Page 50 of The Cowboy Fix

He brought Rosie in from the pasture and cleaned tack while she brushed the mare down. When she finished, she saddled the horse, making sure every strap and buckle was tight and secure.

Nathan’s silence bore down on her shoulders. When she couldn’t stand it anymore, she said, “You’re quiet.”

“Not much to say, I guess.” He sighed heavily and put the harnesses he was cleaning aside. Reaching for the saddle on Rosie’s back, he tugged at the straps to make sure they were snug. “You asked earlier what I would do if I were in your shoes. What inquiries have you gotten so far?”

Izzy put on Rosie’s harness. “There’s a nursery in Bellingham, Washington that wants to merge with another garden center. A museum in Chicago needs help improving foot traffic and buyers for the art pieces they’re showing. And there’s a ranch in Montana that is looking to explore more income. Similar to what we’re doing here.” At the change in his expression, she said, “Not Mr. Jaeger.”

“Well, I guess it’s up to you. Those are all good options.” He looked at her over the top of the saddle. “It depends on where you want to take your business in the long run.”

Relieved that he was talking again, she said, “I’m not sure. I have to think about that some more.”

“It’s not an easy decision to make.” His dark eyes went soft with understanding and a little regret, too. He pulled on the belly strap. “You’re good to go.”

Suddenly realizing he hadn’t saddled Duke, she asked, “You’re not riding with me?”

“No, I’ll stand back and watch. I want to check your balance and see how Rosie reads your signals.” There were three barrels set up in a triangle, spaced fairly far apart, in the middle of the arena. “First lap, walk a clover leaf around each barrel, going from one to the next. Pick up the pace with each lap, but don’t break into a flat-out run.”

After an hour Izzy had gotten the hang of circling the barrels. Nathan waved her in. “Good job. You’re getting better.”

“Thanks.” She dismounted and wondered what Nathan would say if she asked him to dinner. Two friends enjoying a meal together. That sounded innocent enough. “I could make dinner tonight...”

He didn’t look her way. “Can’t. I have another student coming.”

“Another student?” Izzy stopped in her tracks, hanging onto Rosie’s reigns.

Nathan gave her a long look as he backed up heading for the pasture. “Yeah. Jonas hung an ad at the feed store and put a calendar by the phone in the house. Three students have already signed up.”

“Congratulations.” That was quick results and what the brothers wanted, right?

“Thanks.” He spun around, seeming to be in a hurry to get away, but then he stopped and faced her. “You go ahead and brush Rosie down. If you would put her in her stall for the night, I’d appreciate it. Make sure she has water.”

Had he forgotten that she’d been working in the barn for more than a week? “Of course.”

“I’ll leave you to it then.” He pulled his cowboy hat low over his eyes and off he went to the pasture, his back ramrod straight, his strides long.

Disappointed at his apparent brush-off but determined not to give the rancher any more time by lamenting the change in their relationship—if they even had one that was anything more than owner and contractor—after she finished settling Rosie for the night, she went inside to make her solitary dinner.

She was making a stuffed burrito when her phone rang. “I’m so glad you called,” she told Malorie.

Her friend was in the kitchen, too, if the sound of a pot landing on the counter was anything to go by. The kids must be helping her cook. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Izzy put as much energy into the one word as she could. She was not in the mood to talk about—

“It’s Nathan, isn’t it?”

She should have known she couldn’t keep anything from her best friend. They’d been through too much together. “Maybe, but that’s not why I’m glad you called. I was hoping you could take me to pick up the Rover tomorrow.”

“Of course, I can. What time?”

Malorie would badger her about Nathan on the way to Michaels’ Garage, but that would give her time to decide what it was that was roiling in her chest. “I’ve got chores in the morning, so maybe nine?”

“I’ll be there. I’ve got some good news,” Malorie said, a happy note in her voice.

Izzy plopped her burrito in the microwave and set the timer. “What’s that?”

“The Wedding Cottage is booked every weekend for the next five weeks.” For the time being, Malorie had volunteered to be the curator for the cottage around her schedule at the hospital.

Propping the phone between her ear and shoulder, Izzy wiped her hands on a tea towel. “That’s wonderful. And fast.”

---