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“No, it doesn’t,” Amber agreed. “But throwing a fit when you don’t get it does.”
Did I really throw a fit? She sighed. Yeah, I did. Poor Judy. It’s a wonder she still lets me back in her shop.
Determination gripped her. The town of Bakersville would see a new Angelina Bay. She’d learn to ride as well as Catie, and she’d do it without throwing a single tantrum.
Well, she’d try, anyway.
“Do you know a ranch hand at Catie’s named Rafe Grayhawk?”
Amber smiled. “Yeah, I’ve met him a few times. He’s a hottie.”
Hottie? That term didn’t do Rafe Grayhawk justice. Angie hadn’t been able to take her eyes off the tall, broad-shouldered man. The streams of sunlight through the boards on the barn ceiling had cast little highlights of indigo onto his long black hair. He’d worn a checkered shirt rolled up at the sleeves, and those forearms as they curried the horse…so sexy. His jeans clung just loosely enough over what she knew must be a fantastic butt. Yeah, she was a butt girl.
Give me a nice tight ass over pecs any day.
Though she didn’t mind pecs. What might Rafe look like without his shirt?
She imagined he smelled like the musky outdoors. Course, she hadn’t been able to smell anything but horse this morning.
She shook her head to clear it. Gorgeous as he was, he’d been a jerk. Who did he think he was? I am his employer’s sister, for God’s sake.
“He’s going to teach me to ride.”
“Wow, really? He gives lessons?” Amber smiled as she massaged Angie’s right forearm. “Come to think of it, I’m getting a little rusty. Could use a refresher course.”
Something sharp cut into Angie’s gut. A twinge of…what? Jealousy? Not possible. She had no interest in Rafe Grayhawk. He was way beneath her. So why did it bother her that Amber indicated an interest in him? Of course Amber was interested. She was female, she was straight, and she had a pulse. Who wouldn’t be attracted to Rafe Grayhawk?
“You don’t need a refresher course, rodeo queen. You ride great.”
“Still, to spend some time in the company of that hunk—”
“He charges a hundred dollars an hour.” That ought to get her.
“A hundred an hour? He must be damn good.”
He’d better be.
She’d find out in the morning.
Early in the morning.
Chapter Two
“You’re late.”
Angie glanced at her watch. “By seven minutes. It’s still the butt crack of dawn.”
“Get here on time tomorrow or we’re done.” Rafe eyed her up and down. “Jeans, good for a start. Get some riding tights with leather seat patches. Your posterior will thank you.”
“My posterior? I have ridden before, you know.”
“When? For the rodeo queen shindig?”
God, that was fourteen years ago now. She grinned. She’d been crowned Bakersville’s youngest rodeo queen at a mere eighte
en years of age. But she’d ridden since then. Hadn’t she?
“I guess it’s been a while.”
