Montana Hearts: Her Weekend Wrangler by Darlene Panzera

rolling her eyes. And he knew . Her problem was with the other women.
    He slipped his arm out of Ms. Kincaid’s grasp and motioned to his brother, who he spottedby the corral a short distance away. “Josh, can you escort these ladies to the barn to see Rocky?”
    Josh tossed the coiled rope in his hands over one of the corral’s wooden fence posts and, with a wide grin, tipped his hat back and gave each of the three women a quick perusal. “It would be my pleasure.”
    Ms. Kincaid’s smile faded, then perked back up again once she laid eyes on Josh. “Why,he’s as handsome as you are,” she mused. “Thank you, Ryan. We’ll talk to you later.”
    “Only if you’re interested in buying.”
    “I’m interested,” Ms. Kincaid assured him. “Can we sign papers tomorrow when I come back with my trailer?”
    “Tomorrow, it is,” he said, and stepped back. “Until then, have a good day.”
    After the women left for the barn with Josh, Bree twisted the foal-­sizedhalter she carried around in her hands and shook her head. “You are a charmer.”
    Ryan didn’t think she meant it as a compliment. “It’s just business.”
    “Yes. Of course,” Bree agreed. “Kind of early, though, to be coming by to look at a horse, don’t you think?”
    He had to agree and realized Ms. Kincaid hadn’t come over to take another peek at the horse; she’d come to take another peekat him . At a time when the woman knew he’d be available.
    Bree cast him a questioning sideways glance to further press her point, and he cleared his throat and grinned. “Should we get to work?”
    O NCE THEY WERE inside the stable, Ryan took Bree to the tack room where they gathered a bucket of brushes and other grooming supplies. Then he led her down the aisle to the end stall. As they approached,the mare kicked the wooden half door with a loud bang.
    “She saw me,” he said, taking a step back.
    “She’s afraid.” Digging in the bucket, Bree picked up a currycomb.
    Ryan frowned. Bree’s hand was shaking. Seemed like she was afraid, too.
    “I really appreciate you doing this,” he said, flattening himself against the sidewall out of the mare’s line of sight and edging closer. “Youknow that, don’t you?”
    “The most important thing is to establish trust,” Bree said, meeting his gaze.
    Ryan froze. Was she talking about her relationship with him or the horse?
    Bree looked away first. “Of course you knew that,” she muttered. “Everyone knows that . ”
    She took a step toward the stall. Stopped. Glanced at him. Then she drew in a deep breath, repeated, “Trust,” and tookanother step forward.
    Whoa! Why was she so nervous? Bree might be rusty, but she’d worked with horses hundreds of times. It couldn’t be them. Was it him? Did he make her nervous?
    The mare popped her head over the half door, spotted him again, and, with a sharp, high-­pitched squeal, kicked the inside of the stall with a bang! bang! bang!
    He certainly made the mare nervous. “Maybe Ishould leave,” Ryan suggested.
    “No.” Bree shook her head. “Don’t go.”
    “But—­”
    “What’s the mare’s name?” she asked, changing the subject.
    He smirked. “Angel.”
    “And the filly?”
    “Morning Glory.”
    “Appropriate.” A flicker of a smile crossed her face, and then Bree reached out and touched the mare’s nose. “That’s a good girl.”
    The mare nuzzled her hand and Bree movedcloser to greet the filly by the mother’s side. But Ryan heard the baby’s irritated squeal, followed by a loud scuffle.
    Ryan stood up on tiptoes, but because of his distance he couldn’t see. “What was that?”
    “Morning Glory darted away from me.” Bree slid the latch and opened the stall door just wide enough to squeeze inside. “Come here, little one.”
    Ryan heard another scuffle and agroan from Bree. He jumped forward. “Are you all right?”
    The mare flattened her ears back and glared at him until he retreated.
    “Yeah.” Her voice