The Trouble With Cowboys Read Online Free PDF Page B

clipped, and the flower bed had already been given a spring spruce-up.
    “Nice place you got. How many horses you have?”
    “Just one. You need some advice about Braveheart?”
    He called on his dimple; it rarely failed him. “Eager to see the backside of me, Annie?”
    She banked a look off him as a pretty blush bloomed on her cheeks. “I’m busy, Dylan. If you have a question, spit it out. If not . . .” She looked ready to bolt.
    “I’ll cut right to the chase then. Braveheart’s worse than he was last we spoke. Roy wasn’t working out. I let him go.”
    “You shouldn’t have done that.”
    “The horse needs your help.”
    “I already told you—”
    “You’re busy, I know. I’m getting desperate here, Annie. He won’t even let me near him anymore. His eyesight’s worse, and he’s wreaking havoc in my barn. He’s going to hurt himself or someone else.”
    Dylan planted his elbows on his knees and twisted the brim of his hat in his hands. He hated seeing Braveheart like that. It was as if the horse was going mad, only he wasn’t. When he looked up, he met Annie’s eyes.
    “Maybe Merle was right,” she said softly.
    “I’m not putting him down.” They’d been through so much together. Braveheart had gotten him through the worst days of his life. How could he turn his back on his horse in his hour of need?
    “I’m not,” he repeated.

    Annie looked away from Dylan. He had that dogged look Ryder sometimes got when Sierra said it was bedtime. Only the expression was ten times as formidable on Dylan’s face and probably wouldn’t precede a temper tantrum that left him thrashing on the porch.
    It had disturbed her to see Ryder in the cowboy hat, swinging a lariat. Last thing she needed was Dylan coming around influencing the child.
    “You’re the only one who can help him,” he said.
    “You don’t know that. These things take time. Roy’s not a miracle worker.”
    Dylan shook his head. “Braveheart knows you. You’ll be able to get through to him, I know it. You’re the best trainer in all Park County, maybe even the whole state.”
    She steeled herself against his flattery and forced herself to remember last summer. She’d been working with his stubborn mustang, and the animal had kicked at her. She jumped back just in time. Right into Dylan’s arms.
    “Whoa there,” he’d said, his low Texas drawl tickling her ear.
    His strong arms curled around her stomach. The heat of his chest burned into her back. The feel of him against her sent a shiver down her arms despite the summer heat and turned her legs to noodles. Her mouth went as dry as Spring Creek in July. Her breath seemed stuffed in her lungs.
    “Why, Annie Wilkerson . . . ,” he’d whispered, fluttering the sensitive hairs near her ear. “I had no idea you felt this way.”
    His words brought her around quick enough. She pulled herself from his arms and gave him a shove for good measure, noting that it didn’t make him budge one iota.
    “Keep your hands to yourself, Taylor.” She was amazed her voice hadn’t betrayed the chaos inside her.
    He’d tugged the brim of his hat down, his eyes twinkling. “Whatever you say, Miss Annie.”
    She looked at him now. The twinkle was long gone, replaced by hues of desperation.
    Too bad. Her heart pounded from the memory. She’d rather wrestle a rattlesnake than spend another day at his place—she’d probably stand a better chance of coming out unscathed.
    “You’re his last hope, Annie. Please, you gotta help him.”
    The man had a way of working people over that reminded Annie too much of her own father and all the other smooth-talking cowboys she’d had the misfortune of meeting. Even now he was buttering her up, tugging at her heartstrings, making her want to do something she had no business doing.
    “I’ll pay whatever you want.”
    He didn’t have the money to make an offer like that, but his desperation twisted her heart. And she hated seeing an animal suffer. Too