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Holding out her hand, she murmured encouragements and slowly advanced until she was close enough to touch Melody. The filly pulled back as far as the wire would allow, as Bindi’s fingers landed on the soft spot between her ears, but she made more soothing noises, and moving as slowly as she could, eased her hand down to run it gently along the horse’s neck. The filly was trembling with fear and pain, and Bindi wanted to scoop her up into her arms and whisk her off to safety. But safety was a pipe dream if she couldn’t get the filly loose first.
A low voice behind her left shoulder almost made her startle, but she forced down her reaction, not wanting to scare Melody further. “Use this to cover her eyes,” a voice as smooth as velvet told her. A piece of clothing appeared in front of her; a black T-shirt, if she wasn’t mistaken. So, the stranger hadn’t left after all. “It’ll help keep her quiet while we work on her leg,” the steady voice continued. Bindi was conscious of the man standing right behind her, his presence setting all the hairs on top of her arms to tingling.
Without turning around, she took the shirt, and ever so slowly, draped it over the filly’s eyes, tying the corners underneath the horse’s hard little cheekbones. It worked. The baby horse stopped struggling and stood there, head down in defeat. Why hadn’t she thought of that?
“Thank you,” she breathed, stepping to the side, away from the man’s discomforting proximity.
“No problem.” He also took a step back and flashed her a winning smile. Wow! Winning smile was an understatement; it almost blinded her.
“I don’t have any of those plier things you asked for.” He raked a dark eyebrow upwards. “But I do have a small wire-cutting tool on my Leatherman, if you’ll let me take a look.” He pulled a large multi-tool set out of his pocket and gestured to the wire still wrapped around the filly’s hoof.
Who was this guy?
There was a swagger in his stride and a hardness in the line of his jaw. Bindi stared into eyes the color of amber liquid, the breeze carrying the aroma of his masculine aftershave to her nostrils. He had a self-confidence about him, an aura that made her want to lean into him. Draw his scent right into her lungs. And perhaps run her tongue down the tanned stretch of his throat, just to see what he tasted like.
What the hell…?
Hastily stepping to one side, she kept her hand on Melody’s neck and made room for the man to hunker down and get to work on the wire. Madonna was still standing a few feet away, but she seemed to realize they were only trying to help her baby and had stopped pawing at the ground.
“You must do things a little different here in Queensland,” the man drawled conversationally, not looking away from the twisted mess of fencing. She liked his honey-toned twang, it reminded her of something dark and sweet, like molasses or butterscotch.
“How do you mean?” she queried.
“Where I come from, most cowgirls I know don’t wear short, pink skirts and barely-there tops while they rescue horses from fences.” This time he tipped his head up to stare at her, his gaze traveling appreciatively up her legs, lingering as he got to the low cut of her top.
“I was on my way to a party,” she replied defensively. “Why? Where do you come from?” she demanded.
He doffed his hat, amber eyes crinkling at the corner. “Mack Diaz at your service. Straight out of Montana, the land of the Big Sky country.”
Bindi was hit with sudden comprehension.
“You’re Mack?” She should’ve realized. Of course, he was. If she hadn’t been so caught up with Melody, she might’ve worked it out sooner. “We weren’t expecting you for another three days.”
Mack grunted, and, with one final snip, he cleared the last of the wire from the filly’s fetlock. He stood and met her gaze. “You must be from Stormcloud Station, then, if you know who I am.” The filly stood, shivering slightly, but not trying to get away because of the blindfold still around her head. Bindi ran a soothing hand down the baby animal’s neck.
“Yes, I’m the chef’s assistant,” she replied. Bindi didn’t understand the part of her that wanted to cringe as she said this. She’d always been terribly proud of her work with Skylar. Without her permission, her mouth blurted, “But I also help Steve and Dale with the horses when I get the time.” For some reason, she wanted Mack to know she was as competent with the outdoor duties as much as the indoor side of station life. Although, why she wanted this cocky cowboy’s respect, she had no idea. “I’m Bindi, by the way,” she added belatedly.
“Hello, Bindi. Nice to meet you.” He flashed her another brilliant smile and held out his hand for her to shake. Taken by surprise, she slid her hand into his and had to stomp on the sudden flash of heat caused by his work-roughened fingers inside her own. At least that proved he was telling the truth about one thing; he was a cowboy, after all. “Well, it’s lucky I am early. How were you planning on getting the filly and the mare back to the station on your own?”
Wait, she hadn’t thought that far ahead. Oh, just bloody awesome. Now she was stuck with this new cowboy, and two horses who needed rescuing. The wind chose that particular moment to blow in hot swirls across the road, lifting her skirt and making it flutter higher up her thighs. She caught the hem and held it down so he didn’t catch an eyeful of her underwear. Never wearing a skirt ever again, she decided.
The next thing she knew, he’d rolled up his sleeves and gently picked up Melody, easing her long-limbed body through the wire and holding her against his chest. For all his suave dress sense, he had no qualms about getting down and dirty with the filly. It eased her misgivings about this newest cowboy a tiny bit.
He turned toward her yellow ute and she couldn’t help but let her gaze wander down his figure. He was lean, lithe like a cat, but there was surprising strength in those arms, as he carried the foal as if she weighed nothing at all. She hurried across the road after Mack to let the tailgate down, and found an old blanket to spread out, so he could ease the foal into the truck bed, making sure to keep the blindfold securely in place.
“Easy,” he crooned to the foal, wrapping the edge of the blanket around her vulnerable body. But all the fight seemed to have drained from Melody, and she lay as meek as a lamb in the bed.
Madonna whinnied desperately from behind the fence.
“Don’t get your knickers in a knot,” Bindi called to the horse. “We’re going to take care of her.”
“What do you plan to do with the mare?” Mack asked, still leaning into the rear bed.
“I’m not too sure…” She pursed her lips, thinking hard. “There’s a service gate a little way up the road, we could bring her through there. But I don’t have anything…” She trailed off as Mack began undoing his belt, the big-ass buckle glinting in the sunlight. What in the hell was he up to? Mack held the belt out to her, and she stared at it as if it were a snake about to strike.
“It’s to tie around her neck, so we can lead her,” he said, tawny eyes narrowing at her obvious unease.
She snatched the belt from his hand and said, “Good idea. I’ve got something we might be able to use as a lead rope in my car.” She had an ancient stock whip that old Neville had given her when she’d left her first job as a rookie jillaroo up at Nelson’s Park cattle station in the Northern Territory when she was only seventeen. He’d made her promise to learn to use it, and she had become fairly proficient with it over the years. It was tucked behind the driver’s seat because she didn’t want to lose it.
“I’ll sit in back with the filly and lead the mare, while you drive, if you like?” Mack had already jumped into the rear tray and settled himself with one elbow on the wheel arch and the other on the filly’s flank. “We can come back and collect my vehicle later.”
“Right.” But Bindi didn’t move. She knew she was staring, but she couldn’t help it. Who was this guy? So sure of himself. Were all American cowboys the same? Because if they were, she didn’t want to meet any more.
