Page 16 of The Christmas Cowboy

“Like I said, I’m trying to convince her she can leave the ranch. With you to help me she won’t have that excuse.”

“What if she still doesn’t leave?”

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

“Speaking of experience, you realize I know paints, not quarter horses.”

“Some quarter horses are paints.”

“True and we have some. But if I’m going to help you, I need to know more about quarter horses. Breeding and whatnot.”

“I have some literature I’ll give you. But you know horses and that’s the main thing.”

“I’m a quick learner.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“Tell me about your horses. I’ve seen them, of course, but I don’t really know that much about them.”

His eyes lit up at that. “Blackjack is my stud. He’s a smoky black.” He went on to explain the horse’s lineage, the awards he’d won, and the offspring he’d sired, including the most recent. “My broodmare is Moondance. She’s a buckskin. A real sweetheart.” He talked about her background and his plans for her future. The mare also had a championship bloodline.

“How in the world did you get two horses with those pedigrees to breed?” They must have cost a fortune.

“I bought Moondance as a filly. Her owner was selling all his horses and moving. Said he was getting out of the business. So she was relatively cheap.”

“I bet Blackjack wasn’t cheap.”

Liam laughed. “Not by a long shot. But I knew I wasn’t going to have what I needed to make my business successful without a good stud. It was rough for a while.”

“I bet.”

“That reminds me, are you bringing any horses besides your mare with you?”

“No, just Starlight.” She’d named her mare after the star on her forehead. She was a tobiano chestnut paint with white markings. Val had raised her from a filly and broken her. She was really smart. Val had trained her to do a variety of tasks and some tricks as well. But honestly, the best thing about her was that she had the sweetest disposition of any horse she’d ever been around.

“You should get some sleep,” Liam said.

“Why, do I look that bad?”

“Not bad. But you look tired.”

“I am,” she admitted. “I’m not sure why.”

“Because you’re pregnant?”

“I guess. Okay, I’m going to bed.” Obviously, they weren’t going to have sex. “You’re not sleeping on the couch, are you?”

“Not unless you want me to.”

“I don’t. We might as well start getting used to sleeping together.” In the true sense of the word and not as a euphemism for sex. Unfortunately. “What side of the bed do you sleep on?”

“All of it.”

“Very funny. Choose one.”

“Left.”

“Good. I sleep on the right.” They both got up from the couch and she took a step toward the bedroom.

---