Page 82 of Wild and Wanted

‘Do I wish that I could wrap them both in bubble wrap and send them both to work in a nice airconditioned office? Yes. Was I worried every day they were on the circuit that I’d get a phone call about a terrible fall? Yes. And when that happened with Clay, I went through hell blaming myself for letting him get on the back of a horse, for teaching him to ride. But out here?’

She looked around at the sun-drenched landscape stretching beyond the yards, emotions flickering across her face as if she could see Clay and Mags as kids chasing after each other in the distance.

‘Everybody pitches in, so everybody rides. So it was about teaching them how to be safe and trusting in them that they knew their limits.’

Stevie nodded. ‘I guess. It just looks so… risky.’

‘Sure, but’ – she shrugged – ‘life’s a risk. And sometimes’ – Theresa’s smile was indulgent as her eyes landed back on Stevie – ‘the biggest risks pay the biggest rewards.’

Stevie wasn’t sure if there was a double meaning behind her words, but someone called her name from behind and Theresa looked over her shoulder and said, ‘Coming.’ But not before she gave Stevie’s legs a pat. ‘It’s been so nice having you here, Stephanie,’ she said. ‘Don’t be a stranger.’

She departed, and Stevie watched her go, trying to figure out if that was just a friendly compliment or a hidden message. Whatever it was, it reminded her that she only had four days left on the ranch – her flight was booked for Sunday – and that was suddenly very depressing.

A couple of hours later, Stevie was in the central hall of the stables, rubbing down one of the horses that had not long come in from a trail ride. She always volunteered to do the chore, enjoying it immensely, the soothing motion of brushing their hides almost meditative.

‘Hey,’ a low male voice purred in her ear, and she turned to see Clay standing behind her, a dappled grey horse in tow. She’d been so immersed in the job and the tease of a lyric floating around in her head that she hadn’t heard him approach.

‘Oh, hey,’ she greeted breathily, her pulse doing its usual giddy-up at the sight of him in his jeans and plaid shirt and hat. Looking around quickly, she could see there were too many people to sneak a sly kiss. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Gregory here has thrown a shoe so I’m just stabling him for Ivan to do after the others.’

Stevie laughed at the name. The horse looked like a Gregory. ‘Why don’t you…’ He lowered his voice as he tipped his chin at the nearby stall. ‘…join me.’

She glanced at the open door as Clay smiled and clicked at the horse to follow him. Which was when Mags came bustling towards her. ‘Stevie, what are you doing?’

Guiltily, she dragged her eyes away from Clay, who had disappeared with the horse into the stall. ‘I’m brushing down the horses.’

‘Okay, stop immediately. Ivan is here.’

Stevie frowned. ‘Okay?’ She knew that Ivan was scheduled today and had heard his van pull up about half an hour ago. But why was that important?

‘To replace some shoes.’

‘Uh huh?’ She glanced sideways surreptitiously, one crooked index finger in her peripheral vision, motioning her over. And she knew which she’d rather do. ‘I think,’ she said, returning most of her attention to Mags, ‘I might pass.’

‘Oh no.’ Mags grabbed her by the shirt. ‘Trust me, you’re going to want to see this.’

‘Um,’ Stevie said as Mags yanked on her sleeve like she was actually going to drag Stevie outside whether she wanted to go or not. ‘Okay… sure.’

Clay grabbed his chest dramatically as she shot him an apologetic look over her shoulder. Suppressing a laugh, she followed Mags – who was moving at pace – outside. Whatever the fuss was, it had better be worth it because Clay Calhoun definitely had seduction on his mind and, bearing in mind his mother’s talk about risk, Stevie had absolutely been up for a make-out session with him in the stall.

It soon became evident when they arrived outside why Mags had been so insistent about Stevie seeing Ivan. She remembered the Ivan from those two nights at The Corral was a big guy, good looking in a rugged, broken-nosed, bar fight kinda way, and didn’t say a lot. But, today, in his jeans and a leather apron – no shirt – the sun glinting off huge tanned biceps and shoulders the size of ham hocks as he stood hunched over a horse’s hoof, he was quite the spectacle.

And had drawn quite a crowd. He wasn’t saying anything but then, he didn’t need to…

‘Oh my,’ Stevie muttered under her breath. She may be totally into Clay Calhoun but she was still a woman. With a pulse. And farrier Ivan was a shot glass of testosterone.

‘What did I tell you,’ Mags murmured. ‘Aren’t you pleased you’re seeing this?’

Hell yes. Another big plus for ranch life. ‘Wait…’ Stevie frowned. She’d thought that Mags was into Dev? And vice versa. Even if the two of them seemed determined not to notice. ‘Do you fancy him?’

‘What?’ Mags looked at her like she’d lost her mind. ‘Of course not. The man barely speaks. But I have eyes, don’t I?’

She did. And so did Stevie – praise the Lord.

‘Hmm mmm,’ someone said from behind. ‘Now that is a fine figure of a man.’

With a prickling scalp, Stevie turned slowly around. ‘Mom?’