What A Rancher Wants. Sarah M. Anderson

she noticed the animal he was leading. Gale was perhaps sixteen hands high, but the mule—Beast, Chance had said—made the quarter horse look like a child’s pony. It wasn’t that the animal was that much taller than Gale, for he wasn’t, perhaps another hand—no more than four more inches. But Beast clearly outweighed the quarter horse—perhaps by as much as half a ton.

      She gasped, more than a little afraid of an animal that large.

      Chance grinned at her. “Nothing to be scared of. Beast is as gentle as a kitten.” He patted the big animal’s neck before giving Gabriella a look that had nothing to do with horses. “You should make friends with him, too.”

      Far more than her cheeks flushed as Gabriella took a few hesitant steps toward Beast. His long ears—almost twice as long as Gale’s—swiveled toward her. “Hola, Beast,” she said, holding out a carrot on the flat of her palm. She’d long ago learned it was best to keep her hand as flat as possible. Holding a carrot or a sugar cube by her fingertips had gotten her nipped quite badly on the finger when she’d been six.

      Beast’s enormous lips scraped the carrot off of her hand, causing her to giggle. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

      “One of the best,” Chance agreed. He was almost shoulder to shoulder with her, his voice far smoother than she’d heard it yet.

      One of Beast’s plate-size feet stamped at the earth, which caused Gabriella to jump. If she hadn’t known any better, she would have thought she’d felt the shock waves from the impact. Chance laughed. “He likes you,” he said, that twinkle in his eye.

      “How can you tell?” She’d been stepped on by horses before, but Beast looked as if he would break every bone in her foot. She was in no mood to find out.

      “If he didn’t, he’d back up. He’s predictable like that.” Chance handed the reins to Joaquin. “There’s a mounting block over there.” Then he turned to Gabriella, that same twinkle shining brightly. “Let me help you up.”

      He crouched next to Gale’s side and laced his fingers together. Gabriella hesitated—she could swing into the saddle by herself—but if she wanted to make friends with Chance, she needed to be friendly. So she placed her foot in his hand and let him boost her up onto the horse’s back. Once she was in the saddle, he put his hand on her calf, right above her riding boot, and guided her foot into the stirrup.

      Her breath caught at the too-familiar touch. She hardly knew this man and still had not ascertained if he was a danger to Alejandro or to her—but the way his hand had felt strong and sure against her leg had not felt like a risk. Instead it had felt...safe. Which was ridiculous. She did not need his help getting settled into the saddle. He started around to the other side of the horse, but Gabriella quickly put her foot in the stirrup.

      Then he untied the reins and handed them to her. “Be right back,” he said, leaving her in a state of unfamiliar confusion.

      People, as a rule, did not touch her. To do so was to invite Joaquin to beat them senseless. And yet, Chance McDaniel had put his hands on her as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

      She turned the horse until she could see Joaquin, who had indeed used the mounting block and was now sitting astride Beast. He gave her a look that said, “Are you okay?”

      “I am fine,” she replied, although she wasn’t sure how true that was. “You?”

      Joaquin looked down at the ground and managed to nod his head.

      “You okay up there, big guy?” Chance came trotting out of the barn on a dappled gelding. When Joaquin nodded again, Chance asked, “What do you ride at home?”

      “Joaquin rides an Andalusian and I prefer my Azteca, Ixchel.”

      “I know what an Andalusian is, but what’s an Azteca?” As he asked, he pointed his horse away from the barn. Gabriella fell in stride next to him, with Joaquin bringing up the rear.

      “A mix of Andalusian, quarter horse and Mexican crillo,” she explained. “Ixchel is a paint. She is a well-trained animal. I always wanted to show her, but...” That had been another source of rebellion when she’d been fourteen and fifteen. Other girls in her social circle were making weekend trips to competitions and talking of Olympic dreams—all activities that were forbidden to Gabriella.

      “Why didn’t you?” Chance kept his gaze forward. His posture was relaxed, but she could hear something in his voice that was far more than casual curiosity.

      “Papa said that the competitions were not secure enough and he could not guarantee my safety if I went.”

      That got a reaction out of him. “Beg pardon?”

      “Joaquin is an excellent bodyguard, but in a crowded space filled with horses and people, he cannot control the situation the way he can at Las Cruces. That’s our family estate,” she hurried to add.

      “Wait, so—are you telling me that you don’t have a bodyguard because of what happened to Alex?”

      She could not decide if she liked the confusion in his voice. On the one hand, it was quite clear that Chance McDaniel had not known that—which was good because it meant that he had not done any surveillance or research into the del Toro family’s comings and goings.

      However, on the other hand, the way Chance said it made it clear that the idea of constant security sounded like more than a little overkill.

      “Joaquin has been with me for fourteen years,” she said, knowing that would only add fuel to Chance’s curiosity.

      “Are you serious?”

      “Of course. Mexico is not a safe place for the wealthy. People are kidnapped for exorbitant ransoms. It’s a business.”

      He appeared to mull over this information as the trail lead them farther and farther away from the buildings. “Is that normal, then? To have a bodyguard for a decade and a half?”

      “Oh, I have had a guard my entire life. Papa hired Joaquin after he bested my former guard, Raul.”

      She felt as if she might be giving too much away—this was the sort of information that could be used to help formulate an abduction—but it didn’t feel as though she was feeding him the things he wanted to know. Instead he seemed genuinely shocked.

      “What do you mean, ‘bested’?” His voice was level, but there was no mistaking the concern.

      She warmed at his tone. Perhaps she shouldn’t find it comforting that he was worried about her. Perhaps this was him on a fact-finding mission about how the del Toro family operated.

      But she didn’t think so. “All of the guards in our family have to withstand tests, if you will, of their ability to keep us safe. If they fail in their mission, they are replaced.”

      Chance pulled his horse to an abrupt stop, which caused her horse to stop, as well. “What?” His tone was not pleased.

      “It is not as bad as it sounds.” But this defense didn’t strike her as being particularly truthful.

      “Doesn’t that scare the hell out of you?”

      She couldn’t meet his gaze. “Usually the attempts are not very serious.”

      “But not always.”

      “No,” she replied softly. “Not always.”

      The last time, the “pretend” kidnappers had taken their assignment a bit too seriously. Gabriella had been driving into Mexico City to meet with a gallery owner about showing her latest collection of jewelry when... Of course, their car was completely bulletproof, so Gabriella had not been in real danger. Or so she told herself time and time again.

      “How bad was it?”

      The sound of Chance’s voice—low and with a slight rasp to it—called her back from her fear. She looked into his eyes and again was