Breaking the Cowboy's Rules (Wildhorse Ranch Brothers Book 1) Page 2

  "Should I call beforehand to make an appointment?" Sabrina asked as he stepped down off the porch.

  Trevor said nothing in response; just tipped his hat brim in farewell, deepening the shadows across his face and hiding the way his mouth twitched slightly upward despite his best efforts.

  "Well, I happen to think Sabrina's a great addition," Trent said. "Spunky. Beautiful."

  The sun had risen to take its noontime place in the sky, and the two brothers had retreated inside the easternmost stable block to escape its rays for a bit. Trevor had shed his coat hours ago and now had his sleeves rolled up. He plunged elbow-deep into one of the metal water troughs he had brought in from the pasture, scrubbing off the algae and crud that had accumulated over the last three months.

  "Two out of three isn't bad," Trevor said cryptically from inside the tub.

  He heard Trent chuckle. His brother leaned in the aisle, chewing a piece of straw and doing little else to be constructive. Apparently, now that Trevor had returned to take the lead on things, Trent thought he had earned himself a break from chores. "Leave it to you to make a checklist for a woman," his brother replied eventually. "No wonder you're still single."

  "You're one to talk." Trevor used the back of his wrist to wipe the sweat from his forehead as he rose. "How long you been without a woman now?"

  "You're right." Trent grimaced. "Must have less to do with organization and more to do with our damn looks. I forget sometimes we share the same genes."

  Trent may have been Trevor's identical twin, but their disparate personalities had manifested themselves physically long ago. It sometimes felt to Trevor like he was looking in a funhouse mirror, where every feature was the same yet somehow inverted, rather than directly at his twin. Trevor found the time to shave less often than his brother did, and his skin was dark in comparison to Trent's town-tan. The heels of their work boots still made them equally tall, and the physical activity required by their professions made them equally broad, but Trent's face was a lot pleasanter to look at, or so Trevor thought. His brother gave up a smile or laugh far more readily, and he put people at ease with no effort at all; he had laugh lines to Trevor's frown lines.

  Trent's identical dark eyes sparked with humor all of a sudden. Trevor had the distinct feeling he was about to find out he was the punchline to some secret joke his brother kept, but was surprised by Trent's next comment. "Might share the same taste in women, too," Trent hinted.

  An image of Sabrina came unbidden into Trevor's head. For a city girl, she was just about everything he had been expecting her to be, down to her impractical designer jeans, and yet…their first encounter had left him feeling strangely winded. He couldn't be certain it wasn't all the breath he had expended on arguing with her. She had an animation and energy to her that the profile picture on her company's website simply hadn't been able to convey.

  So yes, at the end of the day, Sabrina Hearthstone had surprised Trevor. He wouldn't deny that he found her attractive, and something told him her eager personality was just as magnetic to anyone who happened to enter her orbit. Personally, he didn't know what to make of it.

  Still, if Trent insisted on continually throwing the adventure coordinator at him as a distraction, he supposed he would have to set his brother straight. "I can't speak to taste," he said finally, "but what we don't share is the same opinion about things. This whole 'glamping' thing is just a temporary means to an end," he reminded his brother. "The ranch is still going to operate like it always has. Once we're out of the red, I'll cut the adventure program and send Miss Hearthstone and her glue gun on their way to bedazzle someplace else."

  "Does Sabrina know that?" Trent asked.

  "Miss Hearthstone and I have reached an understanding," Trevor said curtly. "She stays out of my side of the business, and I stay out of hers. We come together to discuss any overlap. At the end of the day, nothing happens on this ranch without my stamp of approval. Same as it's been since Grandpa passed."

  "You know, it might not be a bad idea to consider changing with the times," Trent reminded him. They’d had this conversation more than once since the untimely death of their grandfather, and Trevor never warmed to it. Change, and one as significant as what his brother hinted at, wouldn’t so easily fit into the schedule, even if he wanted it to begin with.

  "Grandpa James was a good man," Trent continued. "He didn't mean to leave you in a hole…"

  "I'm sure he didn't mean to leave at all," Trevor grunted.

  "But he wouldn't want you to stay in that hole on his account either, Trev. Hell, you're a horseman. You know better than I do that the most recent stock he purchased isn't paying for itself. And without them, you don't have the money to make that balloon payment he still owes," Trent concluded. "Wildhorse doesn't have to just breed quarter horses. Why don't you admit this glamping program is a good idea? It might just be the thing that saves your sorry ass and keeps the ranch operating for another season."

  "I'll find a way out of this on my own." Trevor turned away to work a kink out in the hose. "Always have before. More importantly, the ranch will find its way out. So, you don't need to worry yourself with trying to retroactively contribute to the family legacy. Grandpa didn't expect you to care about this sort of thing before, and I certainly don't expect you to start caring now."

  "And when this sort of thing happens again?" his brother demanded angrily. Trevor could see that he had hit a sore point, and it wasn't exactly unintentional. A part of him felt guilty for continually stonewalling his brother, but another part knew it was only a matter of time before Trent threw up his hands and walked away. "You could have the most successful breeding program in the world, and you're still going to run into this sort of trouble again down the line! It's inevitable!" Trent exclaimed. "You need a back-up plan for the long haul, brother. You need a gal like Sabrina bringing fresh ideas to the table. Lord knows you don't listen to me—maybe you'll be more likely to listen to reason when it comes from a beauty in blue jeans."

  "Sabrina doesn't belong here!" Trevor snapped. The stable block descended into silence. When Trent didn't respond immediately, Trevor glanced up from his work to see if his rise in temper had caused his brother to retreat. Trent was leaning on the other side of the aisle, same as before, only this time he appeared to be keenly studying him.

  "Then send her back and choose another coordinator," his brother stated finally. "Hell, choose another program. One that better suits your narrow idea of what you think this place is. One that you're comfortable dealing with."

  "I'll deal with Miss Hearthstone just fine," Trevor responded as he kneeled to scrub once more. "So long as she follows my rules."

  2

  Sabrina

  "And I was thinking we could pair each guest up with one of the ranch hands for a day," Sabrina continued excitedly, her pink ostrich feather pen wagging behind her clipboard as she jotted down elaborations on her idea. "Maybe Tuesday? Because according to the schedule you left me, Mr. Wild, there appears to be plenty of time in the later hours of the morning on the ranch's slow day—"

  "No such thing as a slow day," Trevor interrupted her.

  The wagging pen paused, and Sabrina closed her throat quickly over a sigh of exasperation. They had been going at it all morning like this. She was currently perched on a stall partition, trying—and failing—to get Trevor's undivided attention. Wildhorse's taciturn owner was currently shoveling out the stall across the aisle from her own, the bunched muscles of his back offering her few clear signals about how well she was communicating her ideas.

  She privately suspected he had chosen the location of their first meeting for a reason, and one that had only partially to do with the chores he insisted couldn't wait. Well, if Trevor had thought that all the dust in the air and the pervading smell of horse manure would be enough to drive her away, he had thought dead wrong.

  Sabrina's grandparents, Forest and Harriet Hearthstone, had been the proud owners of their own ranch until their health
had forced them to sell it, and Sabrina was no stranger to the filthier aspects of horse upkeep. In fact, there was a particular, even overpowering, nostalgia factor to this life that she continued to seek out. Why else would she take so readily to a job that pushed her out of the city? Why else would she be so damn good at it?

  If only Trevor would accept that she was the sort of professional he needed! Sabrina's eyes narrowed in a secret glare at the rancher's back, taking in the triangular sweat stain that darkened his shirt between his powerful shoulders. She wasn't afraid to sweat, and she certainly wasn't afraid of hard work—it just so happened that hard work came in many forms.

  She caught sight of the frilly pen out of the corner of her eye. Was it the pen that made him doubt her? It had been a gag gift from a friend. She could get another pen.

  "Right. No such thing as a slow day," she echoed. "But you have to allow your workers a break, right? So why not give them a little additional time out of their day to show our guests around?"

  "Because I don't have any hands to spare for that sort of thing, end of story," Trevor stated. He heaved a shovelful of manure over his shoulder without looking, forcing Sabrina to dodge to the side to avoid some of the dirt that overshot the wheelbarrow. "I already let most of the seasonal workers go to cut costs. The ones who stayed understand that they already have their work cut out for them this year."

  "Well, that's the beauty of my plan, Mr. Wild," Sabrina replied patiently. "You won't need to 'spare' anyone. And as for cutting costs, by the time I'm done spinning things, our guests will be happy to follow the ranch hands around and help them with their chores. They are effectively paying you for the chance to experience all that Wildhorse has to offer—and that includes discovering what it really takes to keep a ranch like this running."

  Trevor paused in his shoveling and finally turned to look at her. Sabrina couldn't decide whether he was incredulous of her brilliant idea or dubious that she wasn't completely out of her mind. What she did know in that moment was that sweat and dirt only made the rancher appear more irresistibly rugged.

  He's the real deal, Sabrina thought. As much as she hated to admit it, she was a little in awe of Trevor Wild. She had been operating under the misconception that real cowboys had died out long ago, but one stood before her, a flesh-and-blood update to that vintage romantic trope.

  The adventure coordinator in her couldn't help but think the stoic ranch owner might unwittingly prove to be one of Wildhorse's main attractions. Market research told her that their clientele would be made up of almost exclusively city women and upper middle-class families. She knew from past experience that families had a way of occupying themselves, but women….

  Deep down, Sabrina felt certain that what every woman wished for was fantasy. Enchantment. A little bit of grit mixed in with their decadence, an introduction to a simple yet lavish reality they had always suspected existed far removed from their own. They wanted an escape from the rat race and responsibility—they wanted the chance to return to the outgrown idealism of their girlhood, where wonderful beasts and handsome princes and all of life's hardships could be tamed with a brave outlook and a gentle touch.

  And she, Sabrina Hearthstone, could fulfill that longing for them—finally make those seemingly far-fetched fantasies a reality. It was the best job in the world, as far as she was concerned.

  So, whether he liked it or not, she was going to have to promote Trevor Wild a bit, even if she had to do it behind his back. Some candid shots of the rancher posted to Wildhorse's social media accounts ought to get a few hearts racing. The fact that she was using her own heartbeat as a gauge just went to show how personally she took her work.

  Trevor removed his hat and perched it on the post beside him, revealing a head of close-cropped dark hair. He then reached down, grabbing a fistful of T-shirt, and Sabrina…well, she nearly fell over backwards into the stall in surprise. The thought of him actually removing his shirt hit her like a sucker punch in the stomach, and she quickly raised her clipboard to block her own view and pretended to scribble quickly.

  Wait…why was she acting this way? She was a grown woman! It wasn’t like she had never seen a partially-naked man before, even if it had been a while.

  Sabrina lowered her clipboard and studied the rancher. As it turned out, Trevor was only using the hem of his T-shirt to mop some of the sweat and grime off his face. Her eyes tracked lower, taking in his smooth chest and the way his abdominal muscles clenched beneath a sheen of perspiration. For someone who insisted on wearing a belt, his pants sure rode low around his hips….

  Trevor's strength, when on unconscious display this way, seemed completely natural and effortless. She doubted if he had a gym membership or if such a conceit had ever even crossed his mind—endless days full of hard work toned his body to perfection. He probably didn't even know how good he looked.

  In the next instant, he let go of his T-shirt and turned back to the wheelbarrow. The spell broke, and Sabrina blinked. The moment had taken her by complete surprise, and she was unsure what it might bode for the future. She had never had to battle her admiration for a client before. She had never had to battle any client before as fiercely as Trevor was forcing her to.

  "You want to watch it with those," he mentioned offhandedly.

  Sabrina blinked again. "Huh?"

  Trevor gestured toward her earrings, a pair of sterling silver hoops designed as horseshoes, which Sabrina had designed herself and was extremely proud of. "Your jewelry. You want to watch it, especially if you insist on sitting on the stall door like that. All it takes is one tug from a curious horse come in from the pasture to put you over the side."

  It's not the horses I'm worried about, she thought mutinously. She fingered her earlobe and scowled. She may or may not have been expecting a compliment with her choice, but she simply could not win his approval.

  "I don't want to know your opinion on my fashion choices, Mr. Wild."

  "Really?" he asked as he turned back to his work. "Because I have a lot of them, and they aren't just opinions. I would make you a list of everything you've worn already that isn't ranch-appropriate or poses a safety hazard, but I'm not certain you'd have anything left to wear."

  "I'm sure you would make a list!" Sabrina fired back. "But I'm a professional woman. I know how to dress myself, and what I choose to wear isn't up for discussion. What I would really like to hear from you is some constructive feedback on the ideas I've been pitching to you all morning!" She rapped the clipboard with her pen to emphasize this. "And every single brainstorm I've come up with you've shot down like a…like a can of beans on a fence post!"

  Trevor groaned at the simile. "I'm not trying to shoot your ideas down, Miss Hearthstone." Sabrina scoffed at this, and Trevor shot her a look that conveyed his wearying patience. "Forgive me if I don't think our guests are going to want to muck out stalls after their bubble baths," he muttered as he levered the wheelbarrow up and moved it to the next stall.

  The lightbulb went on suddenly in Sabrina's head. Her pen paused its tapping, and she looked up at Trevor. "Mr. Wild, you may not look it, but you're a genius," she said.

  "You city folks sure love to pair an insult with a compliment," he said. Still, he paused again in his work to lean against the stall and consider her, his dark eyes thoughtful. "What brilliant thing did I say, and why do I have a feeling I'm going to regret ever mentioning it?"

  Sabrina dropped her clipboard onto the footstool beneath her and hopped down after it. "I think this idea is best expressed through a demonstration," she said. "And since you were the inspiration for it, Mr. Wild, I think it's only fitting that you're the one who helps me."

  3

  Trevor

  "I still can't believe I let you talk me into this," Trevor muttered a half hour later.

  They stood together in the aisle with the barn door flung open. Peggy, one of the older, gentler mares in the Wildhorse herd, stood placidly between them, shifting her weight every few minutes and
aiming a switch of her tail at the occasional fly.

  Sabrina ducked beneath the lead rope and grinned, taking one hand from Peggy's neck to give him a thumbs-up. She had taken her ridiculous earrings out, at least, and pulled her hair into a silky blonde ponytail. Peggy took it upon herself to investigate whether the woman's unfamiliar hairstyle was as delectable as it looked. Sabrina laughed and pushed her away again.

  "Relax," she assured him. "I can already tell this girl is a real sweetheart. This is going to be a piece of cake!"

  "Have you ever bathed a horse before?" Trevor asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. Sabrina's instincts around horses and the easy way she carried herself around Peggy had surprised him more than he cared to admit. She had more experience than he had anticipated, and a dim curiosity kindled in him every time he looked at her. What was her history? Her story? Was there more to the adventure coordinator than her doomed attempts to glamorize a lifestyle he had assumed she knew nothing about?

  Clearly, she did know a thing or two, and Trevor couldn't help but feel the need to find out more.

  "How hard can it be?" Sabrina rolled her sleeves up and dropped to a squat beside the big metal wash bucket. "I mean, really. It can't be that different from bathing a dog. Trust me, our campers are going to love this." She popped open the bottle of scented bath soap she had retrieved from her bunkhouse and let a little more spill into the swirling tub. "Not only do they get the chance to bond with individual horses and actively participate in spreading the luxury around, but you get clean, shiny ponies at the end of the day. Everyone's happy and fulfilled. It's a win-win!"