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Rebecca wiggled the basket. “The chicken coop is on the other side of the barn. Just gather what’s there. Should be enough with what’s still in the fridge.”
Naomi walked over, took the basket and handed her now-empty coffee cup to the other woman. “You know, I’ve never actually gathered eggs before,” she admitted, wondering why it sounded like an apology.
“Nothing to it.” Rebecca was already darting back into the coolness of the house. “Just reach under the chickens and grab them up.” She let the screen door slam behind her, then closed the wood door as well.
“Reach under the chickens.” Naomi looked at the empty basket, then lifted her gaze to the side of the barn where she could just make out another structure. A chicken coop. With chickens in it. Did chickens bite?
“I guess I’ll find out,” she muttered and started walking. If nothing else, this should take her mind off Toby. For now, anyway. She was headed across the yard, in no hurry to find out what reaching under a chicken was like, when Toby’s voice stopped her.
“Hey, Naomi, come on over here a minute.”
She changed course and walked to the corral, swinging the wicker basket with each step. Toby watched her approach, and even in the shadow of his hat, she saw those aqua eyes of his shining. Then Toby flashed a grin that made her heartbeat jolt a little, and Naomi told herself to get a grip.
Honestly, she’d always known he was a good-looking man. You’d have to be blind not to notice. But did he have to be gorgeous? Up close, his chest looked broader, his skin tanner, and every muscle seemed to have been carved out of bronze. She swallowed hard, forced a smile and said, “I’m supposed to be gathering eggs. Do the chickens mind?”
He laughed.
“Seriously,” she said. “How do you gather eggs?”
Shaking his head, he said, “You’re a smart woman. You’ll figure it out.” Toby opened the corral gate so she could step into the paddock with him. “I wanted you to meet Legend.”
The horse he held by the bridle was tall and golden brown, with a dark streak down the center of his nose. His big dark eyes locked on Naomi, and she said, “He’s beautiful.”
“He is,” Toby agreed. “I’ve had Legend with me since I was a kid. He’s been living out at Mom’s ranch, but I brought him here to Paradise a couple months ago. He’s old, and I wanted him to live out the rest of his life here. With me.”
“He doesn’t look old.” She reached out one hand to stroke the horse, but Toby grabbed her hand and pulled her back. “What’s wrong?”
“Probably nothing. You just have to be careful around him. Like I said, he’s an old man now and pretty damn crotchety.” Toby held the horse’s bridle tightly so she could slide her hand across the big animal’s neck. “He gets so he doesn’t like anybody—even me,” he said, with a chuckle. “So I just want you to be cautious with him.”
“Oh, you’re not dangerous, are you?” Naomi was no stranger to horses. It would be impossible to grow up in Royal, Texas, and not be at least comfortable around them. She’d never had her own horse and hadn’t really ridden much since high school, but she’d always liked them. And Legend, she could see, meant a lot to Toby.
“You just like getting your own way, don’t you?” she cooed as she stroked and petted the horse. “Well, I do, too, so we’ll get along fine, won’t we?”
“You the horse whisperer now?” Toby asked.
She shot him a look from the corner of her eye. “He’s male, isn’t he? A woman always knows her way around a crabby man.”
“Is that right?” One corner of his mouth tipped up.
God, he smelled good. He shouldn’t smell good after standing out in the early-morning sun, sweat already pearling on his chest and back.
“I’ve talked you out of every bad mood you’ve ever had.”
He laughed again and stroked Legend’s nose. “Not much of a test, since I’m not a moody guy.”
“Oh, really?” She tucked her arm through the handle of the basket and looked up at him. “When you couldn’t get the hydraulic lift to work on the patio table you built to go below ground?” It had been a terrific invention and one of her favorites that he’d come up with.
A picnic table that seemed to dissolve into a patio, with the push of a button, it lifted, pieces sliding into place until it was a concrete-topped table big enough to seat six. When you wanted it, there it was. When you didn’t need it, it disappeared, leaving only a patio behind.
“That was different,” he said, a slight frown on his face.
“How?”
“That wasn’t moody. That was frustration.”
“Frustration is a mood,” she pointed out, pushing her hair back from her face. “But did I talk you out of it or not?”
That frown slid into a smile of remembrance. “You did. Took me to the roadhouse for a beer and karaoke.”
