Page 11 of Taming the Wild Cowboy

A flash of headlights in the rearview mirror caught her eye, and Mac was surprised to find that she was not the only person heading to the ranch at an early hour. Had Trev hired someone else? Someone with calving experience?

He had her phone number—obviously, since he’d ask her to buy calf paste—so surely, he would have told her if he was reneging on their deal.

Right?

You have no way of knowing that.

The car followed Mac’s truck over the cattle guard before peeling off to park next to the flatbed Ford in front of the house. Mac parked nearby and was relieved to see a small middle-aged woman climb out of the Subaru. She pushed open the door and dropped to the ground, pulling the plastic bag of calf paste out with her. A frigid wind blasted over her, lifting her still-damp hair, and Mac pulled up her hood after telling Raisin to stay in the truck.

“You’re the new hire?” The woman put a hand on her head to hold her knit hat in place.

“I am,” Mac said over the wind as she approached.

“Estelle,” she said with a warm smile. “You left while I was doing the upstairs yesterday, so I didn’t have a chance to say hello.” She held out a hand, which Mac took.

“I’m Maclyn.”

Estelle beamed at her before pushing open the door and stepping inside. “Look what I found,” she called cheerfully.

Trev looked up from where he was seated, pulling on his boots. “You’re early.”

“Wanted to make a good first impression,” Maclyn replied. “And yes, I got the paste.” She held up a plastic bag.

Estelle bustled around, hanging her coat and putting her lunch in the fridge. “Where’s his highness?” she asked Trev.

“Sleeping late. He was on calf duty last night.”

“Do you have new babies?”

“None last night. Wade brought the cows that were showing signs into the barn, but of course they’ve refused to follow through.”

“Women have their own timetable on these things.”

“Unfortunately.” Trev pulled his pant leg down over the boot top.

“Pssh.” Estelle waved a hand at Trev who grinned as he got to his feet.

Mac watched the exchange with interest. Now that she was working for the man, she was curious to discover what kind of guy he really was.

No. She wanted to know what kind of boss he was.

Trev shrugged into his coat as Estelle disappeared into the living room. He crossed the room to where Maclyn stood just inside the door on the wide, thick mat intended to keep snow and mud from being tracked into the kitchen.

“You’re not only early,” he pointed out. “You’re wet.”

Maclyn lifted a lock of still-damp hair, dropped it again. “Your observation skills are well honed.”

He met her eyes as he reached past her for the door handle, giving her an answering smirk that caused her to take unexpected notice. He waited until they were outside before he said, “About your horses.”

“What about them?” She was still working on the sexy smirk.

“You know that they can only stay at the fairground for a few days. Three. Maybe four.”

Mac’s stomach tightened. She’d hoped that the hard-to-read honor box sign was more of a guideline than a list of hard-and-fast rules. If not, why wasn’t it made legible?

“Wade used to be on the fair board. Something about liability and not wanting people camping on the grounds all summer long.”

A guilty flush warmed her cheeks. She’d totally planned to continue sleeping in her truck next to her horses and shivering in that shower every morning until her last paycheck came in. She could sleep in her truck anywhere, but her horses—