Kissed by a Cowboy. Pamela Britton
tried not to show his excitement. It wouldn’t do for Gordon to catch on to how badly he wanted to buy his horse.
Unbelievable.
That was how it’d felt being on Dudley’s back. It was as if they’d connected. A perfect pair. His yin to the horse’s yang. Magic.
But Gordon didn’t need to know that. Far from it. So he slipped off the horse’s back, gave him a pat and headed back to the barn. Something jerked him back. Dudley. The horse had grabbed his shirt.
“Hey.”
Dudley’s ears were pricked forward, mischief in his eyes. He even tossed his head as if silently saying, “What you gonna do about that?”
“He likes you.”
Wes just nodded, afraid to look into Jillian’s eyes. Afraid she’d see his thoughts somehow, which sounded insane because it wasn’t as though she could read minds. It just seemed that way.
“So do you want him?”
The question came from Gordon, but Wes just shrugged. He wanted him, all right, but the first rule of negotiation was to appear indifferent about the item you wanted to purchase.
“I’ll give you a really good deal.”
Now they were talking. Wes had to bite back a smile. “How good?”
They were walking between the parked cars and trucks, Dudley following meekly behind. The horse didn’t appear bothered by the vehicles searching for a parking space or the people walking to and from cars or the loose dogs that always seemed to accompany equestrian events. In the distance he could hear the sound of the announcer calling exhibitor numbers to people outside the arena waiting for their chance to work.
“I have to have at least five.”
Thousand? The man was off his rocker.
“Not going to pay that much.”
Wes glanced up at the sky, pretending an interest in the weather.
“Okay, so why don’t you make me an offer.”
He didn’t answer right away. Let the man sweat it. After the way he’d treated Dudley, he deserved it.
He walked all the way back to the barn area, then paused near the arena to say, “Where’s your stall?”
Wes knew perfectly well where it was, but he didn’t let Gordon in on the secret. He glanced at Jillian. She seemed amused. He knew in that moment that she understood the game he played.
“It’s over there. On the other side of the row of stalls there.”
The man pointed with his chin to an area with walnut trees. Wes headed in that direction.
“Look, I’m not going to accept less than three for him. He’s got the bloodlines to be successful at a lot of things.”
Wes stopped. Cowboy dropped to his haunches at his feet. “A winning sire doesn’t mean a hill of beans, especially since he’s a gelding, and especially since I won’t be using him for what he’s bred to do—reining.”
Gordon had begun to look more and more disconcerted. Wes waited until he was almost back to the man’s stall before saying, “I’ll give you twenty-two for him.”
“Done.”
The way the man leaped at the offer, Wes wondered how many times good old Gordon had been dumped on his rear. And maybe he’d made a mistake, but at least he wouldn’t be into the gelding for much.
“You won’t regret this.”
Oddly, Wes thought he might be right. “Why don’t you untack him? I’ll head back to my truck and get the money.”
“Sure. No problem.”
The man reached for the reins. Dudley backed away so fast it was all Wes could do to hold on to the reins. “Whoa there, boy,” he told the horse. Wes was certain the poor animal had been abused. “It’s okay.”
You won’t ever be struck again, he silently told the horse. He gently touched the animal and was rewarded by a dropped head and a softening of the animal’s eyes. When Gordon came up behind him, he slowly handed off the reins.
I’ll be right back, he assured the horse.
Jillian and Cowboy both fell into step alongside him. She didn’t say anything but once again he found himself reading her expression with ease. The woman was the classified section of a newspaper.
“Well?” she finally said when they were out of earshot. “What did you think?”
“I think he’s got great potential.”
She came off the ground, pumped the air with a fist, let out a woot. Cowboy took a few startled steps back. “I knew it!”
“Stupid son of a cuss doesn’t know what he has.”
“That’s because he’s a stupid son of a cuss. I know for a fact that the cinch was pinching him today. That’s why he bucked.”
“And how do you know that?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. He had a feeling she’d been about to say something but had fished it back just in time. “I could just tell.”
“Really.”
She nodded, black bob flicking forward. “Let’s face it. Gordon there isn’t exactly model thin.” She made a sound, something between a snort and a guffaw that reminded him of a seal barking. It nearly stopped him in his tracks. “Can you imagine having him on your back?”
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