to ribbons.”
Temper bubbled anew within Trent as he halted beside her. Resting one hand on his hip, he gave her a humorless smile. “Really? Why, thanks for sharing that information with me, Ms. Chancellor. I’m much obliged.”
She frowned at him. “Don’t be sarcastic. I’m trying to help.”
“By telling me how to fence in my horses as though I don’t have a clue?”
She raised an eyebrow. “I was merely making an observation.” Coolly, she brushed his attitude aside. “So, where are the halters?”
“In the tack room.” He enunciated each word, stating the obvious. “I’ll get them. Think you can make sure those mares don’t run back through the downed wire?”
Bailey’s slight hesitation made Trent wonder if his original instincts were right. She appeared confident, yet something about her demeanor left him thinking she was a little wary of the horses.
“Fine,” Bailey said, turning to watch the mares. They now trotted around the pasture, ears alert, nostrils flared as they snorted loudly.
“You sure?” Trent asked.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
Trent decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. “Okay, then. Be right back.” From the tack room in his barn, he took two halters and lead ropes, then returned to where Bailey waited.
He handed her a purple halter and rope, and for some stupid reason noted that it was damn near the same color as her eyes. Maybe his cap was on too tight. Bailey held the halter a bit awkwardly and fumbled with the buckle.
Amused, Trent watched. “You’ve got it backward,” he said, not sure what to make of the entire situation. Did she or did she not know how to handle a horse?
Bailey flushed and promptly turned the halter around, this time opening the buckle and holding it in the proper position. “I see that now,” she said. “Which horse do you want me to catch?”
“Dokina and Shafana are both alpha mares,” he said. “If we get them, the others should follow.” He produced a pair of wire cutters from his back pocket and snipped the downed strands of wire from the wooden post they’d been stapled to. Removing the wire was the only way to bring the horses safely back through the fence, since there was no gate in this section.
With Bailey’s help, Trent set aside the wire, disgusted that he’d have to restring it, thanks to the dog.
As though reading his mind, Bailey spoke. “I’ll help you put the fence back up later.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Yes, it is. My dog caused this.” With a sweep of her hand, she indicated the downed wire and the loose horses.
“I thought you said he wasn’t your dog.”
“He’s not exactly, but I hope he will be sooner or later. He’s a stray,” she clarified when he looked at her, curious. “I’ve been feeding him.”
“No wonder he seems familiar,” Trent said. “I’ve seen him around here before, several weeks ago, as a matter of fact, though he’s never chased my horses until now. I’m pretty sure he was dumped.”
“I can relate,” Bailey mumbled.
“How’s that?”
“Nothing. Which one is Dokina?” She walked toward the horses.
He followed. “The chestnut with the blaze and no stockings.” He fumbled in his pocket. “Here. You’ll need these.”
Bailey faced him, and he placed four horse cookies in her hand, trying not to notice how soft her skin was as his fingers brushed her palm. Come to think of it, she smelled good, too. She’d caught her hair up in a ponytail, and golden-brown wisps strayed around her face as the hint of a breeze stirred the air. Today, she wore a yellow T-shirt with her jeans, and the same sneakers she’d had on yesterday. She reminded him of sunshine and a fresh breath of air.
He didn’t want to notice that about her, didn’t want to experience the desire to touch her. Amy had left him, Sarah was gone, and he didn’t plan on feeling anything for anyone ever again.
“They’re cookies,” Trent said as Bailey stared down at the flat, rectangular alfalfa pellets.
“Not chocolate chip, I’d wager,” Bailey quipped.
He fought a smile. “Some people call them cake. Take your pick, but you’ll need them to get close enough to catch any of the horses.”
Bailey crooked her mouth and arched one eyebrow. “Spoiled, huh?” Her words should have sounded accusatory, but somehow they didn’t. Her whiskey voice seemed to carry indulgence.
“No,” Trent said defensively. Then he lost his battle with the smile that kept tugging at his mouth. “Well, maybe just a little.”
Bailey drew back and gazed solidly at him. Then her own lips curved. “You should do that more often. Smile, I mean. Looks better on you than that scowl you usually wear.”
Trent grunted and let the smile disappear. “I thought we were catching horses.”
“Okay, okay.” Bailey shook her head and gave her attention to Dokina once more. Trent watched as she crooned to the little mare and held out a cookie. Dokina perked her ears and stretched out her neck to investigate, taking a tentative step in Bailey’s direction. Two other mares came forward in response to the proffered treat. Immediately, Dokina pinned her ears and drove them away, teeth bared. The mares parted company with a volley of squeals and a show of back hooves, and all the while, Bailey stood her ground.
Trent shook his head and haltered Shafana, his favorite gray. He would have expected Bailey to run at the possibility of being smack-dab in the middle of a horse fight. But she only took a cautious step out of the way, then held the horse cookie out to Dokina once more. Though she fumbled with the halter a bit, she managed to slip it over the mare’s head and get it buckled into place.
Bailey looked at him, a triumphant grin spreading across her pretty face, and Trent’s heart did more than give a little jump. It was the first time he’d seen her smile with anything other than polite reserve, the first time he’d seen such an expression of pure, childlike joy on her face. He liked it, and that bothered him.
“Nothing to it,” Bailey said, walking toward him, leading Dokina.
Trent fell into step beside her with Shafana. The other mares followed, as he’d known they would. Some had marks from the wire on their legs and chests, but fortunately none was hurt beyond those few minor scrapes, which hadn’t done more than skin off small spots of hair and hide. A little nitrofurazone ointment would have them good as new.
Bailey’s eyes sparkled. “They’re beautiful.” She nodded toward a golden-red chestnut with flaxen mane and tail. “I love that one. What’s her name?”
“Bint Sihanna Bronnz.”
“Quite a mouthful,” Bailey said. “Is she for sale?”
He shook his head. “No. These are some of my broodmares. I raise and sell foals. I also travel around the show circuit, pick up horses here and there, then resell them.”
“I see. Well, I hadn’t planned on looking at your horses this way, but since I’m already here…”
He was quiet for a moment. And he hadn’t planned on being with her this way. Hell, he hadn’t really wanted to hang around her at all. Business was business and he’d agreed to show her what he had for sale, but he’d had every intention of doing so on his own terms, in his own time. Now, with Bailey walking toward the barn, leading Dokina and chatting with him as though she belonged right here, he felt confused and off balance. He’d tried hard to keep everything in his life orderly and mapped out since Amy had left him—since he’d lost Sarah. It was the only way he could deal with his emotions,