Rottie that I adopted from a shelter is named Ruby. And my baby chi-weenie’s name is Sterling.”
Chi-what? Oh, right, a Chihuahua and dachshund. “What about your two cats?”
Surely he would get points for remembering there were two.
“Amie is keeping them.”
She always was a suck-up.
“Then I’ll keep the dogs. They can live with me.” How much trouble could four dogs be? He had lots of help. He would find one of those doggy day cares.
“I said I wanted them to go to good homes.”
He winced. “Of course you do.”
“Homes approved of by an expert,” she continued as she stopped her horse by the stables.
“An expert?” Hairs on the back of his neck rose with an impending sense of Karma about to bite him on the butt.
He didn’t even have to look down the lengthy walkway between horse stalls to know Johanna Fletcher was striding toward them on long, lean legs that could have sold a million pairs of jeans. She usually wore a French braid to keep her wavy blond hair secure when she worked. His fingers twitched at the memory of sliding through that braid to unleash all those tawny strands around her bare shoulders.
What he wouldn’t give to lose himself in her again, to forget about the thought of his grandmother’s illness. Even if the best scenario played out, a couple of years wasn’t enough.
For now, he would do whatever it took to keep Gran happy.
“Your expert?” he prodded.
“All adoptions must be approved by our ranch vet tech, Johanna Fletcher.”
Of course.
His eyes slid to Johanna closing the gap between them as she went from stall to stall, horse to horse. Her face shuttered the instant she looked at him, whereas once she would have met him with a full-lipped smile, a slight gap between her front teeth. That endearing imperfection only enhanced her attractiveness. She was down-to-earth and sexy. He knew every inch of her intimately.
After all, she was his ex-fiancée.
The woman who had dumped him in no uncertain terms in front of all their friends at a major fund-raiser. A woman who now hated his guts and would like nothing more than to see his dreams go up in flames.
* * *
Stone McNair, the CEO in a business suit ruling the boardroom, commanded respect and awe. But Stone McNair, cowboy Casanova on a horse, was a charismatic charmer Johanna Fletcher had always been hard-pressed to resist.
Johanna tamped down the urge to fan herself as she stood just outside a horse stall and studied her former lover out of the corner of her eyes. Damn it, he still made her hot all over.
She busied herself with listening to a horse’s heartbeat—or pretending to listen at least. The palomino was fine, but she didn’t want anyone thinking she was still pining for Stone. Everyone from Fort Worth to Del Rio knew her history with him. She didn’t need to feed them any fodder for gossip by drooling every time he strutted into the stables.
Lord help her, that man knew how to strut.
Jeans hugged his thighs as he swung a leg over his horse, boots hitting the ground with a thud that vibrated clear through her even from twenty yards away. The sun flashed off his belt buckle—a signature Diamonds in the Rough design—bringing out the nuances of the pattern. Magnificent. Just like the man. All the McNairs had charisma, but Stone was sinfully handsome, with coal-black hair and ice-blue eyes right off some movie poster. Sweat dotted his brow, giving his hair a hint of a curl along the edges of his tan Stetson. She’d idolized him as a child. Fantasized about him as a teenager.
And as a woman? She’d fallen right in line with the rest and let herself be swayed by his charms.
Never again.
Johanna turned her focus back to the next stall with a quarter horse named Topaz, one of the more popular rides for vacationers. She had a job to do and she was darn lucky to work here after the scene she’d caused during her breakup with Stone. But Mrs. McNair liked her and kept her on. Johanna hadn’t been able to resist the opportunity to work with so many unique horses in the best stable.
Her career was everything to her now, and she refused to put it in jeopardy. Her parents had sacrificed their life’s savings to send her to the best schools so she had the educational foundation she needed to pursue her dreams. Although her parents were gone now after a fire in the trailer park, she owed them. Perhaps even more so to honor their memory. Her father’s work here had brought her into the McNair world—brought her to Stone, even if their romance ultimately hadn’t been able to withstand the wide social chasm between them.
She had no family, not even the promise of one she’d once harbored while engaged to Stone. She had her work, her horses. This was her life and her future.
Hooves clopped as Mariah and Stone passed off their rides to two stable hands. Johanna frowned. Even though the McNairs were wealthy, they usually unsaddled and rubbed down their horses themselves. Instead, the grandmother and grandson were walking directly toward her. Tingles pranced up and down her spine. Ignoring him would be impossible.
She hooked her stethoscope around her neck. Her own racing heartbeat filled her ears now, each breath faster and faster, filling her lungs with the scent of hay and leather.
Trailing her hand along the plush velvet of the horse’s coat, she angled her way out of the wooden stall and into the walkway. “Hello, Mrs. McNair—” she swallowed hard “—and Stone.”
Mariah McNair smiled. Stone didn’t. In fact, he was scowling. But there was also something more lurking in his eyes, something...sad? She hated the way her heart pinched instinctively, and hated even more that she could still read him so well.
Mariah held out a hand. “Dear, let’s step back into the office where we can chat in private.”
With Stone, too? But Mariah’s words weren’t a question. “Of course.”
Questions welled inside her with each step toward the office, passing Hidden Gem staff barely hiding their own curiosity as they prepped rides for vacationers. Alex and Amie eyed them but kept their distance as they hauled the saddles off their horses. The twins wore the same somber and stunned expressions on their faces that she saw on Stone’s.
Concern nipped like a feisty foal, and Johanna walked faster. She’d all but grown up here, following her stable hand dad around. Her family hadn’t been wealthy like the McNairs, but she’d always been loved, secure—until the day her family had died when their malfunctioning furnace caught on fire in the night.
She’d lost everything. Except rather than making her afraid to love, she craved that sense of family. These walls echoed with memories of how special those bonds had been.
Custom saddles lined the corridors, all works of art like everything the McNairs made. Carvings marked the leather with a variety of designs from roses to vines to full-out pastoral scenes. Some saddles sported silver or brass studs on horn caps and skirting edges that rivaled the tooling of any of the best old vaqueros.
Her
