“Mothers can be a formidable force, even the gentle ones.” Liv laughed, thinking of her mother’s strength and wisdom. “Good for Nadine.”
A sign for Three Forks came into view as Jack rounded a curve. He eased up on the gas. “I was thinking we could get ribs at Willow Creek for dinner.”
The place with melt-in-your-mouth ribs that she and Jack had loved when they spent college breaks in Jasper Gulch? A place they enjoyed thoroughly until the breakup that rivaled the big bang with hometown repercussions? Um, no. Not about to happen. “A sandwich is fine. We don’t need to go to any trouble or try to be fancy.”
“I’ve never heard ribs called fancy.” Jack’s voice stayed easy, but Liv knew he was calling her out.
“Let’s keep it simple, Jack. You. Me. The horses. And a sandwich.”
“You’re warning me off.”
Yes and no. “I’m protecting both of us from repeating the mistakes of the past,” she explained. She kept her voice even, but it was crazy difficult to manage with Jack sitting inches away. But she did it because self-protection was a hard lesson learned. “You’ve got your life. I’ve got mine. For the moment our paths have intersected while we both work on a mutually beneficial project. Let’s keep it at that.”
He sent her a look that stammered her heart, and delivered a cockeyed smile, to boot. “A sandwich it is, then. Although if we happen to be downwind of Willow Creek’s smoker and you change your mind, I got us midafternoon reservations, and they weren’t easy to come by, either.”
“But the horses...?”
“Bo Gravinger’s on hand. He said he’ll mind things for us to get a bite. But a sandwich is fine, too, Liv. It’s not the food near as much as the nice company. That’s a pleasure right there.”
Her off-rhythm heart swelled at his words. The tone of voice, the tilt of his chin, the easy smile that worked his jaw just so.
Her resolve went south in a hurry because she’d like nothing better than to spend long hours relaxing with Jack, eyeing horses, sharing food on a bright summer’s day. He pointed to the left as he eased the truck and trailer into a parking area off to the right. “Nice crowd and good potential. Let’s go find us some horses, little lady.”
Adorable, handsome and available.
She’d vowed to steel her heart and emotions against all three. The reality of trying to do that while checking out beautiful mounts for the Double M rancher and his dad?
Virtually impossible.
* * *
“The two-year-old dark bay stallion.” Liv kept her voice low as they surveyed the groups of horses surrounding the near paddock. Jack eyed the solid young potential stud and agreed.
“I was thinking exactly the same.” The fact that they both selected the same young horse with breeding potential wasn’t lost on Jack. They’d always been on the same page, back in the day. But that was years ago, and a pile of mistakes since to work through. “Good temperament, great look, and stands solid.”
“Stunning look, actually,” Liv corrected him. “Not too proud, ready for direction, anxious to please. If those qualities pass down to offspring, you’ve got a gold-mine stallion right there. And the contrast of the black mane and tail sweeten the effect.”
“Anyone else strike you today?”
She slanted her gaze up to him with an expression that said yes, something else did strike her, but it was off-limits and out of reach. Then she settled her shoulders, climbed the rail and waved to the outer edge. “You’ve got matching bay fillies over there, a pretty pair and not a bit flighty. Wanna walk around and check them out?”
“It’s a four-horse trailer, so sure. Let’s go.” He reached out and grasped her waist to swing her down, but when her feet touched the dusty ground, the last thing he wanted to do was let go. In fact—
“This way, cowboy. And keep your mind on the horses.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned behind her, properly chastised but knowing she only half meant it. As they rounded the far end of the west-facing corral, the pair of fillies danced left, then settled as Liv moved closer, crooning. Another interested buyer shot them a look and gave up his spot near the fence, and when Jack asked the owner to bring the ladies by, he watched as Liv examined each one. “What’s the verdict?”
She faced him. “Sound. Fine. Pretty. Calm for their age.”
“Their lineage has breed-stock potential written all over it.”
“Is that a problem?”
Jack ran a hand across the nape of his neck, thoughtful. “Time is shorter without Mom. And the ranch hands are good guys, but it takes a special touch to work with broodmares.”
Liv had that touch, the crucial elemental mix of gentle but firm direction, the soft voice horses preferred. She’d helped his mother with the mares often as a teen. But she wasn’t staying, and how awkward would it be to offer her a job on the ranch? She’d laugh him out of the paddock.
“I can help while I’m here.”
Jack paused. Turned. When his eyes locked with hers, the solid ball that had been his heart for too many years began to soften, making it easy and hard to breathe all at once. “You wouldn’t mind?”
She looked off over his right shoulder, then drew her attention back his way. The filly nickered and nosed Liv, as if pushing her to say yes. The horse’s action made Liv smile and she looped an arm around the filly’s neck. “Do I get naming rights if I sign on?”
Naming rights and more, but Jack had worked with skittish animals all his life, and while Liv wasn’t an anxious foal, she had plenty of reason to doubt his good intentions, so he’d go slow and easy. “Yup.”
“Deal.”
“Sweet.” He bumped knuckles with her as the bullhorn called folks to the sale arena. “Let’s go in. Want coffee?”
“No. I’ll wait until we eat later. But thank you.”
“My pleasure.” And it was, he realized. As he followed her into the crowded ringside seats, he developed a hearty appreciation for her well-fitted jeans and sassy boots. Her tan Stetson, the same hat she’d worn years ago, still bore a tiny grease stain from a barbecue they’d attended together as college sophomores, a great night of planning for the future. A future he’d thrown away in a fit of anger. How stupid and childish that seemed now.
Yes, he loved baseball. The game, the sport, the teamwork. But he should have been more mature and accepting. Wasn’t that what Ethan had talked about last Monday? Accepting what is and making the best of your situation to help others?
He’d done nothing like that eight years ago. In truth, he’d done nothing like that since, either, other than helping his mother through her illness, but a thin surge of energy seemed to be building inside him, making him think he could do anything again.
“These seats okay?” Liv turned about halfway up the steps, and her
