A Wife in Wyoming Read Online Free PDF Page B

though, she wanted him on her side, which meant mending fences. So she put the truck in gear and followed him down the road, slowing as she came alongside him. Through the open window, she called, “I’m sorry for being cranky. Get in and I’ll take you the rest of the way.”
    He shook his head and kept walking. “That’s okay. I don’t get out enough in San Francisco. Feels good.”
    â€œAre you going to make me follow you all the way to the house?”
    â€œIt’s only about a half mile.”
    â€œCome on, Ford. Get in.”
    He stopped, set his hands on his hips and stood facing away from her, gazing out over the land. They were on a bit of a rise and could see all the way to the mountains, plus the ranch buildings in between—a timber-sided house, a big red barn with corrals around it and other structures.
    â€œIt’s beautiful,” Caroline said. “I never realized what a view you have over the valley. My dad’s ranch isn’t nearly this pretty.” Especially considering all the metal buildings set up to house his quarter horse breeding business. With the stallion barn, the mare barn and foaling barn, the indoor arena, offices and equipment sheds, not to mention the landing strip for his plane, the place resembled a military base more than a Wyoming ranch.
    â€œYeah, it’s pretty special.” He came to the door and leaned one arm on the windowsill. “You’re a problem, Caroline Donnelly. Do you know that?”
    â€œI don’t intend to be. Why don’t we let the past be over, and start from here and now?” She held her hand out across the seat between them. “Deal?”
    He stared at her face for a long moment, then his gaze dropped to her hand. His shoulders lifted on a deep breath. “Deal,” he said, clasping her fingers with his. He let go quickly. “But I’m still walking home.”
    * * *
    F ORD DIDN ’ T LOOK BACK when he heard the truck’s engine rev up, or when the rattle of gravel announced a quick three-point turn and a rapid acceleration. He’d spent as much time as he could handle sharing the small space of the truck cab with Caroline. He wanted to clear his head before he had to deal with his sharp-eyed brothers. Teasing was a way of life with the Marshall boys—at the least sign of weakness, they would rib him without mercy.
    He wasn’t sure he could defend himself. Because, as pretty as she had been in high school—and he well remembered lying in the dark in the room he’d shared with Wyatt, thinking about the curve of her hips and the swell of her breasts and the cute round butt she got from being a damn fine barrel racer—Caroline Donnelly was a hell of a beautiful woman now.
    The years had refined the elegant bone structure of her face, setting her eyes deeper, sculpting her lips into a delicious smile. Because she didn’t ride as much, her legs were long and slim, shown to advantage by the short skirt of the dress she’d worn today. He’d had to get out of the truck and walk away before she saw how he felt about her. How he’d always felt.
    Not that Caroline would consider dating him, even though he wasn’t one of “those poor Marshall boys” now. Her boyfriends in high school had been the “cool” guys, the ones with nice cars, stylish clothes and plenty of money to spend on their girlfriends. He’d watched them all from a distance, overheard details about the parties, the skiing trips and concerts and vacations. He knew, because his dad talked about it, how fancy the Donnelly house was, how the barn had heated water dispensers in the stalls and, incredibly, a swimming tank for the horses.
    His dad also described life for Caroline and her brother Reid—expensive ponies to ride and train on, handmade saddles and custom bridles and boots, clothes that never seemed to get worn twice. Their vehicles, in high