Out Rider. Lindsay McKenna
Sloan joked, gesturing around his tiny office, “it’s better than being stuck in here in my telephone booth, don’t you think?”
Dev saw the laughter in his eyes, the wry curve of his mouth that made her go hot with longing. The man’s mouth was to die for. And she wondered what it would be like to kiss Sloan. His face was deeply tanned, with fine, feathered lines at the corners of his eyes, all proof of how much time he spent outdoors. Again, she felt that invisible sense of protection surround her. Bella felt it, too. The dog lifted her head, looking over at Sloan, who was putting all his papers into a drawer. So, Dev wasn’t imagining it. Yes, she felt safe in Sloan’s company. Maybe more than she should? Her heart liked being around this lanky farrier whose hands mesmerized her. Dev was sure if she told Sloan he had the most beautiful hands she’d ever seen it wouldn’t go over too well with him. Men didn’t consider themselves beautiful. She kept the remark to herself.
“How’s Goldy?” she asked.
“I got here at 6:00 a.m. and checked in on her,” Sloan said. “She was fine. I’m the one that feeds the horses stabled here. Goldy had finished her flake of timothy from yesterday and was more than ready for another one this morning. Why don’t you go on down and visit her while I finish up duties here? It’ll take me about ten more minutes. Then we’ll hitch up a trailer and load Rocky and Goldy, and then trailer them up to the first area where we get a lot of lost tourists.”
“Sounds good,” she said, rising. Bella was out the door first, as if knowing Dev was going to see Goldy. The dog tugged at her leash. Smiling, Dev knew her mare and Bella were the best of friends. She wondered where Mouse was at. Did Sloan leave him back at his apartment for the day?
Goldy had her nose pressed between the iron bars and nickered softly as Dev approached. Bella whined and leaped up on her rear legs, paws on the front of the sliding door to the stall, happily licking at Goldy’s velvety black nose. Dev positioned Bella at one side of the stall and like the good girl she was, she sat down. Bella knew when Dev gave a certain hand signal it meant stay and sit. Now, Dev could bring Goldy out and put her in the crossties to give her a brushing, clean her hooves, and the dog wouldn’t move from where she’d placed her.
Her heart lifted with silent joy as she led her buckskin mare to the crossties and hooked the panic snaps on either side of her red nylon halter. Goldy’s black mane had bits of cedar shavings in it, indicating she had lain down and rested at some point during the night. That was good, because two days of riding in a trailer was tiring for any horse. Grabbing her grooming kit from the tack room, Dev met Sloan on the way out.
“While you’re cleaning up Goldy,” he said, “I’m going to get the trailer hitched up.”
“Sounds good. Do we saddle them before putting them in the trailer?”
“Yes. But we’ll put the bridles on them once we arrive at the trailhead.”
Her heart wouldn’t settle down because Sloan had just given her an intent look. The sensation she’d felt was as if he was mentally photographing her. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but rather made her feel desired. And darned if her body wasn’t taking off and reacting favorably to that heated look. When he settled the Stetson on his head, it made him look like a cowhand, not a ranger. Trying to ignore her body and silly heart, she quickly cleaned up Goldy, who enjoyed all the attention.
They worked like a well-oiled team, which surprised Dev. She quickly saddled her mare and led her out of the barn, the bridle in her other hand. Rocky, the big gray gelding with the black mane and tail, was Sloan’s horse. He was a rangy horse like his owner, probably part Thoroughbred because he was a good sixteen hands high. Of course, Sloan was a tall man and needed a bigger horse than she did for her size. Rocky was just as placid as his master. Dev waited outside the barn, allowing Goldy to nibble at the grass poking up here and there. She liked to watch Sloan move. He was graceful in a masculine sort of way.
“How old is Rocky?” she called down the aisle.
“He’s ten,” Sloan replied, running a comb and unsnarling Rocky’s long, thick mane.
“Is he a USFS horse?”
Shaking his head, Sloan said, “No, he’s mine.”
“He’s a nice-looking animal.”
Grinning as he patted his horse’s long, slender neck, he said, “I’d like to think so. Can’t be a farrier and not be paying attention to the all-important conformation of a horse’s legs. He’s got near-perfect legs, but so does your mare.” He glanced in her direction. “Says something about your horse knowledge, Dev.”
Heat fled up Dev’s neck and into her face. She was blushing from his praise and the warm looks he gave her. Sloan finished grooming Rocky and unsnapped the gelding from the crossties. All the man had to do was lower that voice of his and Dev felt like he’d reached out and stroked her with one of those beautiful male hands. To say she was befuddled didn’t even begin to describe her body’s reactions to being around Sloan Rankin. He was amiable, genial even, but not being a flirt or trying to let her know that he liked her.
Dev was positive Sloan liked her. With a groan, she took Goldy to the trailer. Both doors were open and she led Goldy into her narrow stall and snapped her halter to the chain in front. Moving up to the compartment, she watched Sloan throw the halter lead across Rocky’s withers and cluck to him. The horse moved into the stall without hesitation and then stood quietly until Sloan got around to his side compartment to snap the lead to the trailer.
“That horse is used to hauling,” Dev said, impressed. Not many horses would just hop into a trailer without being led in by a person.
“Rocky doesn’t get upset about much,” Sloan assured her. “Kinda like me...” He stepped out and shut the door. Dev followed. She went to the rear and watched Sloan close and lock the rear barn doors.
“Ready?” he asked, meeting her gaze.
“Very. I’m excited to get out into these mountains.” Dev smiled a little, looking up at the massive peaks that were lined up in a row, north to south. “This is such a gorgeous place to work.”
“Sure is,” Sloan agreed, meeting her smile. “We’re going up to the Moose Lake area. Lots of tourists get up in that area and get lost. I have no idea why, but it’s a hot spot for us.”
Snorting to herself as she climbed in the cab of his truck, Dev thought Sloan was a hot spot for her!
As they drove northward on the main two-lane highway through the park, Dev couldn’t stop her curiosity about Sloan. She asked, “You have a sort of Southern drawl. Where were you born?” She saw him slant a glance in her direction and then return his attention to driving.
“I was born in the Allegheny Mountains of West Virginia,” he told her. “Place no one’s heard of, Black Mountain.” Opening his fingers on the wheel for a moment, he added, “Most people, when I tell them that, think I’m a hillbilly.”
Dev caught the amusement in the inflection of his voice. “Nothing wrong with that.”
He raised a brow. “No?”
“No. Why would you ask?” Dev felt him teasing her and she enjoyed watching the corner of his mouth curve upward a little.
“Curious as to how you would respond to the label.”
“Do most people catalog you because of it?” she asked. When he glanced at her, she saw thoughtfulness in his gaze. The man was easy to read. Unlike Bart Gordon, who always smiled, who always showered her with compliments, telling her how beautiful her hair was or how pretty her eyes were. It got so she hated to be in the same building with him.
“What does the word hillbilly bring up for you?” Sloan asked.
Shrugging, Dev petted Bella, who sat on the floor between her legs. “Actually, lucky, because they were born in rural parts of America. In more natural surroundings, rather than the big city or suburban areas.”
“And