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I blink. “Joan? Thunder?”
“Nothing. Never mind,” the hellcat snaps. “I’ll fix the fence. Just get off my land, and don’t let him near my alfalfa again.”
I exchange a look with Shane. If this little thing is out here mending fences, I’m a horse’s ass. “I can help you fix the fence.”
Shane snorts, and Clint whirls, staring at me like I just popped a second head. I shift, hoping both of them shut the fuck up. “I can help you fix the fence,” I repeat.
“No!” she practically shrieks. God help me, she’s cute when she’s mad.
I lean forward, my elbows resting on my saddle horn.
“Listen. We got off on the wrong foot. My name’s Landon,” I say, ignoring Shane’s amused look and Clint’s aggressive glare. “This is Shane and Clint. We’re your new neighbors.”
Nora folds her arms but doesn’t respond.
“Storm is one of our stallions for our breeding operations. He’s a champion cutter,” I say with a wink. “If only he’d leave the fences alone, though, right?”
Nora raises her eyebrows. “You know, cutting horses are not named because they can cut physical objects, right?”
Her tone, which clearly points out that I am the stupidest person on the planet, makes me grin. “Well, this one cuts herds and wires all the same. New breed.”
Shane snorts, clearly holding in laughter, and Nora and Clint both glare at him.
“Let me help you mend the fence. Isn’t there a saying about good fences and good neighbors?”
“It’s implied that keeping your neighbors out of your sight makes the arrangement a good one,” Nora seethes.
“All the same. I was working on our fences earlier today, so I have some wire right here.” I pat the side of my saddle. It’s true; I had been out riding fences when Clint came on the radio saying that Storm was gone again.
We knew where to go. We’ve fished him out of the Foster property numerous times. No one is ever over here to witness. He likes the alfalfa hay they’re growing and mostly likes having it all to himself. Asshole.
“I’ll fix the fence,” Nora repeats stiffly. “You have your horse. Now go.”
Shane shifts on his mount until we’re in earshot. “Let it go, Lan.”
Fine. I pull back, giving her a tip of my hat. “Looking forward to seeing you again. And what did you say your name was, Miss Foster?”
“I didn’t,” she barks. She watches us like she’s somehow going to have to run us off with a shotgun, old style. It’s how I know she does not currently have a shotgun on her. She would absolutely be chambering it right now if she did.
Slowly, Clint grabs both of our ropes and tugs Storm over to his mount. Docile as a kitten now, Storm acquiesces to being tied and then meekly follows as Clint trots back toward Wild Spur.
I’m the last one to go. I turn, giving Nora a little wink. “See you around, Hellcat.”
Before she can say shit about the nickname, I press my heels into Danger’s sides and trot off after the others. We make it just past the broken fence when we stop.
“Y’all head back,” I say, getting down. “I’ll be right here.”
Clint wheels around. “Do not fix that fence, Landon.”
I pause. “Why? What’s a fence between neighbors?”
“I don’t want that fence fixed. I want their whole fucking ranch!” he practically roars.
“Clint, why don’t you yell it a little louder so that the girl can hear?” Shane says quietly.
“It doesn’t matter. We’ve badgered Richard Foster plenty. He’s not going to sell,” I add.
Clint looks like he swallowed a lemon.
