Libby finally said, shoving her hair back from her forehead again as she straightened and wishing she’d pulled it back with a rubber band, “what brings you here?”
“I have questions. Professional ones.”
Her taut muscles relaxed slightly. “Shoot.”
“I’ve been talking to Joe Barton. He seems to think the BLM will be gathering mustangs near his allotments.”
“I don’t think so,” Libby said in an insulted tone. “If they are, it’s news to me.” Damn it. What was Ellen up to now?
“Okay, then, hypothetically, if you ever did gather Blue’s herd, what are the chances of him being put up for adoption?”
And then she understood. He wanted Blue. She wished she had a more positive answer than the one she was about to give him. “An older stallion? Not good.” She let herself out of the pen, even though she was tempted to keep some metal between the two of them.
“Even though he’s infirm?”
“Even less likely.” Libby slipped the ring of tape over her wrist like a bracelet, then closed up the vet kit and stowed it against the wall. She started out of the barn and Kade followed, closing the door behind him. Libby purposely kept walking toward Kade’s truck. He might be there to get answers, but there was no reason he couldn’t be on his way once he got them.
“Let’s say there’s someone who’ll give him a home, like, say, me.”
Libby let out a sigh. “If I make specific recommendations as to mustang adoption, even if they make sense, the powers that be won’t listen to them. There was a scandal a few years back, with federal employees earmarking the best horses for friends and relatives to adopt. Anything that even hints at that is frowned upon. And let me tell you, my new boss hates me, so anything I suggest that’s out of the ordinary is sure to be shot down.”
“Your outfit doesn’t make things easy, does it?”
“Protocol,” Libby muttered. “New sheriff in town and she ain’t friendly.”
“I see.” Kade shoved his thumbs in his front pockets. “I want Blue back. He won’t make it through next winter, the shape he’s in.” Kade was wearing that stubborn expression again.
Libby gave him a hard look. “You aren’t thinking of doing something dumb, are you?”
“Like?”
“Robbing a government herd.”
He cocked his head. “It’s not robbing if you own the animal.”
“It is if you can’t prove he’s yours.”
“Worried about me?” he asked softly, his gaze sliding to her lips.
“Yeah,” she said sardonically. “Because if they locked you up, I might never see you again.”
“Libby.” he said in that same low voice, not at all deterred by her sarcasm. Her name came out like a caress.
“Damn it, Kade. Stop it.”
He pulled his gaze back to her eyes. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
And she was sorry that he was giving her that look, the one that used to make her insides go liquid. “That’s great, Kade. But it doesn’t make it all better.”
“If I go and get Blue, will you turn me in?”
The quick change of topic threw her off balance. “Maybe.”
He took a step closer. “No, you won’t.”
Libby raised her chin. “How do you know?”
He took her face in his warm, work-roughened hands and, heaven help her, Libby did not take that important step back. The one she had to take if she wanted to keep their relationship the way it was. He lowered his mouth to hers, kissed her. Slowly. Deeply.
It felt so familiar, so welcome, so hot, that it was a few seconds before Libby shoved against his chest, knocking him back against his truck. She spun around and stalked to the house without a word, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth as she went. Erasing the sensation.
The rest of the evening was shot and Libby eventually gave up and went to bed early. To her lonely bed. She was tired of being alone. And Kade was not the answer.
LIBBY MET SAM after work on Friday night for their dinner date. Since he’d just come off an emergency call, his blond hair was rumpled and he wore jeans and a plaid shirt. She wore her field khakis and a black T-shirt. They made a striking couple when they walked into the Supper Club, Wesley’s finest dining facility, because they were the most underdressed couple there.
Over drinks, Sam told her vet stories, which Libby always found entertaining since she understood animals almost as well as, and in some ways better than, he did. The restaurant started to fill up after their main course arrived, and Libby was glad they’d opted to go out early.
“You never told me you were friends with Kade Danning,” Sam said.
Libby stared at him over what had been a fairly decent steak—until then.
“I guess I didn’t see any reason to.” Sam, who was normally quite intelligent, didn’t take the hint.
“I used to love to watch him ride.”
“He was good,” Libby said, picking up her glass of water, sipping.
“I thought it was a shame, what happened to him.”
“You mean when that horse almost did him in?”
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