proceeded according to nature, though, and she chuckled as a very new filly tried to get her wobbly legs to cooperate so she could find her very first meal.
Megan and the mare helped, then Megan hung her jacket on a nail and set about cleaning up. After mucking out the stall, she spread fresh straw around and tossed a scoop of oats in the bin. Mother and daughter ate, then lay down for their first nap together. Megan got all choked up.
Pulling on the coat and grabbing the mug, she went outside to check the rest of her charges. She had three horses to train for recreation riding and one to correct for bad habits, such as biting a person on the leg when anyone tried to mount him. In addition, she was working with four yearlings to prepare them for the show ring.
She pulled in a deep breath. This was the life she loved. What more could one ask for?
The answer came swiftly. Her early memories, for starters. Contentment for another. With a wry grimace, she added wealth, happiness and Prince Charming. There, that should cover everything. Where was that genie in the bottle when a gal needed him?
Across the lake, she heard the drone of an engine. Glancing that way, she watched Kyle Herriot maneuver a small powerboat onto the placid water. He sped off toward the other end of the lake. Fishing, probably.
She recalled his mother was to have left early that morning for a vacation with one of her schoolteacher friends, another widow, so Kyle was on his own, too. She idly wondered if he could cook, a task she had little patience with.
Which reminded her, she needed to make a grocery list. The last month had been given over to wedding preparations and the refrigerator had gradually filled with special dishes as the big day drew near. She’d eaten whatever was on hand and easy to fix, usually frozen entrées heated in the microwave oven.
She checked all the horses, repaired a fence, then headed back to the house. The temperature was rising rapidly. The afternoons were hot due to a high-pressure system sitting over this part of the state. She’d welcome a thundershower to settle the dust.
After freshening up, she took off for town in the ranch wagon, a list of chores in her pocket. The first person she saw at the feed store was Kyle. His fishing expedition hadn’t lasted long.
Her insides clenched up.
She didn’t like that a bit. He neither frightened nor attracted her, so why the emotional twinge?
“Good morning,” he said when he saw her. He held open the door. No smile graced the planes and ridges of his face.
“Good morning. Did your mother get off on her trip okay?” she asked, pleased with the polite distance in her tone that gave nothing of her restless emotions away.
Her dreams had been filled with scenes she couldn’t interpret—him and her, running from something, then her running from him while ghostly figures hovered ominously on the sidelines.
“Yes, considering she was afraid the ranch would fall apart without her watchful eye on things.”
His rueful answer took her by surprise. So did the amusement in his eyes, which looked more silver than gray in the morning light.
“Mothers,” she said, smiling with genuine warmth.
He seemed to stare at her mouth for a long minute before nodding. She turned down the first aisle of the store to escape him, then rubbed her lips to see if she had egg on her face.
She yanked out her list and hurried to the huge bags of feed. She might have known—Kyle was already there. He moved over so she could make her selections.
“Who’s first?” the proprietor asked when he came to wait on them.
“He was.”
“She was.”
Megan glanced at Kyle in annoyance. “He was,” she said firmly.
He shrugged. “I’m getting a hundred pounds of the special mix. I can handle it.”
Megan watched him hoist a bag of feed as if it weighed no more than a five-pound bag of sugar. Muscles rippled in his arms and shoulders while others bunched in his thighs as he rose and slung the bag over his shoulder in one smooth movement. The owner dumped her order onto a wheelbarrow with a grunt, then headed out to her vehicle.
She gathered the rest of the ranch items on her list and went to the cash register. Kyle was there, asking about an air compressor. The store rented equipment to the locals as well as supplying them with crop seeds, stock feed and various medicines and liniments.
“You two have got to quit meeting this way,” the owner told them, laughing heartily at his joke.
Megan’s smile was automatic, but her heart went into fast mode as she glanced at her enemy. His gaze locked on her mouth again and she recalled the way his eyes had roamed her face while they danced last night. His expression had been cold, but there had been something in those silvery depths….
Right. Dislike and suspicion.
She licked her lips and turned to Harry, glad to finish her business and get out of the store. After having her hair trimmed, she did the grocery shopping. By then, it was time for lunch. A meal at the local diner was the one treat she allowed herself when she had to come to town.
By rushing, she got a table just before a busload of senior citizens tramped inside. She watched them settle in, asking questions about the cooking methods of various dishes and the fat content, then ordering hamburgers and fries. The waitress, who had worked there just about forever, was the soul of patience, but she winked at Megan as she pivoted toward the pass-through to the kitchen.
Watching a frail old man, who looked to be around ninety, help his equally fragile wife to a seat, Megan wondered what memories they shared, the births and deaths, the unexpected joys, the deep sorrows—
“You expecting anyone?” a male voice asked.
She stared up at Kyle.
“Okay if I join you? The place seems to be full.”
“Oh. Yes, that’s fine.”
He removed his Stetson and hung it on the back of a chair before taking a seat opposite her. He checked out the lunch special listed on the chalk-board. “You ordered?”
“Not yet. I’m going for the special.”
The waitress came over and plopped down two glasses of water from a tray. “You know what you want?”
“The special with iced tea. Cornbread instead of dinner rolls,” he said after she ordered the same thing but with the homemade yeast rolls.
“Got it.” The waitress hurried off.
Their table was an island of silence surrounded by a sea of babble, Megan realized. No conversational tidbits came to mind.
He had no such problem. “It’s going to be hot this afternoon. Again.”
“Yes.” She recalled the store. “You must have plans for some hard work.”
Kyle looked a question at her. He watched the way the light
