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“I was trying to make a point. You were being disrespectful.”
“I’m not used to being respectful to hands.”
“Well, get used to it. We’re people, just like you, and disrespect hurts us, just like it hurts you.” Though he doubted she’d ever experienced disrespect.
Her eyes widened—just a little, but he’d made her think. For a second, anyway.
“All right…Rafe. When can we start?”
“You got a horse?”
“Yes. Just bought her. A beautiful black mare named Belle.”
“Have her brought over by seven tonight.”
“Okay.”
“And I’ll see you tomorrow. Six a.m. sharp.”
This time when her hands flew to her hips her eyes turned to saucers. “Six a.m.? Sorry. I don’t do the crack of dawn.”
Rafe shook his head. “And you expect to own your father’s ranch someday? Do you have any idea what time he gets up? Chad and Catie are up before five every morning.”
“I’m not Catie.”
She was right about that. Did the two of them really come from the same gene pool? The physical evidence was there, but little else.
“Six a.m.,” he said, “and wear clothes suitable for riding.”
She stormed out, sulking.
Rafe chuckled. No way would she show up.
