The Maverick's Wedding Wager. Joanna Sims

he could button his shirt. He never took his eyes off Genevieve. She was the sexiest darn tomboy he had ever met. Whenever he saw her, it made him sorely regret that he was dedicated to sticking to his self-imposed dating moratorium. His father was paying big bucks to a matchmaker to marry off his sons and Knox had no intention of going along with the plan quietly. If he had to give up dating for a good, long while, then that’s what he was going to do—but he’d do it his way.

      As she finished her task of putting on her chaps, she looked up to find him staring at her. There was no use trying to play it off—she had caught him dead to rights.

      “How many do we have today?” Genevieve asked, all business. She was the one woman in his new hometown of Rust Creek Falls that he’d like to flirt a little with him, and yet she seemed to be the only one who didn’t. When she came out to the Ambling A, she was friendly but always professional and on task.

      “Four,” he told her.

      “You know,” she said, “we could get all of these horses on the same trimming schedule. It’d be easier on you.”

      “Naw. Then I’d only get to see you once a month.” He said with a smile. “I’ll meet you down there.”

      Genevieve had a routine and he knew it well. She had a policy that the owner, or an owner’s representative, had to be on site when she trimmed hooves, and from her very first visit back in June, Knox had been the one to greet her. There was something special about the time he spent with Genevieve while she worked; he could talk to her in a way he’d never been able to talk to another woman. In fact, he could talk to her like she was one of his brothers. She liked to do guy stuff and she wasn’t overly concerned with her nails and her hair and she was as pretty as they came without makeup. Perhaps the confident, no-nonsense way Genevieve comported herself was why he felt, for the first time in his life, like he had begun a genuine friendship with a woman. The fact that she was easy on the eyes was just a bonus.

      Knox slipped the halter on his big dappled gray gelding, Big Blue, and led him down the wide aisle of the barn to the cross ties where Genevieve had set up her hoof stand.

      “How’s Blue today?” The farrier ran her hand down the horse’s neck as she always did, checking out the horse’s body and stance before she moved to the hooves.

      “No complaints.” He hooked the cross tie onto Blue’s halter to keep the horse standing in one place while Genevieve worked.

      “He’s got a good weight on him.”

      “He’s fit, that’s for sure.”

      Genevieve finished her inspection, circling back to the horse’s left front hoof. Unlike any other farrier he had ever seen, she knelt down beside Blue’s front left leg, lifted it and let it rest on her thigh while she took one of her tools from a pocket of her chaps. On the first day she’d come out to the ranch he’d asked her about her unusual trimming posture—kneeling instead of standing, which was the standard because it was safer for the farrier. Genevieve’s answer had stuck with him—she had said that it was all about the comfort of the horse for her. Yes, it was more dangerous, but she trusted the horses and they trusted her. If she had to get out of the way, she knew how to do it. That night he had gone to his father, who was convinced that hiring a woman farrier was bad business, and told him that he had just met one of the most talented farriers he’d ever known. And to this day, he hadn’t changed his mind about Genevieve.

      “How’s he looking?” Knox moved closer to Genevieve, liking the way she would flip her long, thick braid over her shoulder.

      “He looks great.” She glanced up from her work to nod at him. “The walls of the hoof are strong, the frog has got good give, and it’s been so rainy and wet these last few weeks, I’ve been seeing a lot of thrush out there, but Blue’s don’t have any signs of that.”

      “All good news then.”

      “All good news.”

      After that brief exchange, Knox leaned back against a nearby wall and watched Genevieve work. She was fast and efficient, another trait he appreciated about her. She didn’t smoke or spit tobacco, or take extended breaks in between horses to shoot the breeze about hunting or to recount worn-out rodeo stories like the past farriers he had hired. Genevieve kept her focus on the horse, even during the times when they had a conversation going.

      “He’s ready to go back to his stall.” She unhooked Big Blue from the cross ties.

      Knox had been so lost in thought that he hadn’t even noticed that she had finished. Those moments when he had been brooding about the conflict he was having with the father had raced by without him noticing.

      “He’s already done?” He pushed away from the wall. “That was quick.”

      “Quick and competent.” She handed him the lead rope with a smile. “Bring me my next victim, please.”

      Knox led Big Blue back to his stall before he grabbed a dun mare with a black mane and tail and a tan body his father had just purchased for breeding.

      “Who’s this beauty?” Genevieve’s face lit up at the sight of the new addition to the stable.

      “Honey.”

      Genevieve rubbed the mare between the eyes, and the mare, who had been head shy and skittish around most of the ranch hands at the Ambling A, lowered her head and nuzzled the farrier’s hand.

      “And, you’re sweet like honey, aren’t you?”

      After her standard body and leg check of the mare, Genevieve went to work. The first order of business was pulling the mare’s shoes; Genevieve had a reputation of being one of the best “barefoot” farriers and could often get a horse sound without shoes. Some horses required shoes, but it was best for the horse if they could have their hooves natural like God made them.

      “Walk her forward for me so I can see her walk,” Genevieve instructed once she pulled the last shoe off the mare. “Let’s see how she does.”

      After a couple of cautious steps where the mare was trying to get used to the odd sensation of walking without metal attached to her hooves, she began to walk naturally without any signs of lameness.

      With a pleased smile, Genevieve waved her hand. “Bring her on back. She’s going to do just fine without shoes.”

      It didn’t seem like any time at all that Genevieve handed the new mare off to him as she prepared for the third horse of the day. She was halfway done and he had wasted their time together lost in his own thoughts.

      “I’m sorry I haven’t been much company today.” He didn’t know why he felt like he owed her some sort of explanation. Most visits they had a lot to say to each other. But today he couldn’t seem to get out of his own head.

      Genevieve, in keeping with her easygoing manner, said, “Don’t worry about it. There’re plenty of days I don’t feel like talking, trust me.”

      That was just the thing—he wanted to talk to somebody about his situation with his father. In fact, he felt like he needed to talk to somebody about it. It was eating him inside out keeping it all bottled up. Lately, he swung like an erratic pendulum from furious to just plain fed up and he was always thinking about a way to show his father, once and for all, that he couldn’t meddle in his life. He was a full-grown man and he was dog tired of his father thinking that he could control him like a puppet on a string.

      Knox had chafed under his father’s rule for most of his life. Even as a kid he had wanted to set his own course, to make his own decisions. Max ruled the family with a proverbial iron fist—he was the boss and his word was first, last and final. There had been plenty of times when Knox thought to take a different path in life and leave the family business behind but one of his brothers would always reel him back in to the fold. In fact, his decision to move to Montana in the first place was touch and go. This move would have been the perfect excuse to start a new chapter in his life without having to always bend to his father’s will. Yet, here he was, in