The morning rush was in full flood when Wes came into the bakery around eight. She didn’t wait on him, thank goodness. Doug handed him a to-go cup of coffee and Abigail rang that up along with his pastry.
Before he left carrying both items, he called out “’Morning, Ingrid!” and sent a smile in her direction.
“’Morning, Wes!” She ducked her head to hide her blush, but the brief interchange still gave her a lift.
Her upbeat mood lasted through the day. For dinner, she heated up the leftovers from what he’d brought her the night before. His truck hadn’t been in its parking spot when she’d come upstairs so he was probably helping a client. Or over at his dad’s place.
Then her phone pinged with a text message. On my way home. I have something for you if you’ll be around.
That was two nights in a row he’d decided to bring her something. What is it?
A surprise. See you in about 10.
She loved surprises. Always had, ever since she’d been a kid. But this one made her nervous. Ten minutes seemed like twenty. The rhythmic sound of his boots on the stairs was her signal to walk out of her apartment and head him off. Whatever he had planned would be easier to deal with in the hallway.
He stepped around the corner holding a medium-sized produce basket filled with glossy ripe tomatoes—heirlooms judging from the varied colors. When he caught sight of her, his expression brightened. “Hey, there.”
“Is that the surprise?”
“This is it.”
As surprises went, it was a good one. She’d been afraid he was bringing flowers. Or something else that signaled romance. Tomatoes definitely did not. “They’re gorgeous. Where did you get them?”
“I passed a stand on my way home and these were sitting right out front. You’d mentioned tomatoes last night, so I stopped.”
He’d remembered. That was…sweet. “Were they selling them by the basket?”
“No, but I bought it, too, because they were so pretty arranged in it. They seemed startled that I wanted the whole thing.”
“I’ll bet.” He’d probably created quite a stir. “There are a lot here. I assume we’re going to share?”
“I’ll take a couple. My guess is you like them way more than I do, so you can have the rest.”
“Then let me pay for—”
“Nope. My idea. My treat.”
It was a generous impulse. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings by rejecting his gift. “Well, thank you. I’ll give some to Abigail. She loves fresh tomatoes as much as I do.” She took the basket. “Which two do you want?”
“These look good.” He picked out a yellow and a red. “I also wanted to ask you about riding. You said you’d like to go. Are you still interested?”
She blinked. She’d completely forgotten that conversation.
Riding would be wonderful. Other than the trip down Main Street, she hadn’t been on a horse in years. And his attitude tonight was casual and relaxed. He was acting like a good friend. Apparently explaining her situation had accomplished her goal. Which meant she was free to go riding with him. “Sure.”
“How about this Sunday, then? The weather looks good and Pete has to work so Clifford’s available.”
“Sunday sounds great.”
“Then let’s do it. Kendra’s trail rides will be going out, but we’ll just take a different route. Morning or afternoon?”
“Morning, if that works for you.”
“I’ll make sure it does.” His phone chimed. “Whoops. Can you take these back for a sec?” He returned both tomatoes to the basket, pulled his phone from his pocket and put it to his ear. “Hey, Floyd, what’s up?” He frowned. “Yes, sir. I’ll head out, now. See you soon.”
“Problems?”
“A foal that’s not doing well. If you don’t mind putting those two tomatoes in my apartment, I’d—”
“Be glad to.”
“Great. I’ll text once I talk to Kendra about Sunday.”
“Okay.”
“Later.” He touched the brim of his hat and clattered down the stairs.
“Good luck!” she called after him.
“Thanks!”
* * *
Ingrid didn’t see Wes again until he arrived at her door on Sunday morning. His hair was still damp from the shower and the scent of pine drifted in her direction. He stood in the doorway with his hat in one hand and a bag of baby carrots in the other,
“Carrots for the horses?”
“Unless you have a hankering for some.”
She laughed. “Not really.”
“Then looks like the horses get ‘em.”
“I’m sure they’ll love that.” She stepped back from the door. “Come on in. I’ll get my hat. I didn’t want to put it on until I saw the whites of your eyes.”
He pulled a long face. “You doubted me? You cut me to the quick.”
“Oh, I didn’t doubt that you wanted to be here, but you could have had an emergency, or you could have been so exhausted you overslept.”
“I did oversleep,” he called after her. “I need to come up with a better alarm on my phone. Fortunately, I’m a ninja at getting ready fast.”
“I’m sure that comes in handy,” she replied as she pulled her hair through the hole in the back of her Guzzling Grizzly baseball cap that matched her black t-shirt. Then she shoved money in her pocket in case they stopped to eat later. No need to take a key.
He gestured toward the open door with his hat. “After you.”
As they walked down the hall, she glanced at him. “I decided not to bring my phone. Do you have yours?”
“Always.”
“What if a client calls you while we’re on the ride?”
“That shouldn’t happen.” He followed her down the stairs. “I put a message on my phone directing any emergency calls to the equine clinic in Three Forks. They can field anything major that comes in this morning.”
“Good thinking. I’m glad you set that up.”
“I had to, for this ride and for the future. Otherwise, I’d be forever chained to my phone and vehicle. It’s less than an hour to Three Forks. Until I set up my practice, the clinic there was the closest option for folks in Eagles Nest. My clients love having me nearby and on call twenty-four-seven, but…”
“That’s not sustainable.”
“You know, it might be once the first flurry of excitement dies down and everyone gets to know me.” They stepped into bright sunshine and he settled his hat on his head. “Some have admitted they called me out to their place to size me up and make sure I’d do.”
“Like a trial run?”
“Kind of.” He pushed the button on his keychain to unlock the doors on his black pickup. “They generally ask about some minor thing that will likely get better on its own. They know it and I know it. When I confirm that we should just let it be and I only charge them the minimum, I pass the test.” He opened the passenger door and helped her in.
Coming around to the driver’s side, he tucked the bag of carrots behind the seat before he climbed in. The truck’s cab became an intimate space, indeed.
“Want the windows up or down?”
“Down, please. It’s a beautiful day.” And she might be less aware of the clean, masculine scent she found so appealing.
“It’s a gorgeous day.” After powering down the windows, he backed out of the parking space and drove through town, passing the Guzzling Grizzly on the way. “Every time I go by the GG I think of the night back in March when we were there with Roxanne and everyone helped invent the Guzzling Grizzly shooter.”
She laughed. “That was a wild night.”
“Last time I was in there I forgot to look and see if it was still on the menu.”
“Probably is, but I can’t say for sure. Professional bakers make lousy party animals.”
“So do equine vets. I keep thinking I’ll pop in on a Friday or Saturday evening for drinks and dancing, but emergencies seem to happen on the weekend for
some reason.”
“How’s that foal, the one you were going off to see on Friday night?”
“He’ll be fine. I checked in with them this morning so they’d know I’ll be out of touch.”
“That was nice.”
“They’re sweet people. The mare had a difficult pregnancy and so they were worried that the foal would end up with issues. He didn’t, but whenever he so much as sneezed, they started to panic. Having me there to monitor the situation for a few hours Friday night made them feel better.”
“Like a warm blankie.”
“Guess so. Sometimes that’s the biggest part of the job. And the scariest, in some ways. I’ve been trained in veterinarian medicine, but I’m not a magician. I try to tell folks that, but I’m not sure they hear me.”
“Because they don’t want to. They want to believe you’ll ride in and save the day, like the Lone Ranger.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, right.”
“You need a mask.”
“When I was a kid I had one.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s funny that you mentioned the Lone Ranger. That’s who I wanted to be when I grew up. I begged Dad to get a white horse, which he wasn’t about to do. I talked Roxanne into dressing up as Tonto one Halloween.”
“I’ll bet you were a cute little devil in your mask and white hat.”
“I was mighty impressed with myself, that’s for sure. Outgrew the white hat and haven’t owned one since. Totally impractical.”
“But what a great system. Bad guys wore black hats and good guys wore white hats. You never got confused as to who was the hero.”
He flashed her a grin. “Is my black hat confusing you?”
“Not at all. You’re Roxanne’s brother and Quinn’s son. There’s no way you could be anything but a good guy.”
When he looked over at her, his gaze was several degrees warmer than it had been earlier. “Glad you think so.”
Her breath caught. Holy cow. Her only friends assumption had just gone up in smoke.
Chapter Nine
Was he a good guy? Wes was in no position to judge. She’d seemed startled by the look he’d given her. He’d have to be more careful. If she put him in the same league as his dad, that was high praise. He didn’t want to tarnish his image.
He slowed the truck as he drove down the dirt road to his dad’s place. No point in kicking up dust, even if his truck was already coated with it. A dusty exterior was one of the consequences of driving out to ranches at all hours of the day and night.
Ingrid surveyed the ranch house as it came into view. “Looks inviting with the rockers on the porch and the flowers.”
“Way better than it did when Dad bought it. He and Pete have done a terrific job sprucing it up.” He parked the truck, reached behind the seat for the carrots, and climbed down.
The four rocking chairs on the porch had been evenly spaced Thursday night, but since then two had been scooted together so they almost touched. Clearly his dad and Kendra had done some porch-sitting. Made him smile.
Ingrid was already out of the truck by the time he reached the passenger side. She glanced up at him, her face shadowed by the bill of the GG cap. “You said Pete had to work today, but is your dad around?”
The cap added a cuteness factor that made him want to put his arms around her and cuddle her. “Dad’s here, but he’s not receiving visitors.”
“Is he sick?”
“He’s working. Mornings are when he heads to his studio.”
“Where is it?”
“Down that path, behind the house.”
“Does he work there every morning?”
“Pretty much. Especially like now when he’s involved in a project he’s eager to finish. See that yellow bandana tied on the front doorknob?”
She looked over. “Oh, yeah. I didn’t notice it before.”
“That’s a signal that he’s out back and not to be disturbed.”
“Good signal.”
“Subtle but effective. He came up with it after he and Kendra invented the red bandana signal for her front door.”
“And why would…oh.” Her cheeks grew a little pink and she glanced away.
She looked even cuter when she blushed. “They had to come up with something and neither of them liked the idea of locking the door. This way anyone can see the bandana from the yard and they don’t even bother to try the door.”
She still didn’t look at him. “Ingenious.”
“I thought so.”
She gazed across the property in the direction of Wild Creek Ranch. “Your dad and Kendra have such an interesting arrangement. Do you think they’ll ever live together?”
“I don’t know. They both have such big personalities that they might always need the independence of living apart.”
“It seems to be working for them. And I guess it would make getting together more special.”
“That’s the way it looks to me.” Now if he could just get her to look at him. “Ready to saddle up?”
That did it. “I sure am.” She fell into step beside him as he started toward the barn, her body language more relaxed. “How different is this place from the one in Spokane?”
“Night and day. Dad had two eighteen-stall barns on the Lazy S. This one has only six stalls. There’s one corral here and he had three before, plus a lot of acreage in fenced pastureland.”
“Really big, then.”
“It was, but the main difference is the activity level. Horses, people, and pickups were always in motion. Kendra has plenty happening at Wild Creek, too, but nothing compared to the Lazy S.”
“It sounds exhausting.”
“I’m sure it was, although he wouldn’t admit it. He’s clearly happy to be out from under the responsibility, though. It’s a wonder he could create his art in that atmosphere. This has to be better for—” A high-pitched whinny came through the open doors of the barn. “On my way, Fudge! Hang on, buddy.”
“He knows you’re coming?”
“Yeah. It’s touching how he still calls out to me even though he doesn’t see me much. When I was in school, I tried to make it up to him in the summer. This time I’ll just have to wait until things settle down a bit.” He paused outside the open barn door. “Want to take some carrots?”
“Love to. Thanks.”
He divided them with her and pocketed his half. “I want to check on Banjo’s leg before we take the other two out. Come on down with me so you can meet him.”
“You bet.”
He ushered her into the cool interior of the barn. Clifford, Fudge and Banjo stuck their heads out to see what was going on. “Gotta check on the Banjo-man first, guys. Hang tight.”
“Your dad’s Harley’s looking good.”
Pausing at the stall where the motorcycle was parked, he smiled. “Yeah, he keeps it polished so it’ll look sharp whenever he and Kendra go for a ride.” He continued down the aisle. “Hey, Banjo, how’s your sore leg, buddy?”
Banjo nickered a greeting.
“I’d like you to meet my friend Ingrid. She brought you carrots.” He winked at her.
She laughed, just as he’d hoped she would. “Actually your buddy Wes here brought the carrots.” She pulled one out of her pocket and held it on her level palm. “I’m just the delivery method.” Her smile widened as the gelding nuzzled her hand. “I’d forgotten how much fun this is. Can I give him another one?” She looked like a kid in a candy store. Or in her case, a bakery.
“Sure. Then I’ll go in and check his leg.” Her delight in dispensing carrots was an unexpected bonus. She was clearly meant to spend time with horses and he was just the guy to facilitate that program.
After confirming that Banjo was nearly healed, he waited while Ingrid fed him another carrot. Then he gave the buckskin one last pat and headed toward Fudge and Clifford.
“Clifford, my man, you remember Ingrid, right? You two met during the parade. She wants to get to know you better. And she has carrots.�
��
“I sure do.” Ingrid approached the big roan without hesitation. In no time, she was stroking his nose, feeding him carrots and scratching under his forelock. “We’re going to be great friends, you and me.”
“I can tell he likes that idea.”
“So do I.” She looked over at him. “What about Fudge?”
“Right.” Caught staring at her like a doofus. He turned to his horse, who was giving him the hairy eyeball. “Sorry, buddy,” he murmured as he fed the bay carrots and stroked his silky neck. “Got distracted.”
“I’m out of carrots,” Ingrid said.
“Me, too. I’ll get the lead ropes.”
“Can I lead Clifford out?”
“Absolutely.” He came back with the ropes and handed her one.
“I might need a refresher course on saddling and bridling him, though. It’s been a few years.”
“You don’t have to tack him up. I can—”
“But I want to! That’s half the fun. You get to know the horse better that way.”
“True.” Every move she made and every comment she uttered endeared her to him more and more. And made him want to find a way past the emotional barriers she kept shoving into place. Good thing her ex was in Boston. Wes had the urge to knock the guy into next week.
Once they had both horses tethered to the hitching rail he fetched the grooming tote. He handed her one brush and he took another. Then he was treated to her soft murmurs as she talked to Clifford while she groomed him.
Usually he talked to Fudge, too, but he didn’t want to block out the sound of Ingrid’s voice so he kept his mouth shut. It was sweet torture, listening to her croon to the horse as she stroked his silky coat. And it had a predictable effect on the region just below Wes’s belt buckle. He ignored the temporary discomfort, soaking up the picture she made standing beside the big roan.
Before she finished brushing Clifford, he headed into the barn to fetch the tack and to give himself a moment to cool down. She was more potent than one of her Firecrackers, and she didn’t even know it.
A Cowboy’s Challenge_The McGavin Brothers Page 6
