Page 55 of The Guy Who Stole My Ranch

“Frank?” I asked.

She nodded.

Snowstorm’s muzzle lowered an inch at a time. He stopped often to sniff the air.

Frank waited, his tail wagging and his own snout extended.

“Frank is certain everyone is already his friend,” I said.

Brooke chuckled quietly. “He’s the opposite of you.”

Some people may have taken offense, but I shrugged one shoulder. “I’d agree.”

Brooke looked over at me. “Why is that?”

She sounded sincere in her inquiry, and while I didn’t have a problem answering, I wanted her to answer one of her own for me. I met her gaze and said, “If I tell you, will you answer a question that I ask you?”

Brooke studied me, her eyes taking in every inch of my face. I was painfully aware that she spent her days looking at Christopher and the other handsome single men in Whitehill. Could she ever see me as more than the buyer of her family’s ranch? After a moment, she nodded. “Sure.”

“Our family is wealthy, and with that comes the fact that people rarely want to be my friend because they like me. Instead, they’re posturing for position in the business world, or they’re hoping to somehow come in contact with our money.” I held her gaze. “Victoria was the first person in years to see me and not my portfolio.”

Brooke smiled. “She does that.”

I nodded. Victoria, and then Logan, had helped me remember what it was like to want good people in my life. People who didn’t have ulterior motives.

A snort came from Snowstorm. I returned my attention to the two animals and found them nose to nose. Frank’s tail was once again going crazy, and Snowstorm was leaning out as far as he could.

“He does have a way with basically everyone, doesn’t he?” Brooke asked, referring to Frank.

“He does.” As strange as it sounded, I’d been watching Frank since I’d adopted him. I envied the way he assumed everyone he met would like him. I assumed everyone I met either hated my family or wanted something.

Frank let out a friendly bark.

Snowstorm tossed his head but didn’t withdraw back into the stall.

Frank went down on all fours and turned in a circle.

“What did you want to ask me?” Brooke said.

I had a million questions for her, but I decided on one that had been plaguing me for the past few days. “Is it okay that we’re coming to the barley harvest?”

Brooke blinked in surprise.

I went on. “I know you wanted these lasts with your family to be special. I won’t be offended if you don’t want me there.”

Rick had been right about Brooke when she was in this place. Her expression softened, more so than it ever had before, and one side of her mouth quirked up into a smile. “My dad invited you, of course you can come.”

“That’s not what I asked,” I pointed out.

She sighed, then looked back at where Frank was jumping, trying to get closer to Snowstorm.

I didn’t push. If I’d learned anything about Brooke in our time together, it was that she answered when she was good and ready.

“Let’s get a little closer.” Brooke’s fingers found mine and tugged me forward.

Icy hot chills ran up my arm and set my chest on fire. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Did this mean something? If so, what?

Neither animal noticed us after one step. Or two. Frank continued to jump as if begging Snowstorm to come out and play, while the horse watched in amusement and shook his head.

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