Montana Wrangler. Charlotte Carter
folded her arms across her chest. “One of them killed my sister.”
“Krissy did that to herself.”
If Jay’s comment was meant to make her feel more comfortable around Thunder Boy, or any other horse, it wasn’t working.
He patted the horse’s neck, pulled something from his shirt pocket and stepped up to the fence. “Here.” He held out his hand. “Thunder really likes apples. Why don’t you feed him a piece?”
Paige gaped at the quartered apple. “I don’t think so.”
As agilely as a gymnast, Jay boosted himself over the corral and landed beside Paige. “We’ll feed him together. Come on.” Taking her hand, he opened her fingers and placed the apple on her palm. “Thunder will be your friend forever. I promise.”
Ripples of panic swam through her midsection. “No, really.”
Despite her refusal, he put her open hand on his palm. His warmth, the feel of his wide callused hand beneath hers, seemed to transmit a dose of the courage she’d always lacked. The sensation spread up her arm, blocking out her fears and her good sense.
Thunder bent his head over the top railing toward her hand.
“Steady now,” Jay crooned, either to Thunder or Paige, she wasn’t sure which.
Thunder’s big lips parted, revealing huge teeth. Paige almost bolted. But the horse kissed her palm with those lips in the gentlest of touches, testing the apple, then lifting it into his mouth.
Paige blinked, studied her palm, which was still intact and looked small in Jay’s much larger hand. She met his blue-green gaze. “His lips are so soft.”
Jay’s mouth tilted at the corners. “Soft as...” His thumb caressed her palm. “As soft as your hand.” He’d lowered his voice to a deep, masculine timbre that rolled through his broad chest.
Still gazing into his eyes, she slowly withdrew her hand.
“I’ve got another piece of apple if you want to try it again,” he said, his voice tempting her.
“I, um, I have to call my boss.” As if Jay were a magnet holding her close, it took all of Paige’s mental concentration to move away from him.
“Another time, then.” He touched the brim of his cowboy hat.
“Yes. Maybe. We’ll see.” Breathless, her heart racing, she hurried toward the main house. It had to be the altitude that made her feel off-kilter. The cool, crisp mountain air. Clearly, as soon as possible, she needed to return to Seattle and sea level where she’d be able to catch her breath again.
* * *
Thunder Boy nudged Jay’s shoulder looking for another treat. He rubbed the horse’s velvety nose.
“Okay, boy, you earned it.” Chuckling a bit, Jay palmed his last piece of apple. “Thanks for not biting her.”
Thunder lipped the apple into his mouth and nodded his appreciation.
Jay had met few people who were as afraid of horses as Paige Barclay was. Even fewer who had softer hands or who smelled so sweet. Like a bunch of honeysuckle growing alongside the trail. Impossible not to miss the perfume after you’d ridden on by.
He’d felt her tremble when he had taken her hand. Was that from fear? Or from something else?
He climbed back over the fence and untied Thunder’s reins. His job was to check out the trail to Arrowhead Cove, see if it was clear of winter debris, fallen trees or washed-out areas. He wasn’t supposed to lollygag around thinking about a woman with soft hands and a fear of horses.
It would be better if he could come up with a way to make her realize she wasn’t a suitable guardian for a twelve-year-old boy who loved horses.
Not suitable for Jay, either. Every inch of Paige Barclay shouted she wanted to return to the city. She belonged there.
Mounting, he turned Thunder toward the corral gate.
As he walked his horse past the big house, he spied Paige’s footprints in the soft ground leading up onto the front porch.
That woman really ought to get down to the general store and buy a pair of boots suitable for walking around the grounds and stable at Bear Lake Outfitters. Those high heels she wore might look fine on her and were okay for traipsing around on plush carpet in a fancy hotel, but not out here on the ranch.
But mountain country was different. She needed to learn that. Or go back home.
* * *
She’d tracked mud clear across the front room.
Leaning against a wall, she took off her heels and stood in her stocking feet. Mud caked her shoes, ruining them.
At the very least she’d have to start using the mudroom. And find some more appropriate shoes—and clothes—for whatever length of time she’d be here at Bear Lake.
She walked down the hallway to Krissy’s room. Guilt and regret, mixed with a trace of anger, assailed Paige as she reached the closed-off bedroom. Sisters should be close. Best friends. Someone with whom to share hopes and dreams.
That had never been the case between Paige and her sister.
Had it been Paige’s fault? Or Krissy’s? Or both to some degree?
Perhaps it was the five-year difference in age that had made it so difficult for them to communicate.
Taking a deep breath, Paige opened the bedroom door. She imagined Krissy was there, playing a game of hide-and-seek as she’d loved to do as a child. Any moment she’d jump out trying to frighten Paige.
The fact that wasn’t going to happen ever again stoked an ache in Paige’s chest that felt like a red-hot poker.
She drew a painful breath and looked around. The room shouted that a determined tomboy lived here. One who was far from being neat and tidy.
A black-and-white striped quilt had been carelessly thrown across the double bed. Photos of horses, cowboys and western scenes covered the walls. Clothes had been tossed unmindfully on a maple rocking chair; shoes and boots were left where they had fallen.
Paige shuddered, comparing her pristine and orderly condo where she rarely left anything out of place with her sister’s living space. One thing was clear, they would have driven each other crazy if they had been roommates.
A few years ago when Paige had been visiting, she and her sister had gone shopping together in Missoula, the largest town around, two hours south of Bear Lake. Their taste in clothes was so opposite, the trip was pretty much a disaster.
Feeling like she was snooping, Paige opened the walk-in closet door. Granted she and her sister were built differently—Krissy with a far more feminine figure than Paige’s almost nonexistent curves. Still, there might be a pair of jeans that would fit and maybe boots.
The thought of wearing her sister’s clothes made Paige feel ghoulish, but she wasn’t going to be here long. Her finances were such that she didn’t want to waste a lot of money buying new clothes she’d probably never wear after she returned to Seattle.
The closet wasn’t any better organized than the room. Clothes were hung in random order, jeans next to silk blouses, sundresses stuck in wherever there was room. The closet floor was a jumble of shoes and boots and fallen garments.
Kneeling, she pawed through the pile of shoes. She found one red tennis shoe, only a half size bigger than Paige wore. Now, if she could only find the matching one.
When she uncovered that, she dug in to find a pair of boots that might work for her. After that she searched for jeans. The ones she tried on were a bit baggy, but they would do for the next few days.
Taking a deep breath, she looked around Krissy’s room. The thought of clearing out and disposing of all of her sister’s things knotted