“Oh, baby.” He pulled her close, his big body wrapping around her. Protective. Asking nothing, giving everything. Making her feel safe and cherished and connected in a way she hadn’t since Daddy died. After a few moments, his voice rumbled through his chest. “I’m sorry he hurt you.”
“He didn’t. Not really. It was doubting myself that hurt more.”
“Maybe I should go punch him.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t.” She gave a shaky laugh and pulled back. Dalton always knew what to say to make her feel better. “But thanks for the offer.”
Hands clasped, they walked through the gate into the backyard. “I hear he’s not doing well. After we split, Mama suggested he move to another company. Which he did. Since then, he’s been spending more than he makes and living like a rich man. Probably looking for a new cash cow to pay for it all.”
“That seems harsh. I sure never thought of you as a cow.”
She let go of his hand to poke him in the side. “I was going to fix you lunch, but after that remark, I don’t think I will.”
“That’s okay. Maria will do it. She likes me.”
“Don’t we all.”
When they went up the veranda steps, Raney saw Joss stretched out on a chaise, a half-finished plate of Dalton’s favorite cookies perched on her baby bump. “What were y’all doing in the car all this time—as if I can’t tell, as sweaty as you are. But never mind. Who likes Dalton?”
“Maria,” he said. “Are those my cookies, Buttercup?”
“They’re for the baby, Mr. Fancy Pants.”
“Then why are you eating them? And why this sudden interest in my pants?”
Joss ignored him and said to Raney, “It seems Mama likes Dalton, too.”
Raney didn’t trust that sly look. “Why do you say that?”
Plucking a cookie off the plate, Joss took a bite and chewed thoughtfully, dragging it out for all it was worth. She finally swallowed and said, “She thinks we need protection. She’s decided he should stay in the house while she’s gone. In the downstairs guest room,” she added, with a meaningful glance at Dalton.
He grinned back. “Sounds like a plan.” He reached for a cookie.
Joss batted his hand away.
“She didn’t say anything to me,” Raney argued, sensing a trap but not sure who had set it. Having Dalton under the same roof would be troublesome. And tempting. And she didn’t think either of them was ready for that next step. Yet.
“She texted me right before her plane took off. She also wants Dalton to promise he won’t go upstairs unless he hears gunshots. And there’s to be no . . . what were the words she used? Oh, yeah. Hanky-panky. I don’t know what panky means, do you? Seems hanky-spanky would make more sense.”
“I hear gunfire, I’m sure as hell not going up. I’ve seen your sister shoot.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Raney burst out. “We’ve got a half-dozen guys within shouting distance and I have a Glock next to my bed. Does she think with her gone, there’ll be a stampede of rapists breaking down the door?”
Joss shuddered. “Lord, I hope not. I’m pregnant.”
“Your mom’s right,” Dalton said to Raney, his green eyes alight with laughter. “I think it would be best if I stayed here at the house. For protection.”
“And in the downstairs bedroom,” Joss added.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
“Great. I’ll go get my stuff while Maria fixes lunch.”
* * *
Later that afternoon, Raney saw Press Amala’s truck and horse trailer go past the office window. Anxious to see this new addition to their growing stable of outstanding quarter horses, she set aside her paperwork and hurried to the barn.
By the time she arrived, Dalton was unloading the mare. She was a beauty. A flaxen chestnut with three white stockings and a white blaze that stretched from the middle of her forehead to her pink nose. Her confirmation was as square as it gets, deep in the chest and muscular in the haunches. Her demeanor seemed calm but attentive, her eyes bright with curiosity. She would definitely be an asset to Four Star, whether she could ever be shown again or not.
“She’s beautiful, Press.” Raney extended her palm for the mare to sniff. “I can’t wait to try her out.”
“Just be careful the first few times you take her into the pasture,” the old man warned. “She had great training back when. She sees a cow, she might zig while you zag. Happened to me a time or two.”
“I’ll put her in the arena for now,” Dalton said. “Let her get used to the place.”
Raney watched him lead her away, liking how the horse moved and the way her blond tail swayed side to side with every stride. Dalton moved nice, too—that swagger again. It was a joy to watch both of them. “I can see why she’s named Sassy,” she told Press.
“She’s a good horse.” He secured the trailer door and walked with Raney to the front of the truck. “I’m glad you took her. You’ll treat her right.”
“You can count on it. You’ll stay for supper?”
“Can’t. My daughter’s helping me pack. The new owners come next week.”
“So soon?”
“It’s time.” He grinned, showing gaps where teeth used to be. “And time I got to know my grandkids better. What a pair of hellions. Reminds me of you and your older sister back in the day.”
“I’ll miss you.”
“Don’t. I’ll still be around. But you can tell your mama good-bye for me.” A faraway look came into his faded gray eyes. “A real chingona, your mama. We had us some good times, damned if we didn’t. And Charlie, too, of course.”
Raney could imagine. Daddy often said Mama was broke to saddle, but had never accepted the bit. Raney didn’t understand what he meant until years later, and it was several years more before she stopped getting the heebie-jeebies whenever she thought of it.
Press opened
