Lone Star Refuge. Mae & Gwen Nunn & Ford Faulkenberry
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AFTER HER SUCCESSFUL meeting with Clint Cavender, Stella went shopping for horses. She wanted to purchase at least three to add to the two she owned, and she had some pretty good leads through her rodeo contacts. Calling on five different owners, she made offers on two mares that fit the bill perfectly. They were still young enough to work, strong-backed, but both were gentle. Not much fire in their bellies. Stella liked that, considering fire would be a hazard in her riding school. It was three o’clock in the afternoon when she returned home. She sent a text to Buster telling him her plans to pick up the mares that evening and asked if he’d get the stable ready. But, as she hadn’t heard from him, she decided to check the stalls before she changed clothes.
“What the heck?”
The last stall across from Vega was open, and Joiner Temple stood inside it. He was brushing a horse that looked as though he belonged on the cover of Stud magazine, and the horse looked as if he knew it. He snorted at her as she approached.
“Hi there.” The polo player grinned sheepishly. “How are you?”
“Uh, fine, thanks. But, what are you doing, exactly?”
His violet eyes flashed. “Brushing my horse. That okay with you?”
The thoroughbred seemed to glare at her but Stella held her ground. “Sure. I mean, I guess. Who told you to move your horse into this stall?”
Joiner stepped back, still holding the brush in his hand. He looked at her, then gazed off into the distance toward the goat pen. Buster.
Stella turned on the heel of her boot and stomped out of the stable. She found her father in the garden, tilling the ground. He shut off the tiller when he saw her.
“Hey, Pretty!”
It was usually hard for her to be mad at him for anything, but not this time.
“What is that horse doing in the best stall? Right across from Vega?”
He looked at her as if she’d grown horns. “Cooling off from a ride, I imagine.”
“I’ll cool him off.” Stella put her hands on her hips. “What were you thinking? I wanted to use that stall for boarding.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, darlin’, we are boarding. An Argentine Thoroughbred worth lots of money.”
“Why did you not consult me?”
Buster spat tobacco on the ground. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just bein’ a good host, which is more than I can say for you. Vega ain’t gonna get cooties.”
“I don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to, Prissy Britches. But if you don’t sit down and make some plans with your new ranch hand there may be lots more things you don’t like, because I intend to make him work to earn his keep.” Buster wiped the sweat from his forehead. “And if you don’t need anything done for the school, I could use some help in this garden.”
Stella shook her head. “Did you not get my text?”
“What text?” Buster fumbled in the pocket of his jeans, finally dragging out his phone. He squinted at the screen, then looked back up at her. “Oops.”
“Don’t worry about it. It will give me great pleasure to tell the polo player to get the stalls ready while I go pick up the horses.”
By the time Stella made her way back into the stable, Joiner was just closing the door to his horse’s stall. He turned and saw her standing at the other end, and for a moment they stared at one another, sizing each other up, as if they were about to duel.
Joiner made the first move. He walked toward her, and Stella tried not to notice the muscles that rippled under his sweaty white T-shirt. She straightened her spine.
“I’m sorry if there was a misunderstanding. I can move my horse if you want.”
Was he trying to shame her? Because it was working. “No. Keep him there. I’m sorry. I’m afraid we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.”
“I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes. I just want to live in the RV, work and maybe breed out my horse.”
Stella couldn’t help but crack a smile. “You want to live in the RV?”
“Okay, so maybe I’m a little desperate.” Joiner smiled back at her.
“Well, join the club. I’ve got to get this operation going, and it puts my dad and me in weird roles sometimes.”
“I hadn’t noticed any weirdness.” Joiner raised an eyebrow. He was baiting her, but she decided not to bite. “Listen, Joiner. We need to sit down and talk about what I want you to do for Star Stables but right now I’ve got to go pick up two horses. Could you get the stable ready for them?”
“At your service, Boss Lady.” He tipped his hat.
“Thanks. I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Any specific stalls you want to assign?”
But her back was already to him and she refused to turn to honor his question with a response.
* * *
AFTER STELLA, BUSTER and Joiner had the two new horses settled into the stable, Buster asked Joiner what he was doing for dinner.
“Alma—she’s my adopted mom—left some homemade tamales with me this morning when she helped me move into the RV.”
“Well, why don’t you save them? I’ve got some T-bones we could grill. It’s a nice evenin’.”
Why didn’t her dad just invite him to live in their house? Stella groused to herself.
“That’s really kind of you, but I don’t want to intrude.”
“You wouldn’t be intrudin’ at all. And I’ll let you do the dishes.” Buster winked at him. “Besides, that way you and Stella can have a chance to talk and hammer out some kind of job description.”
Even though her dad drove her a little crazy, and she wasn’t sure how to manage things with Joiner Temple, Stella had to admit that meeting was a good idea. That was all she would admit, though, even to herself.
She told herself, therefore, that it was simply good hospitality to make homemade lemonade, beer-battered bread, twice-baked potatoes and a fresh Caesar salad to go with the steaks; and also to whip up a homemade apple pie with vanilla bean ice cream and Mexican caramel sauce for dessert. If he was impressed with her cooking, well, so be it. That was no concern of hers....
JOINER CLEANED UP for dinner in the RV’s shower, which was about half the size of a British phone booth. Fitting his six-foot-two-inch frame in there each day to scrub off ranch grime was going to be one of the challenges of his new life. One of the many.
He bumped his head on the showerhead, which thankfully did have good water pressure, and rinsed the soap out of his hair. Then, squeezing himself out of the contraption and planting his feet on the hooked rug Alma had provided, he dried himself thoroughly and wrapped the white towel around his waist. His five o’clock shadow from yesterday was well on its way to becoming a full-fledged beard. If he didn’t want to join Buster on Cowboy Dynasty, it was time for a shave.
Joiner wasn’t sure what to make of Buster’s dinner invitation. A part of him was ready for some downtime, some rest and a little privacy. He liked people. But he wasn’t used to trusting them very quickly or easily. The benefit—or curse, depending on your point of view—of being Pap’s grandson. And while Buster seemed kind in his intentions, Stella was harder to read. One moment Joiner thought she hated him. The next she was almost friendly. Oh well, maybe tonight he’d at least get some clarity on the role he was meant to play on the ranch and in her riding school.
Besides,