Home To Blue Stallion Ranch. Stella Bagwell
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Lord, was there nothing she missed? “I always eat fast. Otherwise, I might not have the chance to eat at all. If you’re finished with your coffee, we’ll go have a look at the horses.”
Smiling faintly, she leaned forward and gracefully placed her cup on the edge of his desk. “I’m ready any time you are.”
Rising from the desk chair, he pulled on his jacket and buttoned it up to his throat. By then, she’d gotten to her feet and fastened the hood over all that white-blond hair and pulled on a pair of fuzzy black mittens. She looked as sweet as Christmas candy and as fragile as a sparrow’s wing. How could this woman ever manage to work a horse ranch?
That’s none of your concern, Holt. All you need to do is keep your mind on your job and off the way Isabelle Townsend looks or sounds or smells. She’s not your type. She never will be.
Shoving away the mocking reminder in his head, he gestured toward the door. “You’re welcome to look at the mares and babies here in the barn, but none of them are for sale. Anything I might be willing to part with is outside.”
“I’d love to take a leisurely look. But you’re just as busy as I am. Let’s just head on outside.”
Her response should have pleased him. The quicker he could get this meeting over with, the better. Yet he had to admit a part of him had wanted to show her some of the fine babies his mares had delivered in the past few days. Like a proud dad, he would’ve enjoyed sticking out his chest and preening just a little. But she wasn’t going to give him the chance.
“Fine,” he said. “We’ll exit the barn on this end.”
* * *
Outside the building, she followed him over to a ten-acre patch surrounded by a tall board fence.
“This is where I keep the mares that have two or three weeks before foaling,” he told her. “When they start getting to that point in their gestation, I like to keep a closer eye on them.”
“Do you have a resident vet here on the ranch?”
“My older brother Chandler is the vet,” he told her. “If something comes up that I can’t handle, he’ll come running.”
“I’m just now putting two and two together,” she said thoughtfully. “He must run the Hollister Animal Hospital. Does he live here on the ranch, too?”
Her question reminded Holt that he and his baby sister, Camille, were the only Hollister siblings left who didn’t have a spouse and children. As for Camille, he couldn’t speak for her wants and wishes, but on most days Holt was happy he was still footloose and fancy-free. There were too many women in the world to waste his life on just one.
“Yes, with his wife, Roslyn, and baby daughter, Evelyn.”
A bright smile suddenly lit her face. “Oh, so there’s a baby in the house. How nice.”
“It’s nice and noisy. There are three babies in the house. Blake has twins.” Curious, in spite of himself, he glanced at her. “Do you have children?”
To his surprise, a pink blush appeared on her cheeks. “No. Trevor wasn’t the type for fatherhood. But I’m hoping I’ll be a mother someday. What about you—do you have children?”
He chuckled. “Not any that I know of.”
She didn’t reply, but the scornful expression on her face spoke volumes.
“I’m teasing,” he felt inclined to say. “I don’t have any children. And I don’t plan on having any. I have plenty of four-legged babies to keep me happy.”
She cut him another dry glance. “At least you know to stick to your calling.”
If any other woman had said such a thing to him, he would’ve laughed. But hearing it from this blond beauty was altogether different. For some reason, it made him feel small and sleazy.
“At least I know my calling,” he agreed. “Do you?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Suddenly Blake’s voice was back in his head, reminding him to be nice to Isabelle. But damn it, Blake wasn’t the one dealing with the woman. Holt was. And with each passing minute, she was getting deeper and deeper under his skin.
“I’m wondering if you’ve really thought about what you’re taking on. Raising horses isn’t an easy job.”
“If it was easy, it wouldn’t be rewarding, now would it?” she asked. “And I know all about hard work.”
The sweetness in her voice was overlaid with conviction and Holt decided she was one of those stubborn females who’d rather die trying to prove a point than admit she might be wrong.
They reached the paddock and he opened a wide gate so the two of them could walk out to where the mares were munching hay from rows of mangers.
As they neared the horses, Holt pointed to one in particular. “I have one mare in this bunch that I’d be willing to part with and that’s Blossom, the little chestnut over there with the star on her forehead and snip on her nose. She’s made perfectly, I’d just prefer her to be a tad bigger. She was bred late—in May to be exact, so she should have a late April or early May baby.”
“I’ll go take a look.”
They walked over to the mare and as she approached the horse for a closer look, Holt opened his mouth to remind her to be cautious, but instantly decided to keep the warning to himself. If Isabelle knew so much about horses, he shouldn’t have to tell her a thing. This might be a good way to find out if she was the real deal or a woman with money and her head in the clouds.
Five minutes later, Holt had his answer. Blossom had not only forgotten the hay in front of her, she was nosing up to Isabelle as if they’d been friends forever. On top of that, the young mare had always been skittish about her feet, but Blossom had allowed Isabelle to pick up all four like she was a diva waiting for a manicure. It was amazing.
“She has a really nice eye and her teeth look good,” she said as she dropped the mare’s lip back in place.
“Chandler floats their teeth on a regular basis,” he said, his green eyes dropping away from her hands and down to her rounded bottom encased in faded denim. Yesterday he’d been too tired and annoyed to notice Isabelle’s perfect figure. This morning he was having trouble keeping his attention away from it.
She turned to face him and Holt jerked up his gaze before she caught him staring at her cute little butt.
“What sort of sire is this mare bred to?”
“The ranch’s foundation stud. He’s black and big boned. I’ll show him to you after we look at the other mares.”
She smiled and Holt’s attention was drawn to the alluring sight of soft pink lips against white teeth. And suddenly he was wondering how she would look naked and lying next to him with her hair spilled over his shoulder.
“I look forward to seeing him,” she said.
“So what do you think of Blossom?”
“She’s nice. But I need to see the others before I make any kind of decision. Okay?”
Another smile softened her words and Holt felt his resistance crumbling like a shortbread cookie. Any man with half a brain could see she was a heartbreaker. But why should he let that put him off? He never made the mistake of letting a woman get near his heart. He enjoyed them for a while and then moved on. Isabelle was no different than the last beauty to warm his bed.
“Certainly,” he answered. “Let’s go find a truck and we’ll drive out to the horse pasture.”
* * *
Throughout the short trip to the pasture, Isabelle tried to ignore Holt’s presence in the cab of the truck, but the more she tried to dismiss him,