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“One of the largest beef ranches in the state. Maybe even the west. And Corrine has an extensive horse program,” Jaren agreed.
That made Trinny look at him. “Breeding?”
He ducked his head in the familiar nod she was finding sexier and sexier. “Trains them too. We’ll probably see her here a few times today. She pops in and out taking care of her horses.”
“What kind of horses does she have?”
He shrugged. “I know horsepower, not horseflesh. I’m still learning.”
She eyed him. “What do you mean, ‘still learning?’”
“I wasn’t raised to this life, but I admit it has a pull on me.”
She squirmed again. Oh god, those words had a pull onher. They resonated so strongly to someone with her history that tears prickled in her eyes.
By the time Jaren parked the truck, her vision had cleared. She hopped out and waited for him to circle to her side.
The mere scent of all the things she loved the most—hay and fresh-cut grass and even the smell of horses—flooded her with joy. “I can’t believe you brought me here today.”
When he stared into her eyes, awareness plucked at her. He could probably see through her a little too much. Feeling uncomfortably vulnerable, she cast around for something to say to shift the focus away from her emotions.
“What should we see first?”
“Let’s check the bunkhouse and see if anyone’s around. I want to let them know we’re here.” Jaren twitched his head to the side, urging her to follow. She could barely keep up with his long, loping strides but caught up with him at the bunkhouse door.
Without bothering to knock, he twisted the handle and poked his head inside. “Hello?”
A voice responded from within. Jaren grabbed her hand and towed her through the door behind him.
It took her eyes a moment to adjust from the brilliant sunshine to the dim interior, but once she was able to focus, she was even more enchanted.
The pine woodgrain covering the walls gave everything a rustic look, and comfortable-looking couches and armchairs were pushed up against the walls. A deck of cards had been abandoned on the worn but well-scrubbed wooden table, the cards sliding in a slight fan from someone bumping the table.
A single man stood at the sink, washing his hands. When she saw the water running red, she let out a gasp. “You’re injured!”
The guy looked up, eyes concealed under the shade of the Stetson he wore. “Just a scrape. My momma always claimed I bleed like a stuck pig.” He flashed her a grin comprised of brilliant white teeth that contrasted with his tanned-to-leather skin.
She realized he wasn’t as young as she thought on first sight. He looked to be in his sixties and the beard glinted with silver, not blond as she’d initially thought.
Jaren stepped up beside the man to get a look at the wound. “Not too bad. What can I do to help you?”
“Grab the first-aid box in that cupboard there.” He nodded toward a corner cabinet.
Trinny looked on as Jaren retrieved the plastic box stuffed with bandages, tape and bottles of peroxide.
The man shut off the water, and with his finger wrapped in a paper towel, he leaned against the counter to direct Jaren. “Grab me one o’ those big bandages.”
“You think it needs medical glue?” Jaren held up a tube. Then he darted a look at Trinny. “You need to sit down.”
She stepped up to the man she had yet to be introduced to. “I’ve seen my share of blood and broken bones. Let me help.” She held out her palm, waiting for the man to place his on top so she could get a better look at the wound.
All eyes were on her as she examined the injury. “It isn’t exactly a scrape, now is it, mister?”
A huff of a laugh burst from the tough older man. “Girlie, I don’t even know your name and you’re already giving me hell.”
Jaren grunted in amusement. “August, meet Trinny.”
“Hand me the bottle of peroxide.” She held out a hand, waiting for Jaren to do her bidding.
