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“Your down payment is due by tonight,” Macie continued, her gaze steady on Briggs, “or the discount is no longer valid.”
Maybe Holt should pull up a chair; it seemed that Macie had this all covered.
Briggs blinked, then he grinned. “I like her, Holt. Didn’t know you got a spitfire negotiator employed at Prosperity.”
Holt hadn’t known that, either.
“Shake on it?” Briggs held out his hand to Macie.
She placed her hand in his, and Briggs’s smile widened even more.
“It’s a deal, sir,” she said. “We’ll look forward to that payment and taking good care of your horses.”
“Well, I’ll be . . .” Briggs said. “And since we’re in business together, pretty lady, I’ll be obliged if you call me Briggs.”
“My pleasure, Briggs,” Macie said, that smile of hers announcing her dimple. “You have a nice day now. Holt will keep you updated on the progress of your fine horses.”
Briggs smirked, then he laughed. “I’ve no doubt of that.” He tipped his hat, then nodded to Holt. “Good day to y’all.”
As Briggs walked away, or strutted away, Holt pulled out his wallet.
“Here,” he said to Macie. “You just made me about four hundred dollars, so here’s your commission.”
She looked at the two hundred dollars in his hand. “Um, no. I’m staying at the house for free. I’m not taking a commission.” She moved closer to him and pressed a finger against his chest. “You need to stick to your prices, Mr. Ranch Manager. Don’t negotiate.”
Holt looked down at his chest to where she was touching him. “You think I’m a pushover?”
Her dimple appeared, and she stepped back. “I think you shouldn’t let a guy like Briggs tell you what to do.”
“Oh really?” Holt held back a smile. “Like you are telling me what to do?”
“That’s different.”
“How’s it different?” he asked, taking a step closer.
“It just is.”
“Take the commission,” he said. “You earned it.”
Macie raised her hands and moved another step toward the barn. “No, I’m not taking it.”
He moved closer. “I’m serious, Macie. You were brilliant with him, and good things don’t go unnoticed on this ranch.”
Macie laughed, moving back again. She was nearly to the barn wall. “So you happen to have a wad of cash in your back pocket to dole out commissions?”
“Got paid in cash this morning by another client,” he said. “Haven’t had time to go to the bank yet.”
“I’m still not taking it.” She moved against the barn. “Use it for, um, a new hat or something.”
“You don’t like my hat?”
“It’s fine, it’s just . . . seen better days.”
Holt tried to act offended, but he couldn’t stop his laugh. “You shouldn’t ever insult a cowboy’s hat.”
She lifted her hand and tapped the brim, bringing them even closer. “It’s a decent hat, but I don’t think a new one is going to hurt anything.”
He grasped her hand before she could lower it, and his breath slowed. He didn’t know what his intentions were, but the warm smoothness of her skin felt nice against his roughened hands. And she still smelled of apple blossoms. Was it perfume? Shampoo? Lotion?
