Stella Bagwell - Christmas with the Mustang Man

His head bent over his plate, but not before she saw the corners of his mouth turn downward. “You told Hayley that you didn’t have a husband or kids. Is that true?”

Two years, or even a year ago, his question would have filled her with pain and an utter sense of loss. Now she was stronger. Now she could think of Allen and thank God that she’d not made the horrible mistake of marrying him.

“It’s hard for a tall girl to get a date,” she joked, then when he didn’t appear to be amused, she added in a more sober tone, “Seriously, the right man just hasn’t come along. I came close to marrying once but he… Well, that didn’t work out. And since then most of the men I’ve dated always ended up trying to pull me away from the ranch and what I do. And I end up pulling back. A tug-of-war tears people and marriages apart. I’m smart enough to know that.”

Lifting his gaze to hers, he said softly, “Yes. I believe you are just that—smart.”

Even though his face was impossible to read, she could tell from his voice that he’d meant the comment as a compliment. Though she didn’t know why, the idea was ridiculously pleasing to her.

As Boone watched Dallas fork a morsel of food to her mouth, he couldn’t help thinking how the day had turned out to be a strange one. First thing this morning, he’d found a mama-to-be cat in the barn. Since he had no cats and his nearest neighbor was at least ten miles away, he didn’t know where she’d come from or how she’d gotten to the ranch. In any case, she’d made herself at home and trotted along behind him as though she was certain he was going to be more than happy to be her master. And then his old ranch horse, the gelding he’d had for more than fifteen years—the one who was so ill-natured he kicked or bit any four-legged creature that happened to come near his end of the feed trough—had eaten his breakfast snuggled up to a mustang mare, as though he’d found himself a little angel. Now here Boone was sitting at the supper table with a woman.

What were the chances of a new truck going on the blink? he asked himself. Damn little to none, that’s how many. And if someone had told him a woman with pretty red hair and a soft smile would be warming up his kitchen tonight, he’d have declared the person crazy. Yeah, the day had been unusual, he decided. And the night was just starting.

“How long have you lived on this ranch?” she asked.

For a moment his gaze was caught on her lips and the way the plush curves moved as they formed words. The gentle tilt at the corners of her mouth implied she was constantly smiling and he tried to imagine what it might be like to live with a woman like her, a woman who wasn’t staring at him with vacant eyes and an expression of utter detachment.

She’s not Joan. But she could still cause you a ton of trouble. Especially if you don’t get your eyes off her lips and your mind back to business.

Boone shifted in his seat. “Ever since I was born—thirty-nine years ago.”

“That’s a long time,” she replied, then laughed contritely. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you’re old. I just meant that thirty-nine years is a long time for anyone to be in one spot.”

“You’ve stayed in the same spot all your life. Or so you said,” he pointed out, while thinking it had been ages and ages since he’d had a conversation like this with a woman.

There were occasional times, when his father was sober enough to have Hayley visit, or when she stayed overnight with friends, that Boone would go into town for a beer and a willing woman. But those instances were not just rare, they were different. This woman was different.

“That’s true. I have lived my whole life on the Diamond D,” she admitted. “And I don’t plan to leave it, either.”

The last statement she said with conviction and Boone tended to believe what she said. After all, she was thirty-two and still living on the ranch. Obviously no man had been able to pull her away. He liked that about her and the fact that she had an independent streak. Even more, she seemed confident about the things she wanted. Too bad Joan hadn’t been that strong and decisive. His ex-wife had never known what, if anything, could make her happy. At one time, she’d believed her happiness lay solely in Boone. But she’d been confused about him and this life he’d chosen to lead; just as she’d been confused about her own life and where she fit in this world.

Biting back a sigh of regret, he said, “My grandparents purchased this stretch of range when my father was a young teenager—just a bit older than Hayley. Before then, Granddad worked in the silver mines. But he’d come from a ranching family down in Arizona and that way of life was in his blood. He took what money he’d managed to save over the years and sank it into this place. And for the past decade I’ve leased four hundred thousand acres of public land to go with it for extra grazing.”

Boone stabbed his fork into the pizza on his plate and wondered what the hell had prompted him to say all those things. Normally he never talked about his past or his family. And he especially didn’t share such personal things with horse buyers. But for some reason Dallas felt like more than a visiting horse buyer. Maybe that was because she was continuing to study him with genuine interest. Or had it been so long since he’d spent time with a woman that he was reading Dallas all wrong?

“What about your father?” she asked. “He’s not a rancher?”

The thought of Newt Barnett was enough to cause Boone to clench his teeth. The man had always been a sponger, and for the most part had ignored his responsibilities as a father, a husband and even as a son. He’d squandered and drank and whined through most of his life. And yet Newt expected Boone to forgive his mistakes and show him the love and respect of a father. Boone had never wanted to think of himself as a hard-hearted person, but Newt was yet to give him one good reason to love and respect him.

“Ranching is hard work,” Boone said flatly. “Newt has always wanted things the easy way.”

Dallas’s hand fluttered up to her throat and Boone could see his statement had disturbed her. He probably shouldn’t have been so blunt. But Boone never was one to sugarcoat anything and he sure as hell wasn’t going to try to pretend his father was a respectable, productive citizen of Lincoln County. Not even to impress this lady.

“You sound—” her gaze dropped awkwardly to her plate “—as though the two of you don’t get along very well.”

“We never have,” he admitted. “But that’s a whole other story.”

Several awkward moments passed in silence and then she said, “My grandparents emigrated from Ireland and first settled in Kentucky. But by the 1960s, Grandfather Arthur got the urge to travel west and acquire more land. He fell in love with New Mexico and decided it was the perfect place to raise his Thoroughbreds. Out of two daughters and a son, Dad was the only child who stayed in the business and kept the ranch going.” She cast a wry glance at him, as though she wasn’t sure she should ask her next question. “Where are your grandparents now?”

His dark brown eyes flickered with raw emotions and Dallas realized he wasn’t the indifferent cowboy she’d first believed him to be.

“Dead,” he said bluntly. “They’d gone on a hunting trip and the small aircraft they were traveling in hit an ice storm over the Montana plains and crashed. They were only in their fifties at the time. I was just fifteen and it… Well, it took me a long time to accept that the both of them were really gone. When you’re young you think you’ll have your loved ones around forever.”

Somewhere in his husky voice Dallas could hear his loss and the idea of Boone going through such a tragedy thickened her throat and tangled her usually ready words. “You must have been…utterly crushed.”