Page 60 of Taming the Wild Cowboy

She shrugged into her jacket while Raisin danced in front of the door, excited about a new adventure. Maclyn hesitated before leaving the safety of the foreman’s house, wondering if she was going to bump into Trev before she was mentally prepared.

One-night stands were not supposed to be this confounding. Obviously she’d done something wrong.

Yeah. You did. You fell for the guy.

Her phone dinged in her pocket. She went still, then pulled it out, her stomach knotting when she saw that it was a message from Mike Hersey. She opened the message, read it, then told herself it was exactly the result she’d expected before dropping the phone back into her jacket pocket.

So why was she disappointed?

Because a job at Dawson Meadows Arena would have given her an easy out from her current predicament.

Well, that wasn’t going to happen. Mac’s jaw tightened.

Maybe it was frustration. Maybe it was desperation. Or again, maybe she had no fucks left to give. The idea of confronting Brooke was now a full-fledged mission. That woman had screwed with her one time too many.

*

Maclyn arrived at the Dawson Meadow Arena a little before noon. She assumed from the cars and trucks pulling out of the lot that a class had just ended, but the sports car she’d seen Brooke getting into the day of her interview was still parked near the stables.

Maclyn approached the office and peered through the window in the door. The lights were off, and the room was empty. A teenage girl led a horse past the office and Maclyn asked if she’d seen Brooke around.

“I think she’s in the arena.”

Maclyn thanked the girl and headed to the indoor enclosure the girl had pointed at.

She found Brooke inside grooming a stately Friesian tied to the rails, so focused on a tangle in the mare’s thick mane that she didn’t look up until Mac was only a few feet away. When she realized who was approaching she stepped back, putting a hand to her chest.

“Surprised?” Mac asked.

“I …”

“Haven’t had time to prepare remarks?”

Brooke stroked the mare’s mare, but kept her mouth stubbornly shut, as if by not talking, the matter would go away.

“I assume that you’re the reason I got the polite rejection this morning?”

“We had other qualified candidates.”

“None of whom knew any secrets about you.”

Brooke shot a look toward the arena where Mike was busy helping a young rider. Her expression remained set as she then met Maclyn’s gaze. “I’d like to discuss this at another time.”

Maclyn folded her arms as she tilted her head. “Some vague to-be-arranged time and place in the uncertain future?”

“No. Something definite.” The Friesian, sensing the energy between the two women, moved nervously, but Brooke stilled the horse with a touch. Her charm worked on all creatures great and small—until it didn’t. Mike was approaching now, walking slowly next to a boy leading a Welsh pony. “Where are you living?”

Maclyn had given her post office box as her address on the application. “A ranch outside of Marietta.” She didn’t mention Trev’s name, because why?

“Remember that bar we celebrated in after the Copper Mountain Rodeo the year you won the barrel racing?”

“Grey’s Saloon.”

“I’m driving to Wyoming to look at a horse. Could we meet there?”

“When?”

“Day after tomorrow. I’ll text you the time.”