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  Opening his eyes, he turned his attention back to the sexy redhead.

  Matt Dillon didn’t resist as Raleigh lifted his foreleg and rested it on her tripod. Bracing her back, she locked her knees around the animal’s hoof, then dug in her toolbox with one hand. She located her rasp and started removing the clenches from the old shoe.

  Dan watched Raleigh work. He was struck once more by her girl-next-door good looks. It didn’t fit. Her delicate feminine features and her tough persona. A contrast, that frankly, he found sexy as heck.

  “Does this take you long?” he asked.

  “About forty-five minutes. Why? You givin’ me a speed test?”

  There was that bit of gristle again. He shook his head.

  “If you knew anything about shoeing horses, you’d know that’s a dang good time. And just because I’m fast doesn’t mean I don’t do a good job.” She narrowed her eyes and hardened her little chin.

  Somewhere along the line someone had made her doubt her capabilities. “I was only making conversation. Stop getting your nose out of joint over nothing.”

  She twisted her mouth up but didn’t meet his eyes.

  Dan held the bridle with one hand, using the other to push his cowboy hat back on his forehead.

  “I apologize,” she mumbled. “I can get defensive about my work. After you get ridiculed enough, you cop an attitude. Pa warned me about my temper.”

  “You’ve got to admit you don’t live up to most people’s idea of a farrier. A blacksmith is supposed to be a big, burly fellow, not a pretty young girl.”

  “I know.” She sighed like she’d been trudging up Mount Everest without oxygen. “Trying to buck convention in this one-horse town is like spitting into a tornado. It gets you nothing but a wet face.”

  “Are you from Rascal?” he asked, watching her from the corner of his eye.

  “Born and raised. Sometimes it’s a real pain, you know?” Her voice took on a heated quality, thick and warmed. “Everybody thinks they have a right to tell you how to run your business because they watched you grow up.”

  “You love horses,” he said.

  “More than just about anything.”

  The shiny joy on her face made him edgy in a raw, primal way and he was eternally grateful that she’d driven onto his ranch. And Dan had the strangest longing to be the thing that put that rapturous look on her face.

  After removing Matt Dillon’s old shoe and plunking it in the dirt, she rummaged in her box for a pair of nippers. Diligently, she groomed the gelding’s hoof, cutting away at the excess growth like a podiatrist trimming toe nails.

  As she worked an odd odor of burning beans filled the air.

  Dan wrinkled his nose.

  Chester got up, loped over and began chewing on the discarded hoof clippings.

  “Why is he eating that stuff?”

  Raleigh shrugged, a jerky movement. “Dogs love hoof clippings. Don’t ask me why.”

  “Ugh.”

  Chester licked his chops and sniffed the ground, eagerly searching for more.

  Dan aimed his dog a look of distaste. Chester wagged his tail and rubbed against Dan’s leg. “You dirty hound,” Dan cooed and scratched the dog behind his ears. “How long you been doing this sort of work?”

  “Ten years,” Raleigh replied.

  “Ten years? But you couldn’t be more than nineteen or twenty years old.”

  “I’ll be twenty-four next month.” Her hammer made a muted ping-ping sound as she tapped out a new aluminum shoe against the wooden frame.

  “You’ve been shoeing horses since you were thirteen?”

  “That’s how the arithmetic adds up.” She chuckled.

  “Where’d you learn?”

  “My pa taught me.”

  “How come?”

  “What do you mean?” She raised her head and her braid flipped over her shoulder. For the first time he noticed her braid was tied with a soft pink ribbon the exact same color as her mouth. That looked much softer than the expression she was shooting at him.

  “Why does a man teach his petite, teenage daughter to shoe horses? It’s dangerous work. You could get kicked, even killed.” The thought of Raleigh getting injured disturbed him more than he cared to admit. One misplaced hoof and she’d crumple like tissue paper.

  She snorted.

  “What?”

  “You’re no different from the rest.”

  “Why are you mad? What did I say?”

  “You don’t think I can handle myself?”

  “Yes, I do. I just can’t figure out why you’d want to do this work. It’s hard, dirty. Look, you’re covered in horsehair.”

  Stopping, she brushed hair from her clothing, and glared at him. “I happen to be very good at my work and I enjoy it. Satisfied?”

  “Okay, okay, forget I asked.”

  “Fine. May I finish this?”

  “By all means.”

  Moving her equipment to the other side of the horse, Raleigh started working on the gelding’s left foreleg. A few minutes passed. Dan tried not to be obvious, but he couldn’t keep from studying her rounded bottom and admiring how fine she looked in a tight pair of jeans.

  “You’re staring at my rear end when I bend over, aren’t you?” she accused.

  “Yes,” he confessed.

  Her head bounced up. “Well, stop it. Just because I’m in a compromising position doesn’t give you a license to ogle me.”

  “But the view is so appealing,” he teased.

  She glowered at him, her face shiny with anger. What would it take to make this girl smile? Was she always so serious? Did she ever laugh or have a good time? Momentarily, Dan diverted his eyes, but the minute Raleigh returned to her work, he allowed his gaze to stray back to her hot little body.

  Observing her was an enjoyable. She moved gracefully, effiecently, as if reluctant to waste any energy. Not an ounce of fat clung to her hard, lean muscles.

  “Such a good boy,” Raleigh cooed to the Thoroughbred, and for one startled second, Dan thought she’d spoken to him.

  “You talking to me or the horse?” he drawled.

  “I seriously doubt you have ever been a good boy,” she replied tartly.

  At a loss for a snappy comeback, Dan stroked Matt Dillon between the ears, and relaxed his hold on the bridle. The gelding took a step backward and flicked his tail, almost swatting Raleigh’s cheek.

  “Hey, you’re supposed to be holding him still.”

  “Sorry,” Dan mumbled, and tightened his grip. He felt like a chastised schoolboy. Why was he letting her get to him?

  “Two down, two to go,” she announced after completing the second shoe.

  Good. He didn’t think he could stand much more of this.

  “Do you need to take a break?” she asked.

  “Nope.”

  He blew out his breath through clenched teeth. What was this bizarre tug of sexual desire seeping throughout him? He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had stirred him this way without even trying. It had to be pure animal attraction. Chemistry and nothing more. The last thing he needed was in-depth involvement with some small-town tomboy.

  “Come here,” she said, stretching catlike.

  Dan jumped, and feared he might swallow his tongue. “What is it?”

  “Before I finish, I want you to see my handiwork.”

  He almost slid out of his skin and hustled to her side. She leaned over and lifted the gelding’s foreleg.

  His arm brushed lightly against hers. A fast, hot heat quickened his pulse rate. She smelled wonderfully of lemons, sunshine and horses. Blinking, Dan stared down at the neat row of nails embedded in Matt Dillon’s hoof.

  “Well?”

  “Looks good.” Dan nodded. He didn’t know much about the art of shoeing horses and he hated to look dumb.

  The sound of an approaching vehicle drew their attention. A battle-scarred work truck chugged to a stop and a bowlegged, middle-aged man got out.

  “Pe
te?” Raleigh asked.

  “Raleigh? Little Raleigh Travers?” Pete Grissom, Dan’s only ranch hand, dropped the feed sack he carried and opened his arms wide.

  Raleigh tossed her tool aside and launched herself into the older man’s embrace.

  Dan found himself curiously jealous. He wanted to wrap his arms around the irrepressible redhead. He shooed the thought. He couldn’t afford the distraction.

  “I take it you two know each other?” Dan asked.

  “You bet we do.” Pete winked. “Raleigh is my goddaughter, and the best farrier in Callahan County.”

  “It’s wonderful to see you, Pete.” She beamed, and the sight took Dan’s breath away. He wanted to make her smile like that.

  “You too, sugar babe.” Pete affectionately patted her back.

  “How long you been working here?” she asked.

  “Close to three weeks.”

  “Well, this is fantastic. I’m going to be working here, too.”

  That was saucy, and he admired her hutzpah. Dan pulled a palm down his face. He would like to hire her, but he just couldn’t afford her. At least, not right now.

  “I do have the job, don’t I, Mr. McClintock?” Untangling herself from Pete’s embrace, Raleigh turned to face Dan.

  Dan hesitated.

  “I’m tough. I can shoe as many as eight horses a day. Want me to shoe some more when I get done with Matt Dillon?” A note of desperation crept into her voice.

  “Well...” Dan stalled, trying to think of a gentle way to refuse her. Put a palm to the nape of his neck.

  “You’re not going to give me the job, are you?” She hands landed on her hips.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t say yes.”

  “Raleigh...”

  “It’s because I elbowed you in the gut, isn’t it?” Her shoulders slumped.

  “No, no.”

  She pressed her palms together in front of her heart. “I need the work, Mr. McClintock. I need it real bad. I’ve got a little brother to support and I don’t want to be a waitress or a secretary. I’m outdoorsy. I love shoeing horses. Please. I know I’ve got a sharp tongue, but I promise to curb it if you give me a chance. Please…” She whispered the last word.

  Oh, Lord, she’d cast him in the role of villain. But how could he possibly hire her? He was on a tight budget with every cent earmarked for something else, and he hadn’t planned on employing a farrier until just before the dude ranch opened.

  Shaking his head, Dan took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Miss Travers, much as I’d like to, I simply can’t hire you.”

  About the Author

  Lori Wilde is the New York Times, USA Today and Publishers’ Weekly bestselling author of 87 works of romantic fiction. She’s a three time Romance Writers’ of America RITA finalist and has four times been nominated for Romantic Times Readers’ Choice Award. She has won numerous other awards as well.

  Her books have been translated into 26 languages, with more than four million copies of her books sold worldwide.

  Her breakout novel, The First Love Cookie Club, has been optioned for a TV movie.

  Lori is a registered nurse with a BSN from Texas Christian University. She holds a certificate in forensics, and is also a certified yoga instructor.

  A fifth generation Texan, Lori lives with her husband, Bill, in the Cutting Horse Capital of the World; where they run Epiphany Orchards, a writing/creativity retreat for the care and enrichment of the artistic soul.

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  Did you love Brodie? Then you should read Truman by Lori Wilde!

  "MARRY ME, KATIE"When Detective Truman West rescued the beautiful bridesmaid in distress, he couldn't believe his eyes. Katie Prentiss had blossomed from a chubby schoolgirl into a very desirable woman. And that made her the perfect candidate for his latest undercover assignment. Katie insisted she owed him a favor, and Truman needed a no-strings "wife."He just hadn't expected how effortlessly--and wondrously--Katie slipped into the role, and into his arms. Nor had he foreseen the possessiveness that consumed him for this woman who wanted nothing less than forever.Question was: Could Truman be more than just a twenty-four-hour groom?

  Read more at Lori Wilde’s site.

  Also by Lori Wilde

  Texas Rascals

  Keegan

  Matt

  Nick

  Kurt

  Tucker

  Kael

  Truman

  Brodie

  Dan (Coming Soon)

  Rex (Coming Soon)

  Watch for more at Lori Wilde’s site.

  About the Author

  Lori Wilde is the New York Times, USA Today and Publishers’ Weekly bestselling author of 85 works of romantic fiction. She’s a three time Romance Writers’ of America RITA finalist and has four times been nominated for Romantic Times Readers’ Choice Award. She has won numerous other awards as well. Her books have been translated into 26 languages, with more than four million copies of her books sold worldwide. Her breakout novel, The First Love Cookie Club, has been optioned for a TV movie.

  Lori is a registered nurse with a BSN from Texas Christian University. She holds a certificate in forensics, and is also a certified yoga instructor.

  A fifth generation Texan, Lori lives with her husband, Bill, in the Cutting Horse Capital of the World; where they run Epiphany Orchards, a writing/creativity retreat for the care and enrichment of the artistic soul.

  Read more at Lori Wilde’s site.