“Ms. Carroll, this is a working ranch, and those men are wasting time.”
Seth’s words echoed over the corral in a harsh cadence. Ryan slid off the rail and squared her shoulders as she stepped closer to him, so close she could see the stirring anger in his eyes.
“I don’t know what your problem is with me—” she began.
He closed the gap between them, voice dropping to a lethal growl. “My problem is you’re not doing your job. You’re supposed to document how Beckett Feed is grown, cut, and stored, and all you’re doing is fucking around.”
Ryan’s cheeks flushed. “There’s no need for that language, Mr. Harrison.”
He leaned in so her back bumped against the wood of the corral. “This is my ranch, Ms. Carroll. I’ll speak how I fucking please. If swearing bothers you so damn much, maybe you should just get the hell off my property.” He looked at Cull. “Cull, please take Ms. Carroll to the north pasture. Use the UTV.” He looked at Ryan then back to Cull. “This time.”
“Mr. Beckett sent me,” she shot back, chin high. “If you want me gone, see him about it.”
“Friday, you’ll go with me… on horseback,” Seth snapped.
“Fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m heading to the north pasture…to do my job.”
Without waiting for his reply, she strode to the parked UTV. The engine kicked over with a smooth hum as Cull cracked the throttle, and they rattled off down the sunbaked road toward the rolling green expanse of the north pasture. She’d take her photos, and Seth Harrison could kiss her ass.
****
Friday morning, Seth was enjoying a ride. Golden sunlight filtered through the branches overhead, dappling the dirt path. It had rained too much to plant but with the sun showing itself five days in a row, he was hoping it would start to dry up the earth so they could plant. Yeah, it was a beautiful—
“Your horse is gorgeous. What breed is he? His dark coat with that blond mane is so pretty.”
Seth sighed. For a few seconds there, he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone. “American Quarter horse.”
“I don’t know the breeds. Except maybe, Appaloosas, palominos, pintos, oh, and Clydesdales.”
Seth chuckled. “Well, you got two breeds there.”
“What do you mean?” She tucked a strand of windblown hair behind her ear.
“The two breeds you mentioned were Appaloosa and Clydesdale. The others are colors, not breeds.”
“Are you sure?” Her eyebrows arched skeptically.
Seth reined his horse in with a gentle tug, the animal’s muscles rippling beneath him as they came to a stop. He turned in the saddle, fixing her with a steady gaze. “Am I sure? I’ve known horses almost my entire life.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that one, but I’ve heard people say ‘pinto’ when they’d see a spotted horse.”
“Well, they were wrong, unless they were mentioning the color. The odds are it was an American Paint horse since most Paints are pinto. My horse is an American Quarter horse, and his coloring is chocolate palomino.” He patted the horse’s gleaming neck affectionately.
“Chocolate palomino? I’ve never heard of that, but he is gorgeous.”
“Thank you.”
“What’s his name?”
“Zephyr. He’s six years old and I’ve had him since he was born in the barn six years ago. Delivered him myself one night.”
“So, what breed is the one I’m riding?” She stroked her mount’s coarse mane.
“American Quarter horse.” He smirked.
“Is that all you have?”
“No, I have a few Paints.”
