Cathy Mcdavid - The Cowboy's Perfect Match

The stables were located farther up the road, a quarter mile past the last cabin. Even at fifteen miles per hour, they made good time. Ryan took in the structure and uttered a low “Wow!”

“We recently expanded the stables as well,” Bridget said. “Four more stalls and we increased the size of the paddock out back.”

Ryan had built covered stalls at the last two properties he’d flipped. Neither were as nice as these stables, which, while not large, were on par with professional horse ranches. Then again, the stalls he’d built were for private use and not to impress paying guests or appear in magazines.

Bridget parked beside the hitching rail. He expected to be dropped off and left to his own devices while he waited on the soon-to-retire wrangler. To Ryan’s vast delight, she shut off the golf cart and hopped out.

“Come on. I’ll show you around.” Pride tinged her voice. She didn’t just work for her grandmother, she loved the ranch.

“I’d like that,” he said.

The stables’ main door stood open, and Bridget went inside first. Ryan crossed the threshold behind her and stopped to stare.

Windows allowed ample natural illumination, eliminating the need for electric lights during bright sunny days like this one. Nickers filled the air as heads immediately popped over stall doors, eager to investigate the newcomers. The scents of hay and leather and grain filled the air.

“I’m impressed.” He went over to the far wall, where the harnesses hung in neat order. Running his hand down the length of a large collar, he noted the fine craftsmanship and pristine condition. Much better than anything his family had ever owned.

“Riding gear’s over there.” Bridget pointed to the other wall, where a variety of saddles sat perched on racks and bridles dangled from wooden pegs.

Every piece looked recently cleaned and recently polished. Also much better than anything his family owned.

Feeling a little like a fish out of water, he meandered over to the nearest horse. Happy for the attention, the large blond gelding nuzzled Ryan’s palm when he extended it.

“Haflinger,” he said, then noticed the other horse in the next stall over. They were a perfect match, like twin bookends. “Your driving team, I assume.”

“That’s Amos.” Bridget joined Ryan. “The other is Moses. They’re brothers.”

“I figured as much.”

“These are our recent purchases.” She indicated the three quarter horses in the adjoining stalls. “For trail rides. We bought them from a horse rental outfit in Apache Junction.”

“They appear tame enough.” Ryan estimated the trio were in their late teens and seasoned veterans.

“A lot of our clients have little or no experience riding. We don’t want to put them on anything that isn’t one-hundred-percent trustworthy. These three are perfect lambs.”

“You ride much?”

She moved to pat the nearest broad face and received a contented snort in return. “When I can get away from work. Which isn’t often enough. We’ve been going like gangbusters since we opened last November.”

She enjoyed riding. Yet another reason for Ryan to like this woman, who was fascinating him more and more with each new tidbit she revealed.

“Pleasure riding?” he guessed. “No, competitive.”

“Both. I grew up active in 4-H and competed in Western horsemanship classes. Later, I took up team roping for a while. Semiprofessionally.”

Ryan broke into a wide grin. “We have a lot in common. I team-roped, too.” He’d used the money from his winnings as a down payment on his first property. “Why’d you quit?”

“Culinary school. Le Cordon Bleu College.” More pride tinged her voice. “It’s one of the top schools in the southwest.”

No question about it, Bridget O’Malley was so far out of Ryan’s league, she might as well reside in outer space.

A horn sounded from outside, accompanied by the crunch of tires on gravel.

Bridget started for the door. “Must be Big Jim.”

After introductions were exchanged—Ryan liked the older gentleman right away—Bridget excused herself, claiming she had a lot of work waiting for her.

Her remark reminded Ryan of the hayride and cookout. “See you tonight,” he said.

She paused halfway into the golf cart, a puzzled expression on her face. The next instant, realization dawned. “Yeah. Right. See you.”

He watched her go before accompanying Big Jim into the stables, his ego suffering a mighty blow.

Clearly, she’d made a far greater impression on him than he had on her.

* * *

THE FIRST THING Bridget did when she got back to the ranch house was head to the parlor, where she checked the breakfast sign-in sheet. All the couples had come and gone, the exception being cabin two, whose brunch Bridget had delivered before taking Ryan to the stables.

He was an interesting sort, she thought as she carted trays of food and dirty dishware to the kitchen. An outrageous flirt with enough charm to win over the shyest of wallflowers. Despite seeing right through him, Bridget had not been unaffected and responded more times than she cared to admit.

She’d liked the timbre of his voice when he spoke about his family and heard the fondness he had for them. Having close family ties was a quality she admired in a person. She’d also been quite taken with the expression on his face when he first glimpsed the stables. He’d been genuinely impressed.

And, yes, he was handsome. Not to mention sexy in a rugged, cowboy way. She estimated him to be roughly her age. Maybe a couple years younger. Could she sneak a look at his paperwork without drawing her sister’s attention? No, that would be silly and immature.

What did she care how old Ryan was? Other than his age being near hers, she doubted he checked off any other boxes on her list of dating nonnegotiables.

All right, two boxes if she included his looks. No, make that three. On the tall side herself, she appreciated his six-foot-plus height. Dark brown hair the color of chocolate truffles was in direct contrast to a pair of blue-grey eyes that drew her in. His two-day beard, which she should have regarded as scruffy, instead elicited the kind of thrill she shouldn’t be feeling.

But that was as far as it went. Even though he was gainfully employed, he didn’t strike her as career-driven—another box on her list—and, thus, he was completely wrong for her.

Bridget was ambitious, and also convinced she’d fare better with a guy similar to herself. Her parents had been well-suited in that regard—equal partners rather than one carrying the other. She frequently witnessed her mother’s struggles for that equal partnership with her current husband and vowed to avoid winding up in similar circumstances.

Being a realist, Bridget knew men like her late father were rare. That didn’t stop her from holding out. Neither did the pressure from her loudly ticking biological clock.

Finishing her tasks one by one, she was engrossed with peeling shrimp for tonight’s cookout when her grandmother came up behind her and gave her a peck on the cheek.

“Hey there. How’d it go with our new wrangler?”

“Okay, I guess. I left him with Big Jim.”

Grandma Em ducked into the pantry, where Bridget knew she’d leave her purse out of sight on a lower shelf. She emerged a moment later and went straight for the refrigerator, selecting an egg-and-cheese burrito for lunch.

“You want one?” she asked.

“No, I ate earlier.” Bridget refused to serve their guests food that wasn’t at the peak of freshness. As a result, the O’Malleys dined well on leftovers.

“I just saw them.” Grandma sat at the table. “Big Jim and Ryan. They were returning from taking cabin two on their carriage ride through town. Ryan was doing the driving.”