Christmas with the Mustang Man. Stella Bagwell
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The remainder of the house was larger than the impression Dallas had gotten from the outside view. After they passed through a long family room and into a narrow hallway, it seemed like they walked forever. Or perhaps it only felt that way to Dallas because the two of them were alone and she was having all sorts of trouble keeping her gaze off of Boone Barnett’s backside.
Good grief, the long drive from New Mexico had done something to her, Dallas thought. It wasn’t like she was starved for masculine company. A woman couldn’t be starved without first getting hungry. And Allen’s deception had practically killed her appetite for romance.
Practically, but not completely. Dallas still dated on occasion and she’d not given up entirely on finding the love of her life. Giving up on anything that was important to her just wasn’t in her nature. But men and marriage were things she now viewed in a guarded, practical way.
At one point in her life, she’d planned for her work with horses to only be a part-time career, until she began the full-time job of being a wife and mother. Having a husband and children were the things she really wanted and once she’d gotten engaged to Allen, she was certain her dreams were coming true. She’d been certain of him and his love for her.
Yet she couldn’t have been more wrong. Only days before the wedding Allen had come to her with a confession. His desire to marry her had been motivated by his wish to be a part of the Donovan wealth, not by love. He’d told her that his conscience had prevented him from going through with the marriage. And, Dallas supposed, once their engagement had ended, it had been that same “conscience” that had sent Allen running back to an old flame.
Since that humiliating heartbreak, no man had made her heart go pitter patter. That is, until tonight, when she’d met Boone Barnett.
“We keep this room ready,” Boone told her as he opened a door to their right, “just in case someone needs or wants to stay a few days here on the ranch. Believe it or not, I’ve had a few people suggest I turn the ranch into a resort, so that people can come and enjoy the quietness. They don’t stop to think that once it became a resort there wouldn’t be any quietness around here.”
Glad that his voice had interrupted her tumbling thoughts, she said, “Back home, the Diamond D is so busy that sometimes the place feels like a minimetropolis.”
He carried her bags over to a double bed covered with a white down comforter. The feather-filled blanket sank as he placed the bags on the edge of the mattress. Dallas longingly imagined her body sinking into the softness and sleep temporarily blotting out her problems.
“Are your riding stables located on the family ranch?” he asked.
Her gaze drifted up to his face and suddenly she was imagining him lying beside her, his big hands reaching for her.
Startled by the erotic image, she quickly glanced away from him and swallowed. “Yes. But there’s a ridge of mountain separating them from the main working area of the ranch. So I’m out of the way and the seclusion lets the children pretend they’re riding in the Wild West.”
“Well, there’s no pretending needed here,” he said dryly. “This is the Wild West.”
Dallas would certainly agree. Ever since she’d arrived on Boone’s ranch she’d been having all sorts of wild thoughts and feelings.
He gestured to a door in the far right corner of the room. “There’s a bathroom with a shower. And feel free to use the closet or whatever else you might need.”
She said, “Thanks, but I doubt I’ll be here long enough to hang up my clothes.”
His mouth slanted to a vague smile. “I wouldn’t be too quick to say that. Pioche isn’t exactly overrun with mechanics and parts-supply shops. In fact, I just know of one.”
Even so, she wasn’t going to let that keep her stranded. Christmas was less than a week away. Back on the Diamond D decorations would abound in every room of the house and even extend to the horse barns, where large stockings filled with peppermints and licorice and fresh fruit would hang by each stall door for the horses to enjoy during the holiday. Parties would be held for the house staff, ranch hands and office employees. Then later, family and friends would gather for rich food, warm drinks and lively dancing. Christmas was always the best of times on the Diamond D and Dallas had never missed being home for the holidays. Somehow, someway, she had to get back to New Mexico before all the merrymaking started.
Smiling with as much confidence as she could muster, she said, “Let’s hope the problem will be easy to fix.”
“With vehicles, you never know.”
Did she imagine it, or did his brown eyes momentarily slide from her face down the length of her body? Just the idea that he might be looking at her in that way sent heat crawling up her neck and onto her face.
You’re thirty-two years old, Dallas. Not eighteen. All sorts of men have looked at you “that” way. Boone isn’t any different from them. The difference is that you’re looking back.
“Uh…the room is lovely,” she said with a sudden rush. “I’m sure I’ll be quite comfortable.”
A quirk of a smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “Glad I could oblige,” he said. “So whenever you’re finished here, I’ll be in the kitchen.”
With that, Boone left the small bedroom and once he was out of sight a long breath whooshed from Dallas. Oh, dear, oh, dear, she silently moaned. The last thing she needed was to have a breakdown in the middle of nowhere and be forced to stay overnight in a stranger’s house, with a man who had enough sex appeal to curl her toes. And for all she knew, he was probably married!
But if her instincts were right, Boone Barnett wasn’t some woman’s husband. The house simply didn’t have that feminine feel about it. And he’d said that Hayley’s mother wasn’t around. That could only mean the woman had died or lived elsewhere.
Trying to ignore her tumbling thoughts, she slipped out of her jacket, grabbed a hairbrush from one of her bags and headed to the bathroom.
A few short minutes later, she entered the warm kitchen to see Boone placing plates and silverware on the table. As she walked toward him, he glanced up from the simple task to acknowledge her approach.
“I hope you can eat pizza,” he said. “We don’t always eat fast food, but today has been…hectic.”
“Don’t worry about me. I eat anything and everything,” she replied. She noticed only two plates on the table, and asked, “Won’t Hayley be joining us?”
“She mostly eats in her room. And I see three slices of the pizza are missing.”
So he and his young daughter didn’t usually gather around the table for an evening meal together, Dallas pondered. Was that what happened when there was no mother around to hold things together? Except for Boone, Hayley appeared to be alone. The idea bothered Dallas. During her childhood, she’d been swaddled in love and support from family. And over the years that hadn’t changed.
“Is your daughter the only child you have?” The question popped out of Dallas’s mouth before she could stop it.
“Yes. Her mother and I divorced when Hayley was only two.”
His statement brought Dallas up short. That meant he’d been alone for ten years or so! How had that happened? Even though the population in this area appeared to be scarce, surely there were young women around just waiting for a man to propose matrimony, especially a man that looked like Boone Barnett. But maybe one failed marriage had soured him, she decided. Just like Allen’s subterfuge had left her wary of men and doubting she’d ever find one who could really love her.
Trying to turn off her curiosity about this rancher, she watched him carry the pizza over to the table. “Is there anything I can help you with?” she offered.
“No, thanks. I can manage.” He pulled out a chair and gestured for her to take