Free The Trouble With Cowboys by Denise Hunter Page A

grandpa,” Dylan said in the quiet. “The last thing he ever gave me.”
    Now Annie understood his desperation to save the horse.Braveheart must feel like the last living piece of his grandfather. That was how Pepper felt to her.
    “He’s going to be fine. Going blind can be tough on a horse, but it’s not usually insurmountable.”
    The rain had slowed to a quiet patter, and Annie realized they’d been having an ordinary conversation. She didn’t know why that surprised her. Maybe she hadn’t thought Dylan was capable. Or maybe she didn’t think she’d ever drop her guard enough to permit it.
    “Well.” She grabbed her bag and stood, setting down the mug. “Thanks for the coffee . . . and the help.”
    He rose, towering over her. “Thanks for helping Braveheart.” His smiling brown eyes sucked her in, holding her hostage for a long beat.
    She cleared her throat and turned toward the door, suddenly eager to escape. At the door she gathered her boots and stepped into them. In her hurry she lost her balance.
    Dylan took her elbow, steadying her.
    “Thanks,” she said, straightening, happy for the extra two inches the boots gave her. Still, now she was eye level with the V of bare chest above his unbuttoned shirt.
    And he still had her elbow. She pulled away under the guise of hitching her purse onto her shoulder.
    “Thanks again,” she said, opening the door. “See you next Thursday.”
    “If not before.”
    She hustled outside, took the porch steps, and dodged raindrops all the way to her truck. As she turned the key in the ignition, she could still feel the imprint of his hand on her elbow.

Dear Boring in Bozeman,
               Sizzle is overrated.
    11
    F ounders Day dawned bright and sunny. The blue sky stretched from horizon to horizon, and the sun crested the mountains, bathing Paradise Valley with golden warmth.
    Annie tried to work up some enthusiasm for the festivities, but part of her had hoped for a rainy day that would give her an excuse to stay home and curl up with her worn copy of Pride and Prejudice . That the novel held more appeal than an afternoon with John wasn’t a good sign, but it was, after all, her favorite book.
    She and John attended the wedding reenactment of town founders Prudence and Joseph Adams, played by Shay and Travis. After the debacle year before last when the pretend ceremony had culminated in a real marriage—thanks to the absentminded PastorBlevins—the couple had agreed to play the parts one more time. The joke being, since they were already married, the preacher couldn’t possibly do any harm this time.
    Afterward they made their way to the town square. John had gone to fetch them lemonade, and onstage, the Silver Spurs did a sound check. The wedding reenactment behind them, the townspeople now poured onto the lawn like ants onto a crumb.
    “Annie, dear,” Miss Lucy called from a nearby lawn chair on the outskirts of the crowd. “Would you like to sit with us?”
    “Us” included Miss Lucy, her bingo brigade, and two of her handmade dolls. The women greeted Annie.
    “Hello, ladies. Thanks, Miss Lucy, but John likes to sit in the middle.”
    “Wasn’t it a fun day?”
    “It was. Your doll booth seemed busy.”
    “I sold twenty-two!” She perched the prairie-dressed dolls higher in her lap. “You haven’t said a word to the girls.”
    “Hi, girls.” Annie waved at the blank-faced dolls. “You’re, uh, looking festive tonight.”
    “They’re very partial to Founders Day.” She patted their yarn hair. “Not to rush you, dear, but you’d better claim a spot before they’re all taken.”
    Annie said good-bye and carried her blanket toward the middle of the crowd. She spread her quilt, claiming the last open spot, and sat down.
    Up front Sierra wrangled a spot close to the speakers, and Ryder helped her spread a quilt on the grass. Annie squinted at the blanket and pursed her lips. Her favorite quilt. Oh well, it would wash.
    Riley Raines