Hank’s palm. A broad smiled creased the cowboy’s handsome face. Chuckling, he lifted his other hand to the back of the filthy animal’s head and began to scratch it consolingly behind the ears, his touch so obviously gentle and tender Ally wished she could experience it.
Apparently their trespasser felt the same, because it thumped its tail even harder.
Ally stared at the long creature with the drenched and filthy coat and unusually round middle. As she calmed down, she could see that the “savage beast” was actually a big, scraggly dog that had just been looking for shelter from the approaching winter storm. She knew she had just made a pretty big fool of herself in front of the ex- marine. Unfortunately, her fear, irrational as it might have been, was not entirely gone yet, despite the fact that their barn crasher was now putty in Hank’s large, capable hands.
Telling herself she would not give Hank McCabe reason to think less of her than he probably already did, Ally willed herself to take several deep breaths. Suddenly he turned his head to look at her. Although he didn’t speak, he seemed to be wondering why she hadn’t budged from where he had left her.
“How did you know that dog wasn’t going to bite you?” she asked eventually, hoping to turn McCabe’s attention to something other than her embarrassing display of cowardice.
“First, it was scared and upset, not rabid. Second, it’s a golden retriever.”
Her heart still pounding erratically, Ally discreetly wiped her damp palms on the skirt of her suit. “So?”
Hank regarded her with the ease of a man who was clearly in his element. “Golden retrievers are one of the gentlest breeds.” He beckoned her with a slight tilt of his head. “Why don’t you come over here and say hello?”
Ally swallowed and eyed the two warily. Hank continued to smile with encouragement. The dog lifted its big head and stared at her, considering.
The memory of another stray dog who had stared silently-then sunk his teeth into Ally’s ankle-welled up inside her, followed by yet another wave of uncertainty and fear. “She didn’t sound gentle when she came barreling out of the corner,” Ally pointed out, taking another reflexive step back.
Hank shrugged his broad shoulders in exasperation. “You startled her. This pretty girl didn’t know if you were friend or foe. You’ll both feel better if you take the time to make peace with her.”
Pretty? He’d called this filthy beast with the large jaws and wary eyes pretty? “And how would you suggest I do that?”
“Pet her. Talk to her. Show her a little kindness,” he said as he rubbed the dog’s head and neck.
Ally watched as the powerfully built retriever luxuriated in the massage. There was no doubt she was putty in Hank’s hands, but animals sensed when humans were scared. And right now Ally was full of fear. Grimacing, she hugged her arms to her chest, not about to let herself be made vulnerable in that way. “I don’t think so.”
Hank lifted an eyebrow. “I’d ask why not,” he replied drolly, “but it’s pretty clear you’re still as frightened of this big ol’ sweetheart as she initially was of you.”
His quiet disapproval rankled. “I don’t like dogs.”
Hank’s eyes sparkled with devilry. “Dogs
Ally gave him her most repressing look. “Very funny,” she snapped, more annoyed now than embarrassed. “I was bit by a dog that strayed onto our ranch when I was five. I’ve been leery of them ever since.”
Comprehension lent compassion. “That’s a shame,” Hank said sincerely, shaking his head in regret. “You’re really missing out.”
Still keeping a cautious eye on the suddenly docile creature, Ally remained where she was. She didn’t care how friendly the big mutt looked now-there was no way Hank was getting her to venture over there. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”
A car motor sounded in the drive behind them. Ally turned to see a Cadillac pulling up in front of the barn. An elegantly dressed, silver-haired man in a gray Western suit, and a Resistol hat emerged from the car.
“Expecting someone?” Hank asked curiously.
She nodded as the stranger strode over to meet them.
The short, slim man extended his hand and flashed a smile. “Ally Garrett, I presume? I’m Graham Penderson, of Corporate Farms.”
SO THAT WAS WHY Ally had arrived so early, dressed in a business suit, Hank thought, a mixture of disapproval and disappointment welling up inside him. She’d known she was taking the first step to sell the ranch that had meant everything to her mom and dad.
And now that Corporate Farms was involved, there was no doubt in his mind who would be the highest bidder.
Ally pivoted to face him, her expression as coolly commanding as her voice. “I take it you can handle this situation?” she inquired gesturing toward the filthy stray.
Hank lifted his free hand to tip up the brim of his hat. If she wanted him to act like the hired help, he’d do just that. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, putting as much twang as he could into the words, just to rile her, “I shorely can.”
Ally narrowed her eyes and smiled at him deliberately.
“All right.” She pivoted once again. “Mr. Penderson. This way…”
Hank watched as she led the slick representative toward the ranch house. They were inside the sadly neglected domicile less than two minutes, then walked back out-maps of the property in tow-and climbed into the older man’s Cadillac.
Hank looked down at the soaked, shivering dog cuddled against his side. “Well, I didn’t expect that, at least not today.” He rubbed some of the dirt off a fancy pink rhinestone collar hidden in the fur, which spelled out the first clear hint to the pet’s identity. “But I’ll deal with it. Meantime, what do you say we get you cleaned up?”
An hour later, Hank was kneeling in the big, old-fashioned bathroom upstairs, toweling off his canine companion, when Ally came down the hall.
She stopped in her tracks when she saw the mess of mud and hair and occasional spots of blood that had been left in the claw-footed tub, the pile of thorns and burrs heaped in the wastebasket.
It had taken some doing, but Hank finally had the animal in decent shape.
He noticed that Ally didn’t come any closer than the door frame when she set eyes on the golden retriever. “What’s that thing doing in here?”
“Getting a bath,” he said shortly.
Ally propped her hands on her slender hips and wrinkled her nose. “And that smell?” she asked.
“Wet dog and my shampoo,” he explained.
Ally studied the heap of wet towels next to the tub and made another face. “Ugh.”
Hank passed up the opportunity to reassure her he planned to clean everything. Instead, he leveled a matter- of-fact glance her way. “Where’s your pal Penderson?” he asked.
She tensed. “He left.”
Slowly, Hank got to his feet and braced his own hands on his waist. “Tell me you’re not selling to Corporate Farms.”
Ally flushed uncomfortably. “I’m not selling to anyone until I’ve had a chance to have the property appraised,” she told him quietly.
That made sense from a business point of view, he noted. “When is that going to happen?”
Her pretty chin took on a stubborn line. “A broker from Premier Realty in Laramie is coming out later this week, once I’ve had a chance to get the ranch house in order.”
Wishing she’d stop looking so damn kissable, Hank pushed his desire aside and forced himself to concentrate on the very important business at hand. “And once you know what the property is worth?”
Ally swept a hand through her sleek cap of honey-blond hair. “As in all competitions,” she replied, tucking the silky strands behind her ear, “the highest bid wins.” She let her hand fall to her side and regarded the retriever with a disgruntled frown. “I really wish you hadn’t brought him up here.”
“First of all-” Hank leaned past Ally “-it’s a
