A Cowboy's Angel. Pamela Britton

your practice?”

      “I don’t... Well, I mean, I do have one. I mean, I could if I wanted to, and I do, sort of....”

      She took a deep breath. “I work for nonprofits, mostly. Did a year in Mexico and Chile gelding stallions for rural farmers. These days I’m focusing on problems that are closer to home. I work for a temp agency that specializes in placing veterinarians. It means I have to travel a lot, but that’s okay. Working temp jobs gives me lots of free time to focus on CEASE.”

      There. That hadn’t sounded so bad. He didn’t need to know that she’d been looking for full-time work for months now. Let him think she selflessly devoted herself to her cause.

      He turned off the cart. “Be right back.”

      “What? Wait. I’ll go with you.”

      “No, no. Just stay there.”

      He left her there sitting all alone.

      She slumped against the seat in disappointment. She’d been hoping for a “Good for you,” maybe even a “Wow, I’m impressed,” but all she saw was his impressive backside disappear inside the shed.

      You should be grateful he put some distance between the two of you.

      Instead she dwelled on her disappointment at his nonreaction, and that worried her all the more. What did she care if he wasn’t impressed by her vocation? He was a racehorse owner. The enemy.

      A handsome enemy.

      She covered her face with her hands and groaned. She had the hots for him, all right. And she had them bad.

      “Not good,” she heard herself say.

      Not good at all.

      * * *

      A VET.

      Zach pulled the string on a brand-new bag of grain, the threads sliding free with a pop-pop-pop-pop, all the while trying to figure out what would make a woman go through years and years of schooling only to toss them all away and found an organization like CEASE.

      Crazy.

      Well, he knew that. Everyone at Golden Downs knew it. When she and her buddies had picketed the entrance to the track, she’d arrived in a horse costume, complete with long flowing mane made out of yarn.

      Crazy.

      Outside he heard the rhythmic thud of horses’ hooves. Belle and Baby must have spotted his arrival and were now galloping to the shelter in anticipation of gorging themselves on grain. One of them nickered along the way.

      “Hold on, hold on,” he said, opening a feed door along the back wall. Two anxious faces stared back at him, ears pricked forward, eyes bright. He smiled. “Did you honestly think I would forget about you?”

      They nodded their heads as if answering his question but were really just exhibiting equine impatience, manes flying, forelocks waving. He poured out the feed. They acted starved. The two of them had all the grass in the world, but he gave them supplements to help the growth of their unborn foals.

      “Slow down, you guys. You’re going to choke.”

      “I, ah, I think I’m going to head on up to the house.”

      He just about jumped. His horses, too, both of them lifting their heads as if to ask, “Who’s that?”

      A pain in his backside.

      She stood in the doorway, her pretty hair lit up like a sorrel-colored horse. He’d never seen hair such a golden-red before and not for the first time he wondered if it was fake or natural. He would bet natural.

      “I brought something I should warm up, and so if you don’t mind...” She motioned back toward the parking area. “I don’t want it sitting in the sun, either.”

      “Hang on. I’ll drive you.”

      He tossed the horses some grain, then all but threw the scooper back into the garbage can he used to store their feed and closed the lid with a snap before turning back around and brushing by her, their arms grazing. She jumped as if he’d hit her with flames.

      It drew him up short. “Did I scratch you or something?”

      “No, no.” She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I’m fine. Just a little off-balance.”

      He spotted the blush then. Saw how her pulse beat at the base of her neck. The way her gaze darted all over the place—anywhere but at him.

      She was aware of him.

      He stepped closer. “You sure you’re okay?”

      She nodded. “Oh, yeah. Great. Just hungry. That’s why I want to start heating up my dish. I didn’t have any lunch and I’m starved. I’m such an idiot sometimes. I really should eat. Surprised I don’t just keel over sometimes.” She made the sound of a splat, using her forearm to mimic falling over. “Plop. That’s going to be me one day. Not eating makes me light-headed. That’s all.”

      Who was she trying to convince? Him? Or her?

      He almost laughed. And she still wouldn’t look at him, and that was when he knew. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt she found him attractive.

      Well, well, well.

      Little Miss Animal-Rights Activist was into him. He wasn’t sure if he should be flattered...or scared.

      “Don’t worry,” he said softly, closing the distance between them and tipping her chin up.

      She gasped.

      He tried not to laugh. He had no idea why he did it except maybe he supposed it had something to do with the number of times she’d driven him insane with her actions and her comments and her innuendos and assumptions.

      He pretended to examine her. “Your eyes aren’t dilated or glazed over, so no hypoglycemia.”

      “That’s good,” she said softly.

      “But if you fall down, I’ll catch you.”

      He released her. She blinked. He smiled. She turned the same color as her hair.

      Oh, yeah. She found him attractive, all right.

      So what are you going to do about it?

      Drive her crazy, he told himself. Completely and utterly crazy. Maybe then she’d leave him alone.

      Chapter Three

      She couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

      Mariah ran back to her car while he finished up with the pasture horses. With any luck, she’d have gained control of her emotions by the time they met up again, at least she hoped so, anyway, as she pulled to a stop in front of his home. She found herself pausing for a moment after reaching between the passenger seat and driver’s seat and grabbing a brown bag with her hors d’oeuvres.

      She peered out the front windshield in curiosity. His home was gorgeous. A real showplace. Absolutely nothing of the original ranch remained. The outside consisted of three A-frames that sat side by side, with the middle portion bigger than the rest. Redwood siding complemented the massive windows along the front. The landscaping alone had to have cost 100 grand.

      When she opened the car door and stepped outside, she could smell the redwood mulch used to line the planters of the gardens.

      At least she didn’t smell him anymore.

      He’d told her to go on inside, but it still felt odd to open one of the double doors.

      “Wow.”

      Okay. There was nice, and then there was niiiice. Cavernous didn’t begin to describe the place. Huge beams supported the middle-section roofline—like the rib cage of a dinosaur. A parquet floor stretched from the fireplace on her right to the entertainment center on her left. Straight ahead a trio of windows overlooked