Wyoming Sweethearts. Jillian Hart

chin and shoulder. “How may I help you?”

      “Yeah, this is Nate Cannon. I need to talk with Eloise.”

      “Dr. Cannon.” The local vet. A kick of anticipation charged through her, so she grabbed a pen off the front desk and poised it over the memo pad. “I’m Eloise. Did you happen to hear about my mission?”

      “Cheyenne clued me in. She said you folks are looking to buy horses in need, and I happen to know of a pair.”

      “Bless you.” She’d tried the local agencies and organizations over the last handful of days, but no luck. “Where are they? What are they like?”

      “Two geldings, as gentle as could be. Their owner passed away a while back and the folks who inherited the land don’t want to keep them. It’s hard to sell horses this old, so if your boss is looking to make a difference in an animal’s life, she wouldn’t regret taking them in.”

      “They sound perfect.” The poor things. She glanced at her watch. Wendy should be back from her break in a few minutes. “Could I take a look this afternoon?”

      “I’ll give you the address and phone number. Now, these folks aren’t the most agreeable so you might want to bring someone with you who really knows horses. Like Cheyenne. I’d offer, but I’ve got a show horse with colic to get back to and a busy afternoon after that. You could call my receptionist. She might be able to book you a time.”

      “Thanks, but I’ll call Cheyenne.” After getting the necessary information, she buzzed Cady, who was delighted at the prospect of horses for the stables, then dialed her best friend’s number.

      “Hello?” A familiar baritone rumbled across the line. “Stowaway Ranch.”

      “Is this Sean?” Why was she smiling? The man simply had that effect on her. She was curious. That was different from interested.

      “Eloise. How are you doing?”

      “Fine enough.” Was it her imagination or did he sound glad to hear from her?

      “Are you calling for Cheyenne?”

      “Guilty. She promised me use of her horse expertise. Tell me she’s there.”

      “I wish I could but she took off to do some shopping in Sunshine. Should be gone all afternoon. I might not be an expert when it comes to horses, but I’m no slouch either. What kind of help do you need?”

      “Uh …” Brilliant answer. Her brain decided to short circuit again. “The vet found some horses.”

      “Oh, and you need someone to go with you. I can do that.”

      “Uh …” Was she stuck on that word? What was the matter with her?

      “It’s a slow afternoon and I like to make myself useful. I can bring a horse trailer.”

      “I can’t say no to that.” Especially since she didn’t own a vehicle capable of pulling one. But did she really want to spend an afternoon with the most gorgeous man she’d ever met? She was fairly sure judging by the amount of friendliness in his voice that he hadn’t noticed her cane yet. She dreaded the moment when he did, but putting horses in the inn’s stables was her new assignment. She wanted to do her job well. “Let me give you the address.”

      “Great. I need something to write with.” A drawer banged open before he came back on the line. “Got it.”

      “You probably know where this is already, but the vet gave me detailed instructions.” She gave him the information. “When can you get there?”

      “Give me thirty minutes?”

      “Thirty minutes it is. Thanks for helping out, Sean.”

      “Hey, that’s what friends are for.” He set down the pen and folded the scrap of paper.

      “I didn’t know we were friends.”

      “A friend of Cheyenne’s is a friend of mine.” He ignored Mrs. Gunderson who bustled into sight with a laundry basket balanced on one hip. A lone wolf could have a friend or two and still be a lone wolf, right? “I’m happy to help. I like what Cady’s doing. She could be filling her stalls with pampered horses, but she wants to make a difference. I’ll see you soon.”

      “Thanks, Sean.” Eloise’s gentle alto was about the prettiest sound he’d ever heard. She wasn’t fake, like some women he could think of—Meryl came to mind—but honest and sincere. He liked that. Those were just the right qualities for a friend.

      He hung up and caught Mrs. Gunderson’s raised eyebrow as she paused midway up the stairs, free hand on the rail. There was no mistaking that motherly look.

      “What?” He held up both hands, the innocent man that he was. “I didn’t do anything.”

      “I didn’t say a thing.” She had raised five sons of her own, so he knew she was wise to the ways of the male mind. “You call me if you aren’t coming home for supper.”

      “Why wouldn’t I be home for supper?” He grabbed a chocolate-chip cookie from the jar. “This isn’t a date. It’s a humanitarian mission. Well, an animal welfare mission.”

      “You like that girl.” Mrs. G. narrowed her gaze at him. “Don’t try and fool me.”

      “I’m not fooling you. I like her. What’s not to like? But I don’t like her.” After Meryl, he’d be stupid to. A smart man would be leery after being used like that.

      “Sometimes the best things come along when we aren’t looking for them.” She went on her way, padding up the stairs and out of sight, her words carrying up to him. “All things are possible to him who believes.”

      Boy, did she have the wrong idea. Sean shook his head. Mrs. G. couldn’t be more mistaken. When he wiped a crumb off his shirt, he noticed his T-shirt had a hole in it. His jeans sported grass stains and his work boots were dirty.

      Maybe he’d better go change. Getting spiffed up had nothing to do with seeing Eloise. It was simply a matter of cleanliness. He took the stairs two at a time, whistling.

      “This must be the place,” Eloise said to herself as she glanced at the reflective numbers stuck to the side of a battered black mailbox. Although two numerals were missing, the description matched the vet’s directions so she eased her car off the paved county road and onto a driveway that was more dirt and potholes than gravel. She listened to the rush and whap of weeds and grass growing in the center of the lane hitting the underside of her car. Hopefully there wasn’t anything big enough to do any damage. She gripped the steering wheel tight and eased up on the gas pedal.

      Something dark and large lumbered up behind her, filling the reflective surface of her rearview mirror. She recognized that dark blue pickup. Sean. The sunshine seemed brighter, although that was probably an illusion and had nothing to do with the man’s appearance. She eased around a hairpin corner and a dilapidated covering built out of corrugated metal and weathered two-by-fours came into sight. It huddled sadly against a broken-down fence. Barbed wire hung dangerously from listing and rotting posts. Most of the grass had been eaten away from an acre-sized field, where two horses pricked their ears, spotted the truck and came running.

      She pulled to a stop in front of a carport that had seen better days. A rusty truck rested in the shade. Overgrown grass danced in the wind as she watched Sean’s vehicle pull up beside her. Maybe the last wheeze of the air conditioner was the reason the hair stood up on her arms. She did not want it to be a reaction to the man strolling into sight. She braced herself for the inevitable and reached for her cane.

      Sean Granger looked like a western hero in his long-legged worn blue jeans. The white T-shirt he wore emphasized his sun-kissed tan and as he swept off his Stetson, muscles rippled beneath the knit cotton blend.

      He raked one hand through his brown hair and smiled down at her as he opened her car door. His dreamy blue eyes captured her with a steady stare and then his gaze