Page 18 of Sweet Courage

Used to it? He seriously considered whether or not her version of a loaded hot dog—Texas style—wouldn’t make an excellent weapon of war. The enemy didn’t stand a chance.

Still grinning at his efforts to hide how badly his mouth still burned, she nudged his shoulder. “We might turn you into a Texan yet, California.”

A chuckle rumbled in his chest. “I don’t know about that.”

They fell into step together, weaving through the maze of parked vehicles toward the Sweet ranch rig. The noise of the auctioneer was muffled out here, replaced by the low murmur of men negotiating private deals in the shade of their trailers.

“So,” Kat picked up a stray jalapeño slice and tossed it onto her hot dog, “how are you liking the auction so far?”

“It’s fun. I think some of these people are crazy for spending so much money on a horse, but it is entertaining to watch the entire production.”

Kat laughed, a bright, unbothered sound that made a couple of passing cowboys turn their heads. Hanson noticed and shifted his stance slightly, angling his shoulder to casually block their line of sight, keeping her squarely in his own orbit.

They rounded the back of a massive silver stock trailer and spotted the ranch truck. The heavy metal rear door of the Sweet trailer was swung wide open. Clint was inside the dim interior, his voice a low, steady rumble as he tied off a lead rope to the interior rings.

Colleen stood at the base of the ramp. Eyeing the horse carefully, her stance stiff, her shoulders tense, she looked like a woman who wasn’t quite sure if she’d hit the jackpot or made a massive mistake.

Hanson stopped a few feet away. The chestnut gelding he’d noticed in the pens was currently resting a hind leg, its bottom lip loose, looking entirely unimpressed by the fact that it had just been sold and loaded into a metal box.

“Lunch has arrived,” Kat announced with a little too much enthusiasm for someone who had just eaten a fire soaked hot dog.

Alice reached for the remaining hot dog trays. “I’ll put these in the front seat, we can eat on the ride home.”

Nodding, Kat slid her booted foot onto the bumper, grinning like she’d been the one to win the bid. “I can’t believe that this is one of the horses Connor suggested.”

“His first choice.” Colleen beamed. “For me, the gray seemed too reactive. One thing I learned from Connor and Hannah is that a good therapy horse won’t flinch if a patient loses their balance, drops a crutch, or yells unexpectedly. It has to be the most chill horse on the planet.”

“This one certainly seems to fit that bill.” For some reason, Hanson found the way the horse ignored them all totally fascinating.

Colleen blew out a slow deep breath and smiled at him. “If I hadn’t any doubts, watching this boy just stand there while he’s manhandled and secured, I am positive I got the most chill horse in the auction.”

“And for a great price too.” Alice, careful of where she stood, gently patted the animal’s rump.

“I’ll tell you one thing.” Clint stepped out of the trailer. “This boy has the temperament of a golden retriever.”

Kat turned slowly, her shoulder bumping against Hanson’s arm. Shaking her head at him. “You picked him out all by yourself.”

“I noticed him. Not sure that’s the same thing.”

“I don’t know.” Colleen leaned against the side of the trailer. “Connor Farraday has been doing this his entire life, and it took him three pages of notes to explain why this horse was the right fit. You did it in ten seconds.”

Once again, Kat bumped his shoulder. “Come clean. Was your grandfather a rustler? Did you grow up on a secret ranch in the hills of San Jose?”

“My grandfather was an accountant.” Swallowing the last bite of hot dog, he crumpled the paper wrap and lobbed it into a nearby trashcan. “The closest I’ve ever gotten to a horse is the merry-go-round in Santa Cruz.”

Clint slammed the door shut, setting the heavy steel drop pin into place. The chestnut inside didn’t even shuffle its feet. “Hate to break up this cultural exchange, but, unless we’re buying another horse, there’s still work to be done at the ranch.”

Heads nodded. Someone muttered next time, and Hanson didn’t have a clue who was smiling brighter, Colleen or Alice Sweet. Side by side, at the driver’s side of the crew cab, Hanson pulled the heavy door open for her.

Just like she had on the way there, Kat climbed in and slid to the middle of the bench seat. There was no doubt in Hanson’s mind that the ride home was going to feel even longer than the ride out. Time to pull up his big boy boxers and sidle up to Kat. What was wrong with him? A beautiful woman seated beside him. Maybe he’d hit his head even harder than he’d thought.

Beside Kat, Colleen stared down at the papers the auction company had given her. “We’re going to have to give this guy a more reasonable name.”

“How so?” Kat narrowed her gaze, trying to follow what Colleen was reading.

“His registered name is Smokey Joe’s Last Call. That could be fun if he were a racehorse, but not so much for an ordinary therapy equine.”

“It does sound more like a pub or barbecue joint.” Kat bit back a teasing grin.