Page 54 of The Guy Who Stole My Ranch

Frank gave her a spectacular begging face.

“Sorry, bud, this horse has a way to go before he’ll be ready to be your bro.” Brooke scratched Frank’s sides, then stood.

“What were you tempting him with?” I asked.

Brooke looked down at her hand and then showed me what lay in her palm. “Dates.”

“I’ve heard horses love them, but I’ve never brought any to our stables.”

“They usually do the trick.”

“But not today?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Like you said, Snowstorm has been through something bad.”

I nodded, then noticed Frank still inching closer to the stall. Brooke’s gaze had also turned to my dog, and then by an unspoken agreement, our eyes met.

I was pleased that I understood that she wanted to know about Frank’s interest in Snowstorm. We’d only taken Frank to her barn once, and he hadn’t had a chance to socialize.

“He loves horses,” I explained. “Whenever we go to my family’s stables, he greets each and every horse.” I looked down fondly at my dog. “It takes forever, but if I don’t let him, he pouts for days.”

Brooke raised her eyebrows. “Has he ever dealt with a horse that might kick him?”

“No,” I admitted, “but there’s a wall of wood between them.”

“True.” Brooke squatted down and looked at Frank. He turned his attention to her and seemed to be listening intently. “Snowstorm might not like you.”

Frank cocked his head to the side.

“I’m serious.” Brooke scratched his back.

Frank’s eyes swiveled to the stall, where Snowstorm had moved to the window. His nose hadn’t come over the wall, but he was obviously curious about one of us.

Brooke looked at me again, and she shrugged. “May as well let Frank get closer.”

I agreed and let the leash out a little so I could move back, and Frank could get to the door. At the same time, I offered Brooke a hand to help her stand. Even though I’d never done such a thing before, it was instinctual.

To my utter surprise, Brooke took my hand.

We’d touched as we’d worked, but this was different. Just as she straightened, Frank got to the door, and Snowstorm kicked it from the other side.

Brooke’s grip on my fingers tightened. Or maybe mine tightened around hers. We both took a step toward the door, but Frank, who hadn’t even flinched at the sound, glared over his shoulder at us. As if he’d commanded us, we moved away.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Brooke said.

“Trust him,” I said.

“You said he hasn’t dealt with mean horses before?”

“He’s got good instincts,” I assured her. For the most part, Harris Inc. had good trainers, but there had been a few that weren’t gentle, and their horses tended to be skittish around people.

We kept holding hands as Frank got up on his hind legs, with one foreleg on the door, and stretched to sniff Snowstorm.

Brook let go of my hand, but she didn’t move away from me. I felt both lost, because she’d broken the contact, and found, because our shoulders almost brushed.

The horse eyed us, then dipped his head over the edge of the stall toward Frank.

“He’s not even worried,” Brooke noted.

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