by Marin Thomas
His focus on the stallion, Matt entered the corral. SOS tensed, but didn’t shy away when Matt closed the distance between them. The mares were beginning to show signs of coming into season. If all went well, Matt assumed the mares would be pregnant by the end of June.
Then he’d leave the Broken Wheel and Amy and the girls behind. If he hadn’t already blown most of his savings on the mares he’d offer to take SOS off her hands and save Amy the trouble of finding a buyer. He’d have to call in a few favors with his rodeo buddies and see if any of the guys knew a rancher who might be interested in the stud. The sooner the animal was gone from the property the sooner Amy’s clients would return to board their horses at the farm.
When Matt drew within ten feet of the stallion, he veered away and stopped next to the saddle he’d draped over the top of the corral earlier in the day. He’d hoped SOS would wander over to investigate the tack. Matt made as much noise as possible, handling the buckles and the cinch. After five minutes SOS wandered closer. Matt held his ground.
“Mr. Matt, can you hear me?” Rose’s voice squawked through the walkie-talkie. SOS reared and Matt scrambled to avoid the horse’s hooves. Then the stallion bolted to the opposite end of the corral. Matt adjusted the volume lower on the handset. “What’s the problem?”
“We’re bored.”
He rubbed his brow, feeling a banger of a headache coming on. “Why don’t you play with your dolls?”
“Wait a minute.” Rose forgot to release the button and he heard her ask, “Lily, do you want to play dolls?”
“No,” Lily shouted.
“Mr. Matt, can you hear me?”
Once she released the button, he answered. “Yes, I can hear you, Rose.”
“Lily doesn’t want to play dolls.”
“How about coloring?” Amy kept a large coffee can filled with crayons on the kitchen counter.
“How long do we have to color for?” Rose asked.
He’d better cut short his time with the stallion. Once the girls became accustomed to the new setup, he’d be able to work for longer periods of time. “Color for thirty minutes.”
“Okay, bye.”
He let out a deep breath, then carried the saddle toward SOS. The stallion trotted away. Matt repeated the drill five times—advancing on the stud with saddle in hand—before SOS stood his ground and didn’t run.
“Hey, cowboy.” A sultry voice reached Matt’s ear. “This is magic fingers, over.”
Matt noticed a small, compact car parked in front of the house. Caught up in working with the horse he hadn’t heard the vehicle approach. Why hadn’t Rose rung the bell to warn him they had a visitor?
“How about you come on up to the house for a chitchat? Over.”
He searched the porch area and found a redhead sitting on the swing between the girls.
Damn it. He didn’t have time for a chitchat. “Be right there,” he grumbled into the handset. He placed the saddle aside and left the corral. “Can I help you?” he asked, stopping outside the safety fence.
The redhead spoke into the walkie-talkie even though she’d heard him just fine. “I’m Chrissy. Over.” Matt frowned and she set the walkie-talkie aside. “I own the Snappy Scissors Hair Salon in town.”
The hairdresser wore more makeup than a rodeo clown. “Amy’s not here.”
“I know. She’s at class.” The woman winked. “Decided to drop by and offer my help with the girls.”
He wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Thanks. The girls are hungry. Maybe you can feed them.” He’d taken three steps when she protested.
“Oh, I can’t stay that long!”
Figured as much.
The woman crossed the porch, her eyes glued to Matt’s chest. He was glad he’d kept his shirt on this afternoon. He didn’t mind Amy’s eyes devouring him, but the redhead’s leer made him uncomfortable. “I stopped by to invite you to bring the girls into town for a complimentary haircut.”
“Amy should really be the one to—”
“Amy hasn’t been to my salon since before Christmas.” Chrissy sashayed down the steps. “She doesn’t have the money to pay for the girls’ haircuts. I’d like to surprise her.”
The hairdresser glanced away, convincing Matt that the free-haircut offer had nothing to do with helping Amy and everything to do with getting him into her salon.
“Rose and Lily, you want new hairdos?” Chrissy called over her shoulder.
Lily clapped her hands. “New do! New do!”
Rose ran over to the fence. “Can we, Mr. Matt? Chrissy paints my fingernails when I get a haircut.”
“Not right now, Rose. I’m busy.” He didn’t appreciate the hairdresser using the kids to get her way.
“C’mon, Mr. Matt,” the woman purred, batting her eyelashes. “I promise a trim won’t take long.”
“Please, Mr. Matt. Please,” Rose begged.
He was no match for the little girl’s pleading eyes and praying hands. “I’ll bring the girls by after supper.”
Chrissy flashed a smile. “Great. See you then.” She waltzed up the porch steps and straight into the house, then exited through the front door and sauntered to her car, her hips swinging.
God help him—couldn’t a cowboy train a horse without females interfering?
DRAT.
Amy stood next to pump four at the Gas Depot on the outskirts of Pebble Creek, filling her tank when the town busybody spotted her and waved.
“Hello, Amy.” Francine Willington bypassed her black 1975 Oldsmobile Delta convertible and headed in Amy’s direction. The woman’s steel-gray bob hugged her head like a leather football helmet from the olden days.
Amy’s fingers squeezed the trigger tighter, forcing the fuel to flow faster into the gas tank. “Buying lottery tickets?” she asked.
“Have them right here.” A blue-veined hand waved the proof in the air. The seventy-year-old widow lived in constant fear of becoming destitute. Not even the three million dollars her husband left her when he’d died a few years ago was enough to ease Francine’s fears, so she spent a hundred dollars a month on Quick Picks. Kooky old woman.
“I must say, Amy, I never expected you to move on so soon after Ben died.”
Excuse me?
Francine lowered her voice and leaned forward. “I don’t blame you though. If a man as handsome as that cowboy had come along before Harold had died—” the widow snapped her fingers “—I would have snatched him right up.” She winked. “Rich men can be a bit boring, you know.”
Oh, brother. “Where did you meet Matt?”
“I stopped in at the Snappy Scissors to make a hair appointment a few minutes ago and your cowboy and the girls were getting haircuts.”
Chrissy…darn her. Jealousy zapped Amy and she glanced at her hand, surprised her fingers hadn’t let off sparks. Why was she shocked Matt had fallen under Chrissy’s spell? Because this morning he’d said…“a man like Matt does want.” Fickle cowboy.
Most rodeo cowboys had their pick of gorgeous women. The day she’d met Ben, a dozen flirty females had been buzzing around him. Matt was twice as handsome and ten times more successful than her husband had been. Still…Matt had given Amy the impression he was interested in her.
The pump clicked off and she stowed the handle. “I’ve gotta run, Francine. Have a good day.” She skirted the old woman, glancing inside the convertible as she walked past. Sitting in the drink holder was Francine’s favorite beer—a bottle of Budweiser. Someone really ought to take the woman’s car keys away. Amy paid for the gas inside the store, then returned to her truck, intent on dropping by the beauty salon. Someone—her—needed to make sure Chrissy understood her daughters’ babysitter was off-limits.
Less than two minutes later, the bell above the door announced her arrival when she stepped into the Snappy Scissors.
“Mama!” Lily squealed from her booster seat in a styling chair, where Sara, a part-time stylist, brushed the tangles from her curls.
“We’re getting haircuts. Even Mr. Matt.” Rose pointed to the chair next to her. Annie, the other part-time stylist was trimming Rose’s bangs.
Gathering her courage Amy looked at Matt. Chrissy’s fingers were buried deep in his hair, giving him one of her famous scalp massages for an extra two dollars—only he was likely getting it for free.
“You’re home early. Anything wrong?” Matt closed his eyes and groaned.
Traitor.
Chrissy spun the chair, presenting Amy with Matt’s back. Then the stylist had the audacity to lean forward and smash her Double-D boobs against his shoulder.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Amy said. “The professor had an emergency and class was cut short.” She pulled in a deep breath through her nose, but the extra oxygen did little to calm her frustration. “I skipped a study session with my classmates in order to give you more time to work with SOS. Had I known you’d decided to play beauty parlor this afternoon, I’d have stayed in Rockton.”
Matt shifted toward Amy, but Chrissy flattened her palm against his cheek, keeping his face forward. “Quit wiggling.”
Sara and Annie pretended to fuss with the girls’ hair, but Amy wasn’t fooled. The two women eavesdropped on every word. They probably hadn’t seen their boss tussle over a man in ages.
The fact that Amy even considered tussling over Matt convinced her that she’d lost her mind. Cowboys were nothing but trouble.
“Amy.” Chrissy motioned to the magazine rack in the waiting area. “Check out the article on makeovers in the Glamour magazine.”
Ha. Ha. The former rodeo queen’s insult didn’t bother her in the least. Amy was well aware of her unremarkable appearance. What hurt was having her faults pointed out in front of Matt. That she wanted him to find her attractive and desirable convinced her she was headed for heartbreak. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Hadn’t she already decided she’d never depend on a man again? The closer she became to Matt the more she’d be tempted to lean on him—then where would she be when he cut out on her? No ifs, ands or buts about it—becoming involved with the cowboy would eventually leave her with scars deeper than Hells Canyon.
Amy took a seat in the waiting area and glowered at Chrissy, who continued to massage Matt’s head. If the beautician rubbed much harder his scalp would peel off. When Sara and Annie finished with the girls they handed out lollipops. Amy approached the register, swallowing a groan at having to use the last of her gas money to pay for haircuts.
“Put your wallet away,” Chrissy demanded. “The cuts are complimentary.” She winked. “You three mosey along. Matt’s going to be here a while longer.”
“Let’s go, girls.” She ushered them to the door, worried if she didn’t leave she’d grab a pair of scissors and gouge Chrissy’s eyes out.
“Wait, Amy.” Matt tossed his truck keys across the room and she caught them in midair. “The car seat,” he reminded her.
Without another word, she and the girls departed. As they walked around the side of the building to the parking lot, Amy’s attempt to talk herself into feeling bad about not thanking Chrissy for the girls’ cuts bombed. The hairdresser’s graciousness had been stained by ulterior motive. Chrissy wanted Matt and wasn’t above using Rose and Lily to achieve her goal.
Until this moment Amy had never believed herself the jealous type. Not even the few times she’d accompanied Ben to a rodeo and had witnessed the scantily clad groupies flirting with him had she been this envious. The sudden attack of the green monster worried her. “Nuts.”
“What’s nuts?” Rose asked.
“Nothing, honey.” Hormones. Blaming her chaotic feelings on a sudden spike in her estrogen level was safer than contemplating the possibility that she was falling in love with the cowboy camping out in her barn. Her attraction to Matt was purely physical, not emotional.
Yeah, right.
“Mama.” Rose tugged Amy’s hand.
Amy hadn’t realized she’d stopped walking. “Where did Mr. Matt park?” She shielded her eyes against the bright sun and scanned the vehicles in the lot.
Rose pointed to the far corner.
When they reached the truck, Amy balked. Pride demanded she go home to show Matt she could give a flip what he did with the hairdresser. Jealousy, fueled by estrogen, insisted she remain and remind the cowboy that she had first dibs on him.
Before she came to a decision, Matt materialized. He glanced at the key fob in her hand. Rose shrugged her slim shoulders as if to say she had no idea why her mother had been staring into space.
Matt covered Amy’s hand with his and bleeped the truck locks open. “Do you want me to take the girls or transfer the car seat to your truck?”
Her skin prickled at the sound of his voice. Lord, she had it bad. “You didn’t get your haircut.”
“Didn’t want one.”
Did that mean he worried about her feelings? “I guess the girls can ride with you,” she said.
“Big girls first.” He lifted Rose into the truck, then deposited Lily in the car seat.
While he buckled the girls in, it occurred to Amy how at ease her daughters had become with Matt. She hadn’t given much thought to how the girls would react when Matt loaded his mares into the horse trailer and drove out of their lives forever. Time to devise a new nanny game plan. She might not be able to protect her heart from Matt, but she had to do everything in her power to save the girls from suffering a similar heartache.
“Shit, Ro.”
Amy gasped.
Matt slammed the truck door, a stunned expression on his face.
“Did you hear that?” she asked.
“Hear what?”
“Lily said a swear word.”
“You must have misheard,” Matt insisted.
“I didn’t mishear anything. Lily said S-H-I-T.” Amy squinted. “I wonder who she heard that from?”
“Forget the swear word.” Matt paused in front of her. “Are we going to talk about it? Or are you going to pretend it doesn’t exist?”
“Talk about what?” She tilted her head to make eye contact.
“This.” He leaned in and brushed his lips across hers, then pulled away—too soon.
Her heart stumbled, then regained its balance as she quickly scanned the area, fearing one of the locals had witnessed the kiss. Thank goodness they were alone in the parking lot.
“We’re attracted to each other,” he stated.
She shook her head.
“Deny it all you want, Amy. But it’s there in your eyes.”
Oh, she was in deep horse hockey.
“I know you watch me through the kitchen window.” He moved closer, edging her away from the truck windows where the girls could see. “Why do you think I’ve been working with my shirt off?”
Oh, God.
He flashed a cocky half grin and she locked her knees in hopes of preventing an embarrassing swoon.
“But…but…Chrissy,” she blubbered like an idiot.
“What about her?”
“She wants you, too.” Great. Now he knew Amy was jealous of the beautician.
Blue eyes smoldering, he whispered, “I don’t want Chrissy.”
Amy felt the swoon approaching and clasped his arms for balance. She lifted her face, gulping air as she waited for his mouth…his lips…
“For better or worse…I want you.” He kissed her again, this time his tongue sweeping the inside of her mouth before pulling away. Then he hopped into the truck, revved the engine and left Amy standing in the parking lot with her lips aching for more.
Chapter Nine
Amy awoke Saturday morning around five, swung her feet to the floor, sat up and rubbed her eyes. After years of rising early to tend to horses, she’d yet to reset her body’s internal clock. The past few months she’d replaced barn chores with sipping coffee on the porch swing, watching the sunrise and worrying over bills.
She stretched her arms high above her head, then shoved
herself off the mattress and padded across the hall to the bathroom. Matt’s aftershave and deodorant lingered in the air, their scents strangely comforting—as if he’d been showering and shaving in her bathroom years instead of mere days. In less than five minutes she had her face washed, moisturized and her teeth brushed. The sound of a horse whinny drew her to the window.
Against a canvas of pink sky and misty air, Matt rode SOS around the corral. The cowboy had been true to his word—although it had taken two weeks instead of one—he’d succeeded in riding the stallion.
Which meant…Matt was staying. At least a month. Maybe longer.
And he wants you.
Excitement quickened her pulse. Amy had a decision to make—to sleep or not to sleep with Matt. She closed her eyes and conjured up an image of his naked body. Where men were concerned, Amy hadn’t even driven halfway around the block. Shoot, she’d barely left the driveway and her lack of relationship experience didn’t bode well for her heart.
Blame her blunder with Ben on infatuation. She’d fallen in love with the aura that surrounded rodeo cowboys—their toughness, their swaggers, their killer smiles. And Matt carried off the image far better than Ben had. She was too young to label Matt a midlife crisis. The word fling sounded crass. A summer affair…maybe.
Was she setting herself up for heartbreak? Most definitely. But Matt had been the first man in forever to make her believe everything would be fine—she’d land a good job, reopen her boarding business, pay off her debt and keep the farm.
The stallion trotted in circles and Matt patted the stud’s neck in encouragement. How long would he wait for her to give him a signal that she was ready to make love? No matter that he claimed he wasn’t interested in the local hairdresser, Amy feared if she didn’t make a move soon, Chrissy would change Matt’s mind.
First things first—clothes and coffee. She shimmied into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, then slid her bare feet into sandals. The smell of coffee teased her nose when she reached the first-floor landing. She could become accustomed to having a man around who knew how to brew a decent cup of coffee.
