Free Takin' The Reins by Stacey Coverstone Page B

important things to do with your time than to help a virtual stranger muck out stalls.”
    “You’re not a stranger,” he said. “I feel like I’ve known you all my life.”
    The admission floored her. Tingles coursed through her veins and flowed straight to her swollen heart. She found her tongue tied, unable to utter a word for a moment. “I… I… don’t know the first thing about horses or ranching,” she finally stammered.
    “That’s exactly why I’ll be over early. Be ready to work and learn. See you around eight.” With that, the phone clicked and went dead.
    A couple of hours later, after locking the door, checking the windows and flicking off the lights, Jordan slipped into her tee shirt and crawled into the squeaky bed. She lay there for thirty minutes or more, unable to get to sleep again. Her thoughts kept bouncing back and forth between Wyatt and Cole. Both were good men. She sensed that about them already. Both were outgoing, confident, and handsome. One was older. How much older? She wondered. The other was somewhat of a loose cannon. Physically, they were as different as night and day, but there was one thing the two had in common. If her radar wasn’t off, both seemed to be interested in her. What a change that was. She laughed out loud and pounded her pillow into shape with her fist. Oh, boy. It was going to be a long night.
     

 
     
    Chapter Seven
     
    The next morning, Wyatt parked his truck and trailer next to Jordan’s barn at eight on the dot. There she was, standing at the barn door looking fine in her tight Wranglers and a snug tee shirt that accentuated her shapely curves. There was a blue bandana tied around her neck and cowboy boots on her feet. The boots looked brand new, but he had to give her points for looking the part. His heart thundered at the sight of her. They’d only known each other two days, but the woman fired his blood—there was no two ways around it. Her mouth opened and closed, probably wondering what was in the horse trailer. He waved and she waved back. While stepping out of the truck, he eased on some leather gloves and jerked his head toward the trailer.
    “I brought a few bales of hay to tide you over. Where’d you get those fancy mud kickers?” he teased.
    She glanced down at her boots. “I’m from Colorado, remember?”
    “Yes, I recall.”
    “Don’t you think city girls wear boots? It’s the in thing to wear cowboy boots right now. Some women even wear them with dresses to work.”
    He smiled, gazing into her hazel eyes that looked green one day and brown the next. “You’ve probably never worn a pair of boots in your life until today. Did you get them at the Dollar Store in Alamo?”
    “Busted,” she admitted, returning the smile.
    “I won’t hold it against you. I like ‘em. They look good on you.”He couldn’t help but let his gaze rake up and down her perfect little body.
    “Well, thanks.” She rubbed her hands together. “I’m ready to get to work if you are.”
    “Then let’s start. After you.” He chivalrously let her step ahead of him, but his motives were anything but pure. As she sauntered into the barn, he watched her hips move from side to side. He’d always been a butt man, and hers did not disappoint. Jordan opened each of the stall doors, as he grabbed a pitchfork and shovel and dropped them into the wheelbarrow parked in the corner.
    “Where are your gloves?” he asked, thrusting the pitchfork at her.
    “Oops. I don’t have any.”
    “What kind of rancher are you, Jordan? You’ll get blisters and ruin your delicate hands and fancy fingernails.” He noticed her long nails were painted pink. He strode into the tack room and searched for work gloves. “I’m sure there’s a pair around here somewhere.”
    “I’m not so delicate,” she called out.
    “Pardon?” He stuck his head out the tack room door.
    “I said I may look it, but I’m not that delicate. I’m petite, but I’m strong. You’ll