The Art of Love (The Windswept Saga) by Tommie Conrad Page B

assistance.  Sorry to leave you shorthanded, but it’s just for one day.”
    “Chandler, I’m not made of glass,” she said tersely .  “I’ll be fine on my own.”
    He nodded and responded with his own brief smile.  “I know, T.”  He glanced downward, then she was rewarded with a solemn pair of blue eyes.  “You can head home whenever you’re ready.  I’ll lock up.”
    She cleared her throat.  “You sure?”
    A brusque nod.  “Positive.” 
    “Okay,” she said softly.  “See you Tuesday.”
    His lips pursed together.  “Mm-hmm.”
    “Bye, Chandler.”  She collected her purse and headed quickly from the building.  One, or maybe both of them, had just overstepped their bounds—and in Taylor’s experience, it was always difficult to get your toe back over that line.  If she wasn’t going to see him again until Tuesday, there seemed very little need to worry over it.  Surely the awkwardness would pass.  

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 7
    The frown that had locked onto Chandler’s face the night before remained there into the next morning.  He’d driven out to the ranch, made his way to the barn, and muttered a few curses as he dragged his saddle and blanket from the tack room.  His fought with the bridle like an amateur, and even startled Midnight into a nervous snort.  “Good way to get your guts kicked out, cowboy,” he murmured to himself.
    “Chandler!”  Mark’s voice, sunny and clear as a bell on that cold winter morning, reverberated througho ut the barn.
    “In here,” Chandler quickly uttered, just loud enough to be heard.  He was finally getting his cinch secured when Mark’s smiling face peeked over the stall door.
    “Uh-oh,” he pronounced upon seeing Chandler’s hard-set jaw.   “I recognize that expression.  Hell, I’m married to it.”
    Chandler raised his left hand like a crossing guard.  “Leave it, Mark.  Just leave it.”  He sighed.  “I’m not in the mood.”
    Mark nodded, quickly processing his best friend’s feelings.  After all this time, they shared something stronger than ESP.  “Max has decided the cowboy thing is not for him.  He wants to draw his own pictures and sell them, just like you.”  He watched as Chandler’s face softened into a relaxed smile.  “I told him he still had plenty of time to make up his mind.”
    “Dad’s going to kill me if I don’t steer those nephews of mine in the right direction.”  He laughed ruefully.  “Or at least tan my hide.”
    “I doubt that,” Mark replied with some confidence.
    Chandler looked at him and frowned.  “Don’t you need to saddle your horse?”
    “Nope.  I beat you out here this morning, bud.  Rowdy and I watched the sun come up.”
    “Holy shit, Mark.  How’d you manage to look so fresh?  Kids aren’t renowned for sticking to a schedule.”
    “Max spent the night with CJ and Alison, a nd Matt slept through the night.  Slept through the night ,” he repeated with some emphasis.  “So when he did wake up, I changed his diaper, Christa fed him, and I was out the door.”
    Chandler was a touch jealous, but didn’t begrudge his brother-in-law an ou nce of happiness.  “I’m not complaining, but you could have gotten one of the hands to help with this.”
    Mark shook his head and mounted his steed.  “ I guess I just got used to having you around,” he replied philosophically.  “Probably sounds a little like I’ve gone soft.”  Chandler stuck one toe in the stirrup and swung over with ease.  They settled the horses into an easy trot, appraising the lay of the land.  Some of the snowpack had melted down in places, revealing dormant ground and the occasional stone.  Even in the dead of winter, this place was still vibrant, full of life, awash in well-preserved memories of great times.
    Mark cleared his throat as they topped the ridge, gathered up his reins, and reseated his hat against the sun’s harsh rays.  “You se ll