Page 25 of The Guy Who Stole My Ranch

“Do you?” Brooke waved a hand. “Why do you want to buy a ranch?”

I didn’t want to spell my whole life out for this woman?not yet?but she deserved something. “It’s a childhood dream come true.”

Brooke continued to look at me. She took a moment to answer. “You want to change this whole place because of a childhood dream?”

“Yes. It should be a good thing. More jobs for locals and bigger money funneled through town.”

“Maybe.” She didn’t sound convinced.

“Are the people of Whitehill averse to change?” I asked, curious as to what kind of resistance I might meet.

“Some of us,” she muttered.

Silence settled again. I had so many things I wanted to say, but it felt like Brooke had reached her limit on giving personal information, so I went back to the topic of the property. “How old is this horse barn?”

“The bones are at least sixty years old, but we’ve replaced almost everything in the last ten.”

I pointed out the window. “How long will the rain last?”

Brooke frowned. “Between ten and twenty minutes.”

I gestured at the barn. “It seems we have some time. Would you be willing to give me a tour?”

“Sure.” Brooke opened her door and jumped out like she couldn’t handle being inside the cab with me for another moment.

I tried not to take it personally.

The storm, which sounded like a drummer’s convention on the awning, was coming from the opposite direction as the door, so we didn’t end up too wet before Brooke pulled the barn open and we moved inside.

The clatter and splashing of rain went from a roar to a murmur. The familiar scent of animals, hay, and oiled leather, with an undertone of livestock droppings, filled my nostrils. The place looked like most of the horse barns you might see on television, with stalls down each side of a wide hall. Bits of hay dotted the wood floor, and there was a storage room at each end. One of the animals from the far side of the building whinnied.

“Would you like to meet some of our horses?” Brooke asked. Several had put their noses through their open windows to see who had come.

I couldn’t help a small smile. “I’d love to.”

Brooke gave me a questioning look before she moved toward the nearest stall and waved me after her.

“This is Betsy. She’s a four-year-old quarter horse who stands fifteen hands tall and loves to prove she’s tougher than the other horses.” Brooke grabbed a handful of oats from a bag that hung on the wall and made a clicking sound with her tongue.

I’d been attracted to Brooke the first time I’d seen her. Whether it was her extremely alluring curvy figure or her love for dogs, or both, didn’t matter. Now, seeing her work with a horse, my insides melted a little.

A brown head with a small white star on the nose appeared and knickered at Brooke. Betsy sniffed at Brooke’s hand, then she gently took the oats with her lips.

They said the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. I wasn’t sure about that, but I knew it to be true for horses. I followed Brooke’s lead by scooping some oats and moving close enough to Brooke that our shoulders almost touched. She felt like a gravity well, and it took some concentration to stop myself from taking one more step toward her. Instead, I held out my hand and said, “Hey,” to the horse.

Betsy eyed me for a moment, sniffed the air a few times, then decided it was worth the risk for the treat, and ate from my palm. I began stroking her nose and spoke softly. “It’s good to meet you, Betsy. I’m William.”

She huffed as she searched for the stray oats on my hand. As she did so, I glanced into her stall. When I saw it hadn’t been mucked out yet this evening, an idea struck me.

Brooke was worried that I didn’t understand what it meant to run this place. She wasn’t entirely wrong to be concerned. What if I could convince her to allow me to come and observe her as she worked? I would not only get valuable training about the ranch, but I would get to spend time with Brooke, something I wanted more and more every second we were together.

Would she agree to my proposal? I wasn’t sure and debated in my mind for a moment before I spoke. “It looks like her stall needs to be cleaned out.”

“You mean it smells like it needs to be cleaned out,” Brooke said.

“That too. How would you feel about a friendly wager?” I asked.

“That depends.” Her narrowed eyes were expectant.

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