Free Wrangling the Redhead by Sherryl Woods

big fan of the golden oldies.”
    She stared at him blankly.
    “‘Good Golly, Miss Molly.’ Little Richard.”
    To her amazement, he sang a few bars in a low voice that seemed to linger over the part about how good she looked to him. His gaze never left her face.
    “I remember,” she said, her voice a little choked. He was doing it again—charming her, tying her up in knots.
    In the kitchen, she hurriedly sliced a couple of carrots into chunks, then followed Wade out the door.
    “Should I count this as a sign of respect that you’re letting me near your horse?” she asked as they reached the barn.
    “You wouldn’t have gotten anywhere near Midnight a second time if I hadn’t seen for myself that you know your way around horses,” he claimed.
    “I thought Grady ordered you to give me a chance.”
    “He did, but I would have fought him tooth and nail if I’d thought there was any risk involved to the horses. As it was, I was more worried about the risk to you. There’s a point when being intrepid and confident turns dangerous.”
    His words made her heart flutter. She’d had directors blithely ask her to dangle from the side of a mountain with little concern for her safety. Here was a man she barely knew who’d been truly worried about her getting hurt even when he hadn’t much liked her.
    “Thank you…I think.”
    “No problem,” he said, shrugging off the thanks.“Miss Molly’s still in her stall. She won’t leave it unless I force her.”
    Lauren took the hint and fell into step beside him as he approached the pretty little bay filly. She was a beauty, all right. Perfectly proportioned for her size, she had a coat that gleamed in the weak rays of sun filtering through the window behind her.
    “She’s beautiful,” Lauren said, then inched closer to the stall. “Aren’t you, girl?”
    The horse showed little interest in her or in Wade. She just stood there silently, head hanging. Even when Lauren extended a chunk of carrot on the palm of her hand, Miss Molly barely lifted her head to examine it. Finally, with little enthusiasm, the horse took the carrot, chewed slowly, then turned her back on both of them to poke her head through the open window and gaze at the pasture beyond.
    “What can you tell me about her?” Lauren asked Wade.
    “Like I said, I bought her at a sale in Cheyenne. She was a spirited little thing, and she was training well. Then we came here and…” He shrugged. “You can see how she is.”
    “Where were you before? What was it like?”
    “It was another ranch. The barn wasn’t half as nice as this one.”
    “A lot of other horses?”
    “No more than here.” He regarded her curiously. “What are you thinking?”
    Lauren hesitated to say. She was no expert in animal behavior. What she knew came from instinct and experience—but Wade was actually regarding her with genuine attention, awaiting her verdict.
    “Okay,” she said finally. “This may sound crazy, but could she be homesick?”
    A bark of laughter erupted before he could contain himself. “Homesick? She’s a horse, not a college freshman. Besides, she wasn’t in that barn all that long. How could she have gotten that attached to anything?”
    Lauren reacted defensively to the instantaneous derision in his voice. “It was just a thought. Ignore it, if you think it’s stupid.” She whirled around and left the barn.
    She was outside at the railing watching Midnight in the distance when Wade finally joined her.
    “I’m sorry,” he said gruffly.
    “For?”
    “I asked for your opinion. I had no right to make fun of it when you gave it.”
    “True,” she agreed.
    “So, let’s say you could be right about this. What the hell do I do? Move back to the other ranch?”
    “That seems a little extreme,” she said, grinning at the frustration in his voice. “Let me think about it. Maybe I can come up with something less drastic.”
    “I hope so,” he said, giving her another of those thoroughly