Man of Her Dreams by Tami Hoag Page A

Maggie’s ripe little mouth pinched into an annoyed frown. Darn him, he’d outfoxed her. Now she was going to be stuck with that mangy mutt. “Not until he’s had a flea bath and is in decent health,
friend.
” She ground the word between her teeth like grist in a mill. “The way he looks now, he’d scare off the tourists.”
    â€œI’ll get him fixed up right as rain. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
    â€œDon’t look so smug, sugar,” she warned, taking one hand off the reins long enough to shake a finger at him and his self-satisfied smile. “You owe me for this, and I
will
collect.”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 
    â€œCollection time,” she muttered to herself on a long, heartfelt groan as her numb feet hit the floor of the stable. She leaned heavily against Killer, her cheek pressed to the smooth leather of the saddle flap. Ry hadn’t bothered to help her down off the horse, so she had managed the task herself, deciding it was probably a lot like rappelling down the side of a mountain.
    The ride had barely ended and already she felt as if someone had flogged her from head to foot with the narrow edge of a yardstick. The silver lining to this black cloud of pain was the payment she planned to extract from Rylan: a long, slow rubdown by a pair of big, strong hands.
    â€œYou’re a genius, Mary Margaret,” she whispered to herself. But when she turned to tell Ry of her magnificent and wonderfully devious plan, he was preoccupied with the dog.
    â€œMarlin will see to the horses,” he said, leaving his mount with the groom. He turned and headed for the room where the medical supplies were kept, stepping around a three-legged black lab and over a beagle. The terrier was still slung over his arm and seemed to be enjoying the ride. His ears perked in interest as he panted happily.
    Maggie followed, only temporarily thwarted by Rylan’s disinterest. It took all her concentration to put one foot in front of the other. The muscles of her calves seemed elongated and uncontrollable. Her lower back was cramping, and her bottom hadn’t been as sore since the time her daddy had spanked her for calling her sister Lisa Jane a poop-head during church. Wincing, she sank gratefully onto the nearest chair and watched while Ry collected the supplies he needed from the orderly, well-stocked medicine cabinet.
    She watched him work with quiet efficiency, carefully cleaning the dog’s wounded paw, applying medication and a neat white bandage, all the while mumbling to the dog affectionately. The little dog sat whimpering, but never tried to get away, obviously trusting Ry.
    â€œYou’re very good at that,” Maggie said.
    He shrugged the compliment off. “It cuts down on my vet bill if I can handle minor problems myself.”
    His modesty touched a sweet spot in her heart. Katie had told her that Ry had never given up studying veterinary medicine, even though their father’s death had prevented him from finishing his schooling. He obviously had a talent for it. She wondered if he ever wished things had worked out differently. Would he tell her if she asked? She doubted it. It was too soon. But he would open up to her eventually. She promised herself he would.
    When he finished with the dog, Ry put the terrier in a roomy wire cage with food and water, then went to wash his hands at the utility sink. “He’ll stay in there until we get him fed up a bit. That way he doesn’t have to compete with the others at feeding time, and he won’t run off his calories. I reckon he’ll mostly eat and sleep for a few days anyway. I’ll let you know when he’s ready to go home with you.”
    â€œI can hardly wait,” Maggie muttered. What had she gotten herself into? Miss Emma was flexible; she’d probably go for a dog. Mrs. Claiborne, on the other hand, was something of a starched skirt. At any rate,