And hope shot up again. He could tell by her smirk she knew exactly the roller-coaster ride she had him on. “You’re just being mean,” he accused.
“You have no idea. You like whips?”
He laughed out loud, exhilaration and anticipation thrumming through his body. “Depends on how you use them.” He looked past her to see Alejandro and Uno leading the horses toward the loading ramp. “We’ll talk more about that later.”
* * *
After an easy three-hour drive, Dalton turned under an elaborate, black ironwork arch bearing the sign RENFREW TOP SIX RANCH, one of the finest of Parker County. The Renfrews had been longtime friends of Raney’s parents and were highly respected in the horse business. Good people to know. If things went well, Bud Renfrew could be a powerful advocate for Dalton.
When they passed the corrals, she saw Press Amala leaning against the rails, talking to several trainers she had seen at local shows, and a few other men she suspected were owners of other horses here for the pre-work. Press nodded as they drove by. The other men turned to watch, gazes flicking from the Whitcomb Four Star Ranch logos on the sides of the truck and trailer to the buckskin face looking out the stall window.
Dalton smiled and gave a two-fingered wave as they drove on toward the big-rig parking area behind the arena. “See that?” he said to Alejandro, who was sitting with Uno in the backseat. “Lined up like groupies at the stage door, waiting for the star of the show.”
“Kind of cocky, aren’t you?” Raney teased.
He feigned innocence. “I was talking about Rosco, not me.”
“Una y las mismas,” Alejandro said. One and the same. “Both horse’s asses.”
“Now, boys, play nice,” Raney scolded, trying not to smile. Apparently, exchanging verbal insults was the way guys showed affection for each other. Not something she and her sisters did. Women were more into quick jabs of sarcasm, nonverbal smirks, and eye rolls. She was glad Uno didn’t take any of it seriously.
Bud Renfrew was in the lot, welcoming newcomers. After directing Dalton to a parking spot, he walked over to meet Raney as she climbed out of the truck. “Welcome to Top Six,” he said, extending his hand. “Glad you could make it.”
Raney shook his hand. “Glad to be here, Mr. Renfrew. Thanks for asking us.”
“You know better than that, Raney. Call me Bud.” He chuckled, adding, “And your mama said I’d better include you. She’s got high hopes for your trainer and the colt he’s been working. Amala, too. Said the two of them were a force to reckon with.”
“Let’s hope.” Raney turned, saw Dalton, Alejandro, and Uno walking up and introduced them to Bud. They chatted for a moment, then at Dalton’s nod, Alejandro and Uno went to the back of the trailer to drop the ramp.
Bud watched them unload the horses, motioning to the big barn beside the arena. “You’ll find open stalls in the barn,” he told them. “Take your pick.”
He studied Rosco with a practiced eye as Alejandro led him away. “Nice colt.”
“He does all right,” Dalton allowed.
Masters at understatement. No smack talk in these elevated circles.
“Well.” Bud hitched his sagging jeans and turned back to Raney. “Y’all settle in, then come on up to the house. Marilyn’s got drinks and itty-bitty snacks set up on the back porch. You staying in the trailer or up at the lodge?”
“The lodge,” Raney answered. “I’ve already booked our rooms.”
“Good girl. I told Cattleman’s Steak House to expect a crowd for dinner. Best go early to get a table. See you up at the house.” With a backward wave, he walked over to another rig just pulling in.
“Nice guy,” Dalton said, watching the bowlegged man walk away. He looked around at the arena, the outsized barn, the ironwork gates. “Nice place, too. I’m in high cotton for an ex-con.”
“But not for a premier cutting horse trainer,” Raney countered. “What say we get unloaded and go have us some itty-bitty snacks? I’m starved.”
Mama was right. The socializing was fun. And Dalton was surprisingly adept at it, considering his rocky return to the social scene at Harley’s Roadhouse. Maybe because, for these owners and trainers, this was more than simply mingling with friends. It was business. And a very competitive business, at that.
Dalton handled it with poise, projecting confidence as well as modesty, all with that disarming grin that brought ladies, young and old alike, flocking to his side.
As soon as he finished his dinner at the steak house, Dalton went to check on the horses, and Alejandro and his son. Raney stayed awhile longer—just for appearances. In actuality, she was chomping at the bit to get back to her room at the Pair-O-Dice Lodge. She had plans. And a seduction to perform.
She needn’t have been so anxious. Seducing Dalton was even easier than she had imagined. All she had to do was take off her clothes and get into the shower. Ten minutes later, he arrived, using the extra key she’d given him, and took it from there.
She’d never enjoyed a shower more. But after thirty minutes, fearing if they stayed in too long they would empty the lodge of hot water, they dried off—which was also a lot of fun.
Then between one heartbeat and the next, the mood changed from playful to solemn. Still wet from the shower and wearing nothing but their damp towels, Dalton reached out and framed her face with his big, rough hands. “Raney,” he said. “Sweetheart. What are we doing here?”
A dozen snappy answers rattled through her brain. But none left her mouth.
When she didn’t answer, he said, “I swore to myself I wouldn’t do this until the Futurity, or until you said you were ready.”
“And I swore to myself I wouldn’t let you until the Futurity or until I was sure I was ready.” Raney hated feeling so out of her depth. This was Dalton. They’d seen each other naked. So why was she feeling
