Wedding Bells at Wandering Creek. Patricia Thayer

and a long-sleeved denim shirt. She noticed he had on the boots she’d given him. He looked as though he belonged here. But he didn’t and she had to remember that.

      “Since you don’t know much else…” She began to lift her saddle, but he stepped in.

      “I have a confession to make.” He took the saddle from the stand, then followed her out of the room and back to Dakota’s stall. “When I was twelve, I spent a summer on a ranch.”

      “What else have you neglected to tell us, Mr. Sullivan?”

      He placed the saddle on the bench and his dark eyes locked with hers. “That’s pretty much it.”

      She nodded. “Then I guess we both can get to work.”

      He cocked his thumb toward the tack room. “Come on, Willow, you can’t send me back in there.”

      “It’s not my call,” she told him. “Trevor probably had a good reason for putting you to work there.”

      “You’re the boss. You make the rules.”

      She folded her arms over her chest. “Maybe I should just ask what job you’d like.”

      He braced his shoulder against the post and grinned. “Okay, I’d like to go riding with you.”

      She couldn’t hide her surprise. “You’re kidding, right?”

      He just kept on smiling. “What can I say? I like playing cowboy.”

      “Riding a horse can be dangerous. You need to know what you’re doing.”

      “It’ll come back to me.”

      She opened the stall door. “I can’t risk it.”

      “Can’t or won’t?” he asked. “I’ve done what your mother asked. Aren’t all the other hands going to wonder why I’m stuck in the tack room? At least let me prove that I can handle a horse.”

      Willow hated to admit it, but he was right. He was trying to cooperate. Her problem was she didn’t want him here at all.

      She latched the stall. “Follow me,” she told him and marched down the aisle. She stopped three stalls away where a gray gelding was housed. “This is Cisco. He’s pretty gentle.” She patted the animal’s forehead. “He’ll be your mount.”

      “You’re serious?” He reached out and stroked the horse’s neck, impressing her with his ease around the animal. “You’re going to let me ride.”

      “Only if you can tack up your own horse. Do you think you can?”

      He grinned again and her pulse soared.

      “If it will get me out of the barn, I’m willing to give it a damn good try.”

      “Okay, but don’t think you’re going to get out of working. All the hands carry their weight.”

      “Yes, ma’am,” he said with another of his disturbing grins.

      Willow didn’t want to find him disturbing. “Good, because the tack will be waiting for you when you get back.”

      She turned and walked away, hearing him chuckle behind her. The sound made her smile, too.

      But inside, Willow knew that this man was a threat to her and her family. All the time he was here he would be watching them. She had to be vigilant. Jack Sullivan was a man with a mission. He would throw her brother to the wolves if need be.

      Twenty minutes later Jack grabbed a straw cowboy hat off a peg and led a saddled Cisco out of the barn. So far so good, he thought. He was enjoying himself. Something he hadn’t done in a long time.

      He found Willow in the corral. She was bending over, checking her horse’s front hoof. He couldn’t help but notice how nicely her jeans fit over her rounded bottom and legs.

      He quickly shook away the direction of his thoughts. He needed to keep his focus on the job. That made Willow Kingsley off-limits.

      Willow released the horse’s leg and straightened. “Well, that didn’t take too long.” She walked around Cisco, checking how well Jack had done saddling the animal.

      She took hold of the stirrup and tossed it over the saddle to check the cinch. Pushing on the horse’s side, she tested to see if the strap was tight enough. It was.

      She eyed him. “So, you learned Cisco’s trick.”

      He adjusted his hat. “You mean when he holds his breath until you think the cinch is tight, then lets it’s out when you try to mount and your saddle slips? Yeah, I did. He isn’t the only horse who pulls that. So do I pass the test?”

      “Let’s see how you handle him.”

      Jack glanced around and found they had an audience. A few of the ranch hands had gathered to watch. Then Trevor came out of the barn and walked toward them. “Hey, Sullivan. I thought I left you cleaning tack.”

      Willow stepped forward. “I’m the one who relieved Jack of the job.”

      The foreman frowned. “Willow, do you think this is a good idea?”

      “What’s so unusual about a ranch hand riding?” Willow asked. “Seems Jack already knows how.”

      Adams looked angry. “You don’t say,” he said through clenched teeth.

      Jack really didn’t want to make an enemy of the man, but he wasn’t about to back down, either. “It was a long time ago, so Willow offered to help me with a refresher lesson.”

      The foreman turned back to Willow. “I can assign Larry to him.”

      She shook her head. “They all have work to do today. And so do you. I thought you were going to the Carson place to check on the extra saddle horses.” She looked at Jack. “We have neighbors who are willing to loan us some mounts for the camp. We want to be sure we have enough horses for all the kids.”

      “That’s a lot of animals to feed and care for.”

      “And it’s the reason we can’t have any distractions,” Trevor told him. “Everything needs to be in place before the kids arrive at the end of next week.”

      Willow stepped in between the two men. “Then you better get going, Trevor. And be sure to thank Mimi Carson for me.”

      “Will do,” Trevor said, tossing another warning glare at Jack before he stalked off.

      “He’s very protective of you,” Jack said.

      Willow smiled. “I know. I used to be annoyed by it, but there have been times…that I’ve been grateful.”

      “Like when I showed up.”

      She tipped back her cowboy hat and exposed her face to the warm sun. “Maybe. If you’d done any research, you’d know that Trevor Adams is family. His father, Sligh Adams, was my dad’s stunt double and best friend. Trevor and I practically grew up together. He’s like a brother.”

      “Are you sure Adams thinks of you as his sister?” Jack asked. And would the man’s loyalties go so far as to hide Dean? he added silently.

      Her smile disappeared. “That’s an old tabloid story, Mr. Sullivan. So if you’re trying to dig up dirt—”

      “No,” he interrupted her. “I apologize, I have no right to speculate on your private life.”

      “That’s right, you don’t. You know nothing about who I am, or who any of the Kingsleys are.”

      Seeing the hurt in her eyes, he wished for once he’d kept his mouth shut.

      “Here’s another rule,” she began. “From now on, my personal life is off-limits…unless it pertains to finding Dean. If you can’t agree to that, our deal is off.”

      She didn’t leave