Page 11 of Saddles and Snowstorms
“Disagree,” Rowan said, moving on to the third horse. “Plenty of ranchers with twice your experience don’t have half your touch. These animals trust you.”
I felt heat crawl up my neck at his words. Compliments alwaysmade me uncomfortable, especially from someone whose opinion shouldn’t matter to me. But it did, and that was the problem.
“Just doing what needs doing,” I mumbled, adjusting my hat lower over my eyes.
Rowan worked in silence for a moment, his hands steady as he checked the horse’s gums. The morning sun had fully risen now, streaming through the barn windows and catching in his dark hair, highlighting strands of auburn I hadn’t noticed before.
“You know,” he said casually, not looking at me, “I’ve been in Sagebrush for nearly three weeks now, and you’re still the only person who calls me Dr. Walsh.”
“That so?” I leaned against a post, trying to appear indifferent.
“Even Mrs. Henley calls me Rowan, and she’s ninety-two and calls everyone ‘young man.’” He glanced up with that half-smile that went straight to my groin.
“Mrs. Henley would call the devil himself ‘darlin’, if he showed up with fresh-baked cookies,” I muttered, shifting my weight again.
Rowan laughed, a genuine sound that echoed through the barn and made the horses’ ears prick up. “You’re probably right about that.” He moved to the last horse, a gelding named Buck who was notoriously skittish around strangers.
To my surprise, Buck didn’t flinch when Rowan approached. Instead, he lowered his head, almost nuzzling against Rowan’s chest. Something tightened in my gut at the sight.
“Well, would you look at that,” Rowan said softly, stroking Buck’s muzzle. “Seems like I’m winning someone over, at least.”
Our eyes met over Buck’s head, and I couldn’t look away. Those green eyes of his held mine, steady and unafraid, like he was looking right through all my carefully constructed walls.
“He’s just being friendly ‘cause you’ve got treats in your pocket,” I said, breaking the moment.
“No treats today,” Rowan replied, still holding my gaze. “Just patience. Animals can sense when you’re genuine.”
I looked away first, focusing on a cobweb in the corner of the barn. “You about done?”
“Almost,” he said, his voice softer now as he prepared the last vaccination. “Buck here just needs his shot, and we’re all set.”
I watched as he worked, his hands gentle but confident as they moved over my horse. Buck, the traitor, seemed to be enjoying the attention, leaning into Rowan’s touch like he’d been waiting for it his whole life.
“There we go,” Rowan murmured, stepping back from the stall. “All done.”
He packed up his equipment with practiced efficiency, and I found myself wishing he’d take longer, which was exactly the opposite of what I should’ve been wanting. I followed him out of the barn into the bright Texas sunshine, squinting against the glare.
“Your horses are in great shape,” he said, stopping by his truck. “You’re doing a good job with them.”
“Thanks,” I said, the word feeling awkward in my mouth. Something about Rowan always got me tongue-tied and shy when I should’ve been confident and detached. “I’ll settle up with you next time I’m in town,” I finished, shoving my hands into my pockets to keep from fidgeting.
Rowan leaned against his truck, studying me with those penetrating green eyes. “No rush. I can bill you.” He didn’t make any move to leave, just stood there looking at me like he was trying to figure something out. “You ever come into town for anything besides supplies, Brooks?”
I shifted my weight, uncomfortable with the personal question. “Not much reason to.”
“There’s a decent little bar I just found the other day. The Rusty Spur. Nothing fancy, but they’ve got cold beer and good burgers.”
My heart thumped harder against my ribs. Was he suggesting what I thought he was suggesting? “I know the place,” I said carefully.
“I’m usually there Friday evenings.” He opened his truck door but paused before getting in. “In case you ever want company with your dinner.”
The invitation hung in the air between us. I should’ve brushed it off, made some excuse about being busy with the ranch. Instead, I found myself nodding slightly. “Maybe.”
Something flickered in Rowan’s eyes, a sense of knowing and recognition that filled me with dread.
The corner of Rowan’s mouth twitched upward. “Maybe’s better than no.”
He climbed into his truck, the door creaking shut behind him. I stood there like a damn fool, watching as he started the engine and backed up, raising a hand in farewell before driving down my long dirt driveway.
