a boot. “Tomorrow’s your turn, Watkins.”
“I’m on it.” Reaching around Gracie, Noble snaked an arm up to the top bunk and pulled down his shirt. She tried to ignore his close proximity as he dressed in a fresh pair of Wranglers and a T-shirt that molded to his lean, fit body. He topped it with a plaid shirt, which he rolled up to his elbows and tucked into his jeans neatly.
The same as her daddy, her brothers and all her cousins did. So why was she interested in watching this man do the same things she’d seen a thousand times?
Her hair was stuffed into a messy bun this morning, and she yanked the elastic band from it, letting the mass fall down her back. When she took up her hairbrush, she found Noble darting glances at her from the corner of his eye as he reached into his footlocker for a neckerchief.
Turning her back on him, she continued to brush her hair and nimbly braided it. She swore she could feel his eyes boring into her back, though.
The coffee mugs were hung on wooden wall pegs over the coffeemakers, and she took one down and filled it.
“Milk in the fridge if ya want,” someone said to her.
“I’ll take it black.” She sipped it and grabbed a banana from a basket on the counter, standing to enjoy her breakfast while the others sat at the table in various degrees of morning consciousness. Some appeared to still be asleep as they brought mugs to their mouths on autopilot.
Then there was Noble, wide-eyed and raring to go.
And the man was wearing a different rodeo belt buckle, from yet another win.
If any of the three men were her competition, it was him. He knew it too. The others had held their own digging along the fence the previous day, but Noble had torn up the land with his shovel, going at it harder and more efficiently than even some of the veteran cowpokes.
He slanted a look at her and caught her staring.
She dropped her gaze to her mug. Damn, the last thing she wanted was for Noble to think she was interested or liked looking at him.
He was handsome in that rugged bad boy way her girlfriends, or even her little sisters, would be drooling over. The muscles on his forearms snaked with hard tendons and veins were alone enough to give them a week’s worth of conversation.
Gracie was much more levelheaded when it came to men. She wasn’t one to have her head turned, though she had plenty of guys chasing after her. How many of her brothers’ buddies had she had to beat back? She’d sharpened her tongue on them and learned to hold men off with a single hard look.
She didn’t have time for getting jerked around by some guy who spouted empty promises. She knew what real men were—she was surrounded by them on a daily basis at home. Most guys couldn’t come close to living up to the Dalton men, so they were a waste of her time.
That didn’t mean she never dated. She liked to go out and even was known to drag a cowboy onto the dance floor at the local bar. But that was where she drew the line.
Her sisters, Jessamine and Keziah, or Kizzy for short, often harassed her about her treatment of men and what her future would be. In their eyes, she’d be the strict old spinster aunt all their offspring would steer clear of and be the butt of the family’s jokes.
Gracie had never been one to dream about wedding dresses or the picket fence and kids playing inside it with the dog. While she wasn’t against having those things in her life, she wasn’t going to search for them either. If it happened, it happened.
Just like this opportunity. She saw the ad for the position on the Blackburn as a chance to do the things she’d loved all her life while trying to figure out what to do with her degree.
Or maybe it was to prove she was a solid addition to the Dalton Ranch, a Jill of all trades, when she eventually took over as the financial manager.
Either way, this was where she was supposed to be, and she was enjoying it so far.
With her coffee mug empty, her musings were over and she put her mug into the sink.
“Better wash your dishes, girlie,” Vin said from his seat at the head of the table.
“I’ll wash my own,” she responded, turning to the sink. She filled it with water and dish soap, washed out her mug and laid it on the draining board to drip. When a hand reached around her and a mug splashed into the water, shooting soap bubbles up over her shirt, she jerked her head around with a glare.
Noble stood close enough she smelled the mint toothpaste on his breath. From the solemn expression on his face, he wasn’t joking and expected her to wash his mug too.
“Uh-uh, dude. Wash your own.” She slapped the dishcloth against his chest, leaving a wet, soapy splatter on his shirt that matched hers, and strode away. Chuckles followed her out the door.
When they all gathered outside a minute or two later, Vin gave them a group frown. “We got our work cut out for us today. If ya can’t keep up, come right on back here and get your stuff and bug out.”
She was relieved to find he wasn’t looking at her when he said this, but his gaze lingered on Minich a moment.
They set off, fueled by coffee and the long to-do list they all faced. Today they weren’t on fence duty—yet—and she was glad to enter the barn instead. The newcomers hung back while the others chose their favored horses. Gracie had her eye on one in particular, a spirited mare trying to get out of her stall before the door was even opened.
As she began to move toward it, she felt someone matching her steps. A glance up revealed Noble beside her, a determined look crossing his rugged features.
“I hope you don’t plan on taking that horse.”
“Had my eye on her since yesterday.”
“That doesn’t mean you get her.” Gracie surged forward, reaching the stall before he did.
He gave a grunt she was starting to recognize as his usual way of communicating and turned to the next horse. Triumph washed over her as she spoke to the mare and then opened the stall and led her out.
Within minutes, they were friends. The mare’s hide rippled with every stroke of the brush Gracie delivered as she knocked the dust on her coat off in order to saddle her.
Noble was saddled up first, already riding out. She watched him for a second before grabbing a saddle and strapping it into place with quick, efficient movements. In a minute, she was swinging her leg over the horse and on the tail of the other guys.
She had to catch up.
While Vin hadn’t given direction, she caught on quickly that they were driving some of the herd to a feed box. They fanned out, and it was her first test to prove she could work a herd. Vin waved at Minich to close the line tighter and not allow the cows out through the hole between them, and the cowpoke kicked it up to do what was asked.
Maybe she did have to worry about all three men being her competition.
The herd was small, maybe fifty in size. She learned from riding up next to Vin that the cattle were new to the ranch and he was still getting them used to the property. The feed box helped acclimate them.
When the animals reached the box, she looked up to see a white truck already parked at the feed boxes with a blocky man unloading sacks of grain into each one.
“Put on your prettiest smile now, Dalton,” Noble said as he rode up beside her. “You’re about to meet Blackburn’s firstborn.”
Her stomach gave a little tremor of excitement, but only at meeting what was basically ranching royalty. Noble’s words irritated her, though. She wouldn’t stand for him telling her what to do or not do. And just where did her smi
le come into play?
“I wasn’t aware this was a pageant,” she said, guiding her horse past his so close that his mare danced out of the way.
She reached the truck first and dismounted. “Let me help,” she said to the rancher’s son.
He smiled with his whole face, lines reaching up and out like branches of a tree. “’Preciate it.”
She grabbed a sack from the bed of the truck and slung it over her shoulder to carry to the metal trough. When she upended the grain and emptied the sack, Blackburn dumped another into the same box.
“Heard we had a filly workin’ with us now. You’re a Dalton girl, Papa John says.”
“That’s right.” She smiled at him using the name Langtry had particularly demanded nobody use and shook the last of the grains from the sack. “I’m happy to have the opportunity.”
Over Blackburn’s shoulder, she saw Noble’s face loom up. He mouthed, Kiss up, before dropping another sack of grain on the ground.
She felt some heat of anger start to kindle, but she squelched it fast. Losing her cool here would send her packing, and she wasn’t about to let the guys rile her.
Especially Noble.
After their chore was finished, Blackburn stood with Vin for long minutes talking while the rest of them saddled up to wait for their next move. When Vin mounted his horse, Blackburn looked at Gracie and gave a nod.
She answered with a dip of her own head.
“Didn’t take you long to get on his good side.” Noble again. The damn man was determined to throw her off her game and make this a real rivalry. Well, he was in for a fight.
“May the best woman win.” She wheeled her horse around the herd and moved to the other side of the group in time to hear Vin telling them they were heading back to the paddock because the next call of duty was breaking the new horses.
Excitement threaded through Gracie. She loved working with the young, feisty ones. Her brothers said she had a way about her. Justus had called her the horse whisperer on more than one occasion, and she couldn’t wait to get in there and start with Blackburn horses.
Okay, maybe she wanted to show off a little bit too. She doubted the other three guys had the gentle yet demanding touch she had when it came to breaking horses.
* * * * *
Noble had a definite advantage in this game. After spending an entire summer on the neighbor’s ranch helping them break their horses, he was confident he knew exactly what he was doing.
The guys all leaned against the fence of the circular training ring while Vin broke one of the new geldings off from the rest of the pack and chased it into the ring. A veteran cowpoke hurried to close the gate behind it, and the small black horse took off running the perimeter, looking for a way out.
“Let’s make Langtry proud when he returns from auction. Which one o’ you guys wants to get in here and show the greenhorns how it’s done?” Vin called out.
Though he was lumped into the greenhorn category, Noble shimmied up the fence and hooked a leg over the top. “I’ll do it.”
Laughter followed. Vin eyed him up. “Sure you’re not slipping on boots too big for ya, Watkins?”
“I’m sure.” He jumped to the ground inside the ring. Vin opened a gate and then stood just inside in case he needed to step in.
“Wait a minute. There’s still a water trough in here from before training. You guys forgot to get it out,” Vin called.
Noble turned to look at the trough against one side, out of the way but still posing a danger to the horses being trained if one ran into it.
“Want me to shoo the horse back out and we’ll move it, Vin?” Noble asked.
He assessed the situation a moment. “I think it’s far enough out of the way. Let’s see how it goes.”
Noble gave a nod and then concentrated on his task and not on the people standing at the fence just waiting for him to screw up. He especially refused to look up at Gracie and see the smug expectation on her face.
He unhooked the coiled rope on his belt and gathered it into his palm. Tossing the lasso came as second nature—like riding a bike. He’d spent so many childhood summers practicing just that on anything stationary or moving. Hell, he’d even roped his dog a time or two before he caught hell from his dad.
“Look at him—he’s grinnin’ like he knows somethin’ we don’t,” a guy said to the amusement of everyone else.
“He probably knows he’s in over his head,” another said.
He made the toss. The rope slipped off the first time and hit the dust. Chuckles filled his ears as he gathered the rope back into his hand.
So he might be a bit rusty, but he wouldn’t miss a second time.
When the rope landed square over the horse’s head, Noble hurried to tighten it. He moved to the center of the ring, allowing the animal to get used to feeling the weight of a rope on it. If they were going to bridle it or saddle it, the thing had a lot to learn, but it wouldn’t take long, in his experience. Horses were bright and quickly adapted.
It took off in a series of bucks that had them all rocking with laughter, but Noble stunned them all silent when he edged closer and extended a hand to the gelding. It eyed him with caution and severe distrust, but after a minute or two, allowed Noble a step closer.
When he got too near, it went wild again, romping around like a frisky puppy, trying to slip the rope and take off for greener pastures.
One thing Noble’d learned that summer of breaking horses was they didn’t mind being tamed once they understood what was happening. Before that, everything scared them.
All he had to do was show it who was boss and what its path was, and everything else would fall into place.
As the gelding trotted in a circle around him, tethered to him standing in the center of the ring, he slowly shortened the rope until the horse was close enough to reach out and touch. He brushed his fingers over its side, and it rushed away from him the first time.
But by the tenth, it had grown accustomed to feeling the brush of his fingertips on its coat on its way past. A small cheer went up from the guys on the fence.
He shot a grin their way and found Gracie’s glare bearing down on him.
She probably thought she could do better. In his opinion, she was trying too hard. Proving she was worthy of the work was one thing, but somehow, she’d taken up a women’s rights cause as well.
He didn’t mind some healthy competition, though, and if she wanted to make it men vs. women, then so be it.
The gelding drew to a stop, tuckered out from its constant running. Seeing his chance, Noble inched up to it, hand out. Now, it was no longer afraid of his hand and when he flattened his palm over its side and gave it a stroke, applause broke out.
The sound sent the horse running again, but Noble had proven himself. He looked right at Gracie and tipped his hat to her.
Her pretty mouth twisted in a scowl, and she jumped off the fence into the ring at the same time Timms did.
“Timms is next,” Vin called out to them. “Dalton, you get the gelding back in his pen and drive another in. Watkins, give her a hand.”
Her shoulders drew back at Noble’s name, and she wheeled around and strode away from the fence. A moment later, she was on one of the old riding horses, moving to separate a young horse from the others while Noble moved to close the gates so they couldn’t escape.
She didn’t give him a single glance or word of thanks, only dismounted and returned to the fence again.
Noble steered clear of her—he was no dummy when it came to a fuming woman and knew enough that a closed mouth was the best kind of mouth there was till she cooled off.
Trouble was, Dalton didn’t seem to be cooling off anytime soon. She was taking this all too seriously, including herself.
They all watched Timms for a while, and he didn’t seem to get far with the horse. After Vin called out for him to give the horse a break for the day, Gracie jumped back into the ring.
She looked at Noble. “I’m ready for
my horse.”
He stared at her for a moment.
“Will you separate one for me?”
“I’m waitin’ for the magic word,” he drawled, to the answering laughs of the others.
“Please.” She batted her lashes in an exaggerated manner, which had the guys laughing harder.
“She knows how to bust a guy’s balls, doesn’t she?” Minich called out.
“Since ya asked so nice.” Noble turned for the pens where the young horses were all kept and soon separated one out. As soon as he let it loose, he knew this was a feisty one. It was kicking up its hind legs without anybody even putting a rope to it.
Biting off a smile, Noble nodded to Minich to open the gate. He did, and the animal blasted into the ring. From horseback, Noble could see everything as it went down.
Gracie tried to jump out of the way and at the same time gain control. The water trough full to the brim stood not far off. The young horse kicked out, and Gracie attempted to lasso it but lost her footing as she tried to dance clear of its path.
She fell backward in what felt like slow motion to Noble. His breath caught in his throat as her backside hit the water. Then time seemed to speed up to normal again, and she was submersed.
Her hat fell off and started to sink. He thought to jump forward and grab it, because a man’s—or woman’s—hat was everything.
Then he remembered how she glared at him or sassed him anytime he’d tried to help her. Don’t waste your time.
He folded his arms and looked on as she floundered up from the trough and stumbled to her feet. Snorts of laughter filled his ears as the guys watched her stagger back, dripping wet, for the bunkhouse.
She shook it out and whirled on them. The sight of her soaking curves, jeans and top molded to her body everywhere, grabbed Noble by the guts and twisted.
He pushed out a breath.
Hell, she was gorgeous. There was no mistaking she was all woman, and a damn hot one at that.
She caught him gawking and sent him a glare.
“Damn, boy, she just gave you a look to melt your balls,” Minich commented.
They were all staring, but she was choosing him to direct her anger at. If it made things easier for her, he’d take the blame for all of them finding amusement in her situation.
