Free Cowboys & Angels by Vicki Lewis Thompson Page B

her work in the windows of a gallery in Jackson. Naturally Dominique would make sure the ranch and its paint horses were shown off to good advantage.
    Elle lost herself in exploring the site, all the while picturing Trey there. She read the history of the place—how Archibald Chance had won it in a poker game during the Great Depression of the 1930s. The centerpiece of the ranch, a mammoth two-story log house with wings extending at an angle on each side, looked like something out of a movie.
    During the summer months, the ranch house opened its doors to disadvantaged boys, eight per season. They lived and worked on the ranch from the middle of June to the middle of August. An application form was available on the site.
    Elle found it significant that the charitable program was as prominent on the home page as the paints that were the ranch’s bread and butter. She didn’t know much about horses, but she could appreciate the beauty of the ones in the photos. One arresting image showed Jack Chance dressed all in black and mounted on a black-and-white stallion named Bandit.
    No doubt about it, there was something very sexy about a square-jawed cowboy sitting on a powerful horse. She mentally substituted Trey for Jack in the picture. Yum. She could picture him racing across a grassy meadow, leaning over the horse’s neck, his body in tune with the fluid motion of the horse.
    She wouldn’t ever see that, of course. She’d be in Argentina during the months that Trey could conceivably be riding the range doing his cowboy thing. They’d be thousands of miles apart, their short fling forgotten.
    Maybe he’d find a cowgirl at that bar Jared had mentioned in the little town of Shoshone, near the ranch. She couldn’t remember the name of the bar, so she typed Shoshone into Google and found it. The Spirits and Spurs was owned by Jack’s wife, Josie, who’d also been on the bunny slope today. The bar, more than a hundred years old, got its name from the ghosts who haunted the place—miners and cowhands who’d bought drinks there for generations.
    Even though she kept reminding herself that she would never set foot in the bar, she was intrigued. It also provided live music every night during the summer, another feature she wouldn’t be able to enjoy. Trey probably played there, at least once in a while. She was sure that whenever he performed, he would attract the attention of both local girls and tourists passing through.
    Did that knowledge bother her and make her jealous? Hell, yes. She had absolutely no right to be jealous of whoever caught his fancy, but the thought of Trey getting jiggy with another woman was decidedly unpleasant.
    She’d have to work on that reaction. She couldn’t very well plan to have a casual fling with the man and then expect him to be celibate for the rest of his life because he’d be spoiled for anyone else. Unfortunately, she was a little worried that she might be spoiled for anyone else after the incredible sex they’d had and promised to have again.
    As if thinking about that activity prompted it, her cell phone pinged with an incoming text. She grabbed her phone eagerly. Winding down. Should be about 10 min. Will text when on my way.
    Heat swirled through her. She thought she’d been calmly waiting for this text, but apparently not. The phone shook in her hand as she tried to reply with a simple OK, see you soon . She took a deep breath and managed to punch the right letters.
    Now what? She had the sudden urge to take a quick shower. And shave her legs. She accomplished that in record time. As she dried off and lotioned up, she thought about what to wear. Nothing too revealing and sexy. Although that would be fun, she’d be walking the halls, where she might meet people.
    But she certainly didn’t have to put on underwear. Finally, she settled on jade-green yoga pants and a matching sweatshirt. Easy on, easy off. She got hot again thinking about that. She had some slip-on running shoes