Page 10 of Home to the Cowboy's Arms

Was he serious?He certainly looked serious. “Okay, here.” She rummaged in her bag and came up with a quarter. “We’ll flip for the big bed. Loser takes the bunks or the couch. And I’ll even let you flip the coin and call it first. Heads or tails?”

“You’re serious? You willing to gamble and lose the bed? Just forget it. I’ll take the couch.”

“Are you afraid to gamble? Thought you rodeo cowboys gambled every time you got on a wild animal. Or is that just television?”

He took the coin from her outstretched palm. “Okay. We’ll toss for it. I call tails.”

She smiled. “Appropriate in a variety of ways. I get heads—toss it.”

And he did. And he lost.

“And that is that,” she said. And while it was very difficult to not rub salt in the cowboy’s possibly wounded pride, there were more important tasks ahead. They were here to win him over on the question of the springs. “I’ll change into my other shoes and be ready to take a tour of the facilities in five minutes. You’ll be ready?” She began to unpack her bag.

His reply was to grab his bag from the floor and retrace his steps into the living room. The door shut behind him with a little more decisiveness than expected. Which only made her smile more. The full-of-himself cowboy might learn a little attitude adjustment along with the facts on this trip.

He was waiting on the front porch of the cabin when she next saw him. He glanced at his watch. “Two minutes to spare.”

“I am a strong believer in punctuality. It was ingrained in me from an early age.”

“An early age?” He cast out the question. Perhaps fishing.

Tori smiled and headed down the steps to the path. “Can’t waste the daylight. We’ll begin with the lower pools and work our way to the top. Sound like a plan?”

He had to move it a bit to catch up with her determined steps. “Asking for my input?”

“Of course,” she replied, not breaking stride. “You’re ano-nonsensetype of businessman…or so I’ve been led to believe. So wasting time would not be something you would want to do…correct? But if I’m going too fast for you, I can slow down.”

“No need to slow down on my account. That’s fine in business. In other areas I prefer to take things nice and slow, but that’sotherthings.”

Was that a pesky stone in the path that tripped her up? His hand shot out quick enough to lend a steadying grip on her elbow. She righted herself from the stumble and continued her stride. His hand went back to minding its own business. “Thanks, but I’ve got this.”

“As always, it seems.” The words were lowered, and she didn’t have full control of her breathing at the moment to respond, so she let it slide. He could think whatever he liked. It was a stone in her path that made her unsteady, not anything he said or the ridiculous reaction it conjured up in her brain to whatever innuendo he might have alluded to.Get a grip. You don’t even like the arrogant rancher. You are not some groupie.

“Here we are,” she said, glad of another focus for her mind. The map in her hand corresponded to the information on the sign posted at the first hot springs. “You can read the information for yourself. This is a small pool set aside for smaller groups…individuals and couples…even parent and child as seems to be the case that we can see.”

It was evident that a mother was trying to get a second, mostly reluctant little boy into the pool but he was having none of it. The other child was watching from a submerged seat against the far wall. Mom was pleading, then resorting to a more parental tone of authority, and ultimately attempting to bribe the child, who looked to be about seven in age, with promises of his favorite dessert and of watching a television show before bedtime. He was staunch in his refusal.

“Okay, which one of you youngsters is the best cannon-baller?” The question surprised all of them into silence, including Tori. All eyes were on Cade. “It takes a lot of practice to get it right. I bet it’s you?” And he pointed at the younger child sitting quietly, eyes round with surprise. He shook his head quickly enough. “What’s that?”

“You two don’t know what a cannon ball is?”

The older boy spoke up. “I do!”

“Well, I doubt that since most cannon-ballers…really good ones…are always in the water working on bigger splashes. You don’t even get into the water as far as I can tell. So, you can’t be very good at it.”

“I am, too. Watch me.” And the child took his stance on the edge of the pool and did his tuck and hold in midair, and a splash erupted when he hit the water. The boy came up and quickly looked with triumph at Cade. “See?”

Cade made a show of serious consideration. “I don’t know about that. It was a weak splash. You sure you’ve been practicing? I bet your mom and brother there might like to see how much better you can do…if you really want to be the best.”

The boy was already climbing out and taking his stance again. “I’ll show them.”

“Then we’ll leave you to it to get some practice. Practice will make you the best at whatever you do. Keep at it.”

He met the grateful smile of the mother with one of his own and a knowing wink as the boy made good on another jump.

As they walked away, the sounds of more splashes could be heard.

“Who knew you had some child psychology mixed in with your knowledge of cattle? Very surprising. Unless you have a child or two I haven’t heard about?” She ventured a glance in his direction as they walked toward the next pool.

---