Christmas With the Mustang Man Read online

  “I’d be making a pot whether you were here or not,” he explained. On his way to the cabinets, he caught sight of the cluttered table and instantly changed course. “Here, let me clear that away. Hayley’s not very good about putting her things in her room.”

  Dallas chuckled. “I never was a tidy child. My mother was constantly nagging me and my younger sister to put our things where they belonged. Our older sister never got nagged at, though. She was a neat freak.”

  Walking over to the table, he leaned across the expanse of worn wood to pick up the scattered items and his upper torso drew within inches of her arm. The subtle scents of hay, horses and sage drifted to Dallas’s nostrils before she instinctively stepped aside to put more breathing space between them.

  “So you have sisters,” he stated.

  Moistening her lips, she tried to calm the nervous bumping of her heart. “Two. And three brothers,” she answered. “I’m in the middle of the bunch.”

  After placing the books and backpack on a nearby rolltop desk, he returned to fetch the sandwich and soda can.

  “Well, Hayley doesn’t have a mother to nag her, so I have that thankless job. And from the looks of it, I’m not getting through,” he added with a grimace.

  Dallas didn’t make any sort of immediate reply. Since she’d never been a mother, she was hardly in a position to offer parenting advice. And without knowing exactly why his daughter’s mother was absent, she might slip and inadvertently say something he’d find offensive.

  Instead, she took a seat at the table and decided to slant the conversation in a different direction. “Do you have siblings, Boone?”

  Across the room, he began to put the coffee fixings together. “No. It’s just me. My dad lives in town, and that’s it.”

  The information only made Dallas wonder more. Why didn’t Boone’s father live here on the ranch? Did the man’s health require him to live closer to a doctor? she silently mused. Or maybe the elder Barnett just didn’t want to live out in the remote countryside. After all, not all families lived together in one big house, like the Donovans.

  “So your father isn’t a rancher?”

  Damn it, she was here to buy horses from the man, not make a documentary about his life, she silently scolded herself. But she couldn’t seem to prevent the personal questions from popping from her mouth.

  “My grandfather was a rancher. Dad never liked the work much,” he answered bluntly.

  Deciding it would be safer to talk about her own family, she said, “The Donovans have always raised horses—Thoroughbred racers. Lately my brothers have been tossing around the idea of putting a few cattle on the ranch or maybe a running line of quarter horses, but those are just ideas. Dad is retired…or should I say semi-retired,” she added with a fond chuckle. “So he mainly lets the guys run things the way they want to.”

  “Sounds like the place is a family-run operation,” he commented.

  By now he’d shut the lid on the coffeemaker and the pungent smell of the brewing grounds was beginning to overpower the pizza. After driving hours and hours since early this morning, Dallas was definitely in need of the hot brew to fight off the weariness threatening to overtake her.

  “It is. My grandparents built the Diamond D back in 1968 and most of the family still lives there together. Except for Grandfather Arthur, who passed away some years back.” She paused and then added, “I noticed on the road map that this ranch is located in Lincoln County. That’s the name of the county where I live.”

  “So you’re from the part of New Mexico where the famous range wars occurred,” he said thoughtfully. “And outlaws like Billy the Kid roamed the land.”

  Impressed by his historical knowledge, she glanced at him. “That’s right. What’s this Lincoln County known for?”

  He shrugged. “Years ago it was all about gold and silver strikes, brothels and lawlessness. Now the mines are dead. But the ranchers have hung on.”

  “And the mustangs,” she added.

  “Yeah. Thank God for the mustangs.”

  The big cowboy was looking straight at her now and Dallas was finding it extremely hard to tell whether he’d spoken with sarcasm or sincerity. He had very dark eyes that had such a piercing quality she could practically feel them sliding over her face and that in itself was enough to distract her. Not to mention the fact that he’d removed his black Stetson and his streaked brown hair had slid to a boyish bang across his forehead.

  He said, “It must get interesting at your house—everybody living together. Are you one big happy family or does that only happen in fairy tales or sitcoms?”

  Was he saying he didn’t believe families could live and love together? The cynical idea saddened her and put a hint of defensive pride in her voice as she replied, “I can truthfully say that ninety percent of the time we’re all pretty happy.”

  “That must be nice,” he said lowly.

  “It is nice,” she agreed. “Being with my family is everything to me.”

  He turned his back to her and reached up to retrieve two cups from a cabinet shelf. At the table, a pent-up breath whooshed out of Dallas. What was the matter with her? Living on a horse ranch, she’d dealt with all sorts of men before. This one wasn’t necessarily any different. Except that Boone Barnett looked a little sexier, a whole lot tougher and a bit more seasoned than most.

  So what if he was all those things? Dallas mentally argued with herself. After being dumped only days before her wedding, she’d learned to view men and their charms with skeptical indifference, especially men that she didn’t know. She couldn’t allow this hunk of male muscle to recklessly turn her head.

  Across the room, Boone filled two mugs with coffee while thoughtfully mulling over Dallas Donovan’s remark. Maybe this woman and her “nice” family were for real. But he had a hard time buying into the idea. The Barnetts had always been fractured in some unfortunate way and he’d never been around an extended family that interacted with love and respect for each other.

  Yet, in spite of that, he couldn’t say that his family life had always been lacking. For a while, when Boone had been a young boy and his grandparents still living, things had been basically good for him.

  Wayne and Alice Barnett had been decent, hardworking people. They’d cared about him, looked after him, given him the love and support he’d needed, while his own parents had only made a halfhearted gesture at raising their only son.

  Shoving the dismal thoughts aside, he carried the mugs over to the table, along with a bowl of sugar and a carton of half-and-half. After he’d fetched a spoon and napkin for her, he took a seat across from his guest.

  Now that he could see the woman in the light of the kitchen, he decided she looked even prettier than she had in the falling dusk. She had a wide soft mouth the color of a pink seashell and her pale green eyes were veiled by thick, long lashes. A rosy tinge marked her cheeks and straight little nose, and added to the vibrancy of her face. Yet it was her smile and the cheeriness in her eyes that grabbed him the most. She seemed to radiate happiness and that intrigued him, surprised him. Were there actually people like her left in the world? he wondered. Or was she simply putting up a polite front?

  “So, when did you decide to add mustangs to your herd?” he asked, while watching her stir a dollop of cream into the steaming coffee. She had long fingers with plain, short nails. There were no rings on her fingers, but there was a wide-cuffed band of silver set with a red coral stone circling her right wrist. That one piece of jewelry would probably buy two months of groceries for him and his daughter.

  Thoroughbreds, a six-figure truck and horse van and a family-owned ranch. Those things, coupled with her appearance, made it clear this woman was hardly lacking in financial funds.

  “Several months ago a friend purchased a stallion and I was impressed at his intelligence and manners. Seeing him prompted me to look into what the mustangs were all about. That’s when I discovered how many of them need homes. Have you been working with the
m very long?”

  She seemed genuinely interested and Boone was beginning to see she wasn’t simply a rich woman playing at a hobby.

  “Eight years. Before that I only had cattle and a few quarter horses on the ranch. When I got my first mustang I never planned on that one animal eventually turning into a business or a love affair for me.” He shrugged, while trying not to feel embarrassed for allowing this woman to see a softer part of him. “It was just something that happened.”

  “I—”

  She suddenly broke off and lifted her gaze beyond his shoulder. Boone turned his head just in time to see his twelve-year-old-daughter, Hayley, bound into the room. As soon as the girl spotted Dallas, she skidded to a halt and stared openmouthed at their visitor.

  “Oh. I didn’t know you had company, Dad.” Keeping her eye on the two adults, she moved past a row of cabinets until she reached a gas range. “I’m cooking pizza—for our dinner. And I think it’s done.”

  “Hurry up with that and come over here,” Boone told her. “I want you to meet our guest.”

  From her seat at the table, Dallas studied the young girl. Like her father, she was tall and if not a teenager already, then very close to it. Her light brown hair was bobbed short and tucked behind her ears, while her clothing was a typical T-shirt and hip-riding jeans. She wasn’t a dazzling beauty by any stretch of the imagination, but she was pretty. Or at least she would be if she’d smile, Dallas decided. Apparently she took that lack of expression from her father, too.

  At the stove, the girl deftly donned a pair of quilted mittens and lifted the pizza from the oven. After she placed the baked concoction on the stove top and switched the control knob to the off position, she walked over to the table and stood stiffly at her father’s shoulder.

  “Dallas, this is my daughter, Hayley. And, Hayley, this is Dallas Donovan. She’s driven all the way from New Mexico to purchase a few of our horses.”

  Dallas rose to her feet and offered her hand to the girl. Hayley seemed a bit surprised to be greeted in such an adult manner, but after a slight hesitation, she placed her small hand in Dallas’s.

  “It’s very nice to meet you, Hayley,” Dallas said. “Do you help your father with the horses?”

  The glance she slanted at her father said she wasn’t sure how to answer that question. “Sometimes.”

  “With school going on I suppose you don’t have much spare time,” Dallas remarked.

  “Not much,” the girl replied. “I’m in seventh grade now and the math is awful.”

  Dallas chuckled. “I never did like math. My dad grounded me once because I made a D. After that I had to study or sit home for the whole school year.”

  Hayley’s expression perked up as she seemingly decided that Dallas was human after all. “Do you have any kids, Ms. Donovan?”

  “Please, call me Dallas,” she said with a smile for the girl. “And no. I’m sorry to say I don’t have any children.”

  “Then you’re not married?”

  “Hayley! Quit asking personal questions! It’s not polite and you know better,” Boone admonished.

  Shaking her head, Dallas sank back into her seat at the table. “It’s all right. Your daughter is curious. There’s nothing wrong with that,” she told Boone, then looked directly at Hayley. “No. I’m not married. What about you? Do you have a boyfriend?”

  Hayley giggled and Boone shot the child a strange look, which made Dallas wonder if the sound of his daughter laughing was a rare thing, or was it the idea of Hayley having a boyfriend that caught his attention? Either way, Dallas felt totally drawn to the girl.

  “Noooo,” Hayley exclaimed, her cheeks a bright pink. “I’m only twelve! Well—I’ll be thirteen in four months. But Dad says that’s too young for a boyfriend.”

  Glancing over at him, Dallas noticed that Boone Barnett’s expression had returned to resembling a piece of hard granite, which only proved that he didn’t quite understand a young girl’s dreams and feelings.

  Ignoring him for the moment, Dallas said, “Oh. Well, I just thought there might be a boy at school that you liked. You know, like best friends.”

  The girl’s gaze instantly dropped to the floor. “The middle school I go to only has about ninety students altogether. So there aren’t that many boys to pick from. But there is one that I like,” she mumbled, then looked directly up at Dallas. “His name is Jeffery. And the rest of the girls call him a nerd. But I like him ’cause he’s polite and smart, not dumb jerks like most of the other boys.”

  Dallas tossed her a smile of approval. “He sounds like a winner to me.”

  Hayley looked up, her eyes widened with surprise. “Really?”

  “Sure. Manners and brains. That’s the combination I’d pick.”

  Hayley cast her father a subtle look of triumph, but he said nothing on the subject. Instead, he told his daughter, “You’d better cut the pizza before it gets cold.”

  The girl appeared as though she wanted to say more, but at the last moment decided not to press her luck.

  As Dallas watched Hayley return to the gas range to deal with the pizza, Boone asked, “Would you like to join us, Dallas? There’s plenty.”

  Surprised by the offer, Dallas turned her head to see he was looking at her with those dark brown eyes, surveying her in a way that left her feeling like a turtle without a shell.

  “No, thanks. I’d like to get to my hotel room before it gets late.”

  After quickly draining the last of her coffee, she rose to her feet. Boone was out of his seat almost at the same time and reached for her heavy jacket. Dallas’s heart beat fast as he held the garment for her to slip her arms into.

  She was accustomed to men doing gentlemanly things for her. But she wasn’t expecting such caring manners from this one. Nor was she expecting to feel so breathless, so completely aware of his strong presence.

  “I’ll walk you to your truck,” he said. He shouldered on his own jacket and reached for a flashlight that sat on the end of a cabinet counter.

  “Goodbye, Hayley,” Dallas said to Boone’s daughter. “It was nice meeting you.”

  The girl nodded shyly, then gave her a little wave before Boone opened the door and ushered Dallas out of the kitchen.

  Outside, darkness had settled over the ranch and she appreciated the glow of Boone’s flashlight illuminating their path as the two of them moved across the barren yard.

  “Is there a special time I need to be here tomorrow?” she asked as they walked briskly toward the truck. “If you have other appointments, I can match my schedule to yours. That’s the least I can do for arriving late today.”

  “I don’t have anything pressing going on tomorrow,” he replied. “Come out whenever you’d like.”

  As they moved along in the darkness, she realized he was close enough for her to reach over and touch, if she was so minded to. The idea titillated her senses and sent all sorts of questions hurtling through her mind. Mainly, where was Hayley’s mother? And was there some other woman in this man’s life?

  Don’t be letting your thoughts stray in that direction, Dallas. The hurt that Allen laid on your heart would be a minor scratch compared to what this cowboy could do to you. Get your business done with the man and get the heck out of here.

  “I’ll be out early,” she promised him as she jerked her thoughts back to the real issue.

  Once they reached the truck, he closed a hand around her elbow and helped her into the tall cab. Determined not to linger any longer, she closed the door between them and reached to start the engine. To her dismay the truck gave one loud sputter, and then the starter whirled uselessly.

  Boone knocked on the door panel to garner her attention and then made a motion for her to lower the window. Dallas did as he asked, then hung her head over the partially opened glass panel.

  “Pop the hood,” he instructed. “I’ll have a look.”

  She pulled the hood lever, then climbed to the ground while he poked and prodded at several th
ings attached to the engine.

  After a few minutes, he finally said, “I don’t see anything undone or broken. Which leads me to think you could be right about the problem being with the fuel.”

  She was already half-frozen from being out in the icy wind. It was growing later by the minute and she was miles and miles from Pioche, the only town in the area large enough to have any sort of amenities for a traveler.

  “Well,” she said decisively, “I’ll have to call a wrecker and have the truck towed to Pioche. Is there a service you’d recommend?”

  The glance he flashed her was full of impatience. “By the time a wrecker drove out here and pulled you back to town it would be the wee hours of the morning. And I doubt you’d find a mechanic that would want to crawl out of bed and start repairing your truck at that hour.”

  Not willing to give in to her dire predicament, she asked, “You don’t happen to have a spare vehicle that I could borrow? I’d be happy to pay you for its use.”

  He slammed the hood shut on the pricey vehicle and walked back over to where she stood. “Just an old truck we use here on the ranch,” he explained. “It’s not even highway legal.”

  “Oh. Well, it was just a thought,” she said, trying her best not to sound dejected.

  “Look, Dallas, I’d offer to drive you in to Pioche, but I’m not about to leave Hayley on the ranch by herself and I’m not going to drag her about for three fourths of the night. Especially when tomorrow is a school day.”

  She’d not even gotten as far as that solution, Dallas thought. But she could see how the idea of him driving her all the way to Pioche was just as problematic as calling for a wrecker.

  She might as well face the fact that she was stranded in the middle of nowhere, without anyone to rely on for help, except this big stone-faced horseman.

  “I would never ask you to do such a thing, anyway,” she told him, then released a short, helpless laugh. “But I am going to ask what you suggest I do now?”

  A faint grimace tightened his lips. “The way I see it, you have one choice. And that’s to stay here tonight.”