Visibly, he released a long breath then used his index finger to push up the brim of his black Stetson, revealing more of that sable-colored hair. How could a man have such gleaming, pretty hair? A finger-tempting wave made her fingers itch to brush it away from his forehead.
The smile on his face dripped into another scowl. “That isn’t what I meant, ma’am. I’m sorry Girl and Boy almost stepped on you, but with all the people that will soon flood the festival, you really should pay attention to what is going on around you. You’re lucky I was watching or they really might have harmed you.”
Brooke chose to ignore his admonishment and instead pointed to his horses. “You named those beautiful creatures Girl and Boy?”
A boyish grin weakened her knees as he removed his gloves, and stepped back to rest a hand on the shoulder of one of the horses. “Sure did. Raised these two from the time they were born. They’re twin Belgian draft horses.” He looked at her then motioned for her to come closer. “You can pet them, if you like.”
“I don’t think…”
He grabbed her hand and lifted it to the neck of the horse. “Girl won’t mind,” he said in his gravel-tinged voice.
A shiver rolled over her and she would have stepped away, but he’d blocked her in with his big body. The man behind her exuded warmth and strength, and smelled better than anything that had previously tantalized her nose. On top of all that, he was tall, too. At five-ten, Brooke intimidated most men with her height. This cowboy, though, stood several inches above her.
Flustered by the jolts of electricity firing up her arm as he continued to brush her hand along the animal’s hide, she tamped down the urge to jerk from his grasp and stalk off.
Emotional attachments always ended badly and that was exactly what she wanted from this good-looking cowboy with the easy smile. What would it be like to be able to lean into that incredible chest after a tiring day or just hold his warm, callused hand when she needed a bit of comfort?
Since she’d never find out, she took a step to the side, maneuvering away from him.
“What did you say these horses are? Belgiums? Like a waffle?”
“Belgians.” He grinned as he rubbed a hand along the face of the horse he’d called Girl. “Actually, their father was a Belgian and their mother is an Appaloosa, that’s why they have unique coloring and are so big.”
“Appaloosa horses are the ones with the spots?” Brooke wracked her brain for any tidbit of information that would help her sound anything other than stupid in front of Mr. Handsome.
“That’s right. The spots and this dark red coloring along their necks and chests are from their mother. Their size and temperament come from their father.” He gave her a long, observant glance. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around Romance before. I’m Blayne Grundy. My ranch, the Rockin’ G, is about ten miles south of town.”
“Brooke Roberts,” she said, holding his gaze although she reluctantly shook his proffered hand. Braced for the impact, a zing raced from their connected palms up her arm and rattled her already discordant thoughts. She needed to get away from the cowboy before she said or did something she’d regret. “I need to go. Thank you for not running over me.”
“I’m sorry for shouting at you, but you seemed far too absorbed in your thoughts to notice the horses.” Blayne gave her a smile that most likely left women falling at his feet anytime he flashed it around.
Regardless of what he intended, she refused to let that smile or his charm faze her. “Enjoy your day,” she said and turned away from him, from the temptation he unwittingly offered.
“Do you have a booth here?” he asked, taking a step toward her.
Rather than answer, she pretended she didn’t hear him and hurried off through the crowds that gathered for the event.
Determined to put Blayne Grundy and his hunky presence out of her mind, she hurried back to her booth, prepared to hide there all day if necessary.
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About the Author
Hopeless romantic Shanna Hatfield spent ten years as a newspaper journalist before moving into the field of marketing and public relations. Sharing the romantic stories she dreams up in her head is a perfect outlet for her love of writing, reading, and creativity. She and her husband, lovingly referred to as Captain Cavedweller, reside in the Pacific Northwest.
Shanna loves to hear from readers.
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Email: [email protected]
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