Her Cowboy Dilemma
Page 20
These mostly untamed horses were perfect for the book, in looks and disposition. Despite their shaggy coats, long manes and tails, and compact muscled bodies, they were extraordinary, and they knew it.
Not just any horse, they carried the blood of their Spanish ancestors, brought over on ships crossing the Atlantic Ocean nearly five hundred years ago. It showed in the proud, regal way they held their heads, the intelligence reflecting in their eyes and the graceful movements of their bodies.
Dallas was transfixed—by the horses and also by Conner.
He might possess two MBAs and be as smart as a rocket scientist, but he belonged to this land every bit as much as these mustangs. How many systems analysts handled a rope as if it was an extension of their arm? Had an uncanny ability to predict a horse’s next move? Wore their jeans, Western shirt and cowboy hat with the comfort and ease of a suit?
Conner did.
Except Dallas liked him infinitely better in jeans.
She snapped several pictures of him while he waited for the mustangs to approach, certain he had no idea he was the focal point of all her shots.
A mild breeze tousled the lock of unruly blond hair that swept across his tanned forehead. His hazel eyes narrowed with interest as he studied the approaching horses. A shade shy of six feet, he had the build of an athlete despite spending the last six years in an office, and he carried himself with confidence, completely ignorant of his effect on the opposite sex.
For every hundred or so pictures Dallas took, she might use one for the book. To that end, she snapped away.
“I want to get a few shots of the baby.” Without waiting for Conner to reply, she climbed the fence and straddled the top rail, careful to maintain her balance.
The filly, no more than six months old, cooperated nicely, turning her sweet face toward the camera. When Dallas went to climb down the fence, the material of her slacks caught on a piece of wire. She momentarily wobbled and let out a startled yelp.
“Don’t move!” In a flash, Conner was at her side, assisting her down.
The horses fidgeted, not entirely happy with this new intruder on their side of the fence.
When both of Dallas’s feet were firmly planted on the ground, she looked up and went instantly still. Conner’s nearness, not to mention his strong hands resting protectively on her waist, brought a rush of heat to her cheeks.
“Th-thanks. I’m all right.”
“You sure?”
No, she wasn’t. Sure or all right.
“I’m fine. Really,” she insisted, silently scolding herself. She wasn’t some silly buckle bunny or schoolgirl, and her reaction to Conner was entirely over the top.
He turned from her in that unhurried manner of his. “I was thinking, maybe we could grab a cup of coffee at the Corner Diner when you’re done here. Strictly work,” he clarified, when she didn’t respond. “To go over what you need to do and how we’ll accomplish it.”
“Of course. Strictly work.” She shoved her disappointment aside. Conner was right; they needed to maintain a professional relationship. For many reasons. “Except, if you don’t mind, I’d like something a little more substantial. I wasn’t feeling like eating earlier, and now I’m starving.”
Twenty minutes later, they made their way toward Conner’s truck. The ride to Mustang Village, where the diner was located, didn’t take long. The uniquely designed, equestrian-friendly community had been constructed on land formerly owned by the Powell family.
Where cattle once roamed, commercial buildings, a retail center, apartments, condos and houses sat. The slow flowing river remained, but the lush vegetation growing on its banks had been replaced by a fence and keep-out signs. Horses still carried their riders across the valley—on bridle paths networking the area, not the open range.
Powell Ranch, four generations strong, looked down on Mustang Village from its place on the mountainside, a witness to the wheels of progress.
“You grew up in this area,” Dallas commented as they pulled into the diner’s parking lot. “Does it seem strange to you, seeing all the changes?”
“Sometimes.” He grinned affably. “When I was twelve, Gavin’s dad started letting me go with them on cattle roundups. The corrals were over there.” He pointed to the park a block down the street. “The loading station just beyond them. We’d drive those cows from all over the valley right past this very spot.”
“What a sight that must have been.” She imagined the pictures she’d have taken. Hundreds of cows on the move. “I bet you loved it.”
“Are you kidding? It was dirty and sweaty and backbreaking work.”
“You did love it!”
He grinned again. “The only thing more fun was the night we captured Prince.”
“You’ll have to tell me about it.”
“For the book?”
She shook her head. “I’m only responsible for the photographs. I just want to hear any stories you have from the days before Mustang Village was built. For inspiration.”
They entered the half-empty restaurant and were promptly seated.
“If I do, you’ll fall asleep,” Conner said, opening his menu.
“I doubt that. The last thing you are is boring.”
He looked up at her.
When their gazes connected, a zing went through Dallas, half warm and pleasant, half...
Wow!
So much for keeping their relationship professional.
Was he feeling it, too? Did he also sometimes think about what might have been?
Attempting to distract herself, she perused the diner’s daily specials and waited for her unpredictable stomach to protest. It didn’t. Whew. She wasn’t going to embarrass herself in front of Conner.
After giving their orders to the waitress, he removed a pen from his shirt pocket and began making notes on a paper napkin. “I was thinking of Saturday for our trip into the mountains. Unless you have plans for the weekend.”
“No plans.” She peered at the list he was making, tilting her head and reading upside down. Water, snacks, twine, a tarp, a map, GPS, first aid kit, rain ponchos.
“Is eight o’clock too early?” He continued to scribble as he talked.
“No. I’m up at six most days.”
“Any preference on a mount?”
“Just something broke. Very broke. Like, if there’s a freak earthquake while we’re out, the horse won’t so much as swish his tail.”
Conner’s brows drew together. “You’re an experienced rider, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but I’d rather not take any chances.”
“If you’re worried about the trails being rugged, we can always take the easier ones.”
“It’s not that.” She set her fork down, suddenly nervous.
“What then?”
She hadn’t planned on making any announcements until she started showing.
“Well.” She mustered a smile while rubbing her damp palms on her slacks. “I’m pregnant.”
Conner spilled several drops of coffee onto the table before managing to steady his mug. “Pregnant! Wha...when?”
“When did I find out? A couple weeks ago. And to answer both questions you’re too polite to ask, yes, Richard knows about the baby and no, we didn’t discover I was pregnant until after we’d called off the engagement.”
ISBN: 9781460310540
HER COWBOY DILEMMA
Copyright © 2013 by Carla Daum
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
Th
is is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com