Montana Wrangler by Charlotte Carter

her good sense.
    Thunder bent his head over the top railing toward her hand.
    â€œSteady now,” Jay crooned, either to Thunder or Paige, she wasn’t sure which.
    Thunder’s big lips parted, revealing huge teeth. Paige almost bolted. But the horse kissed her palm with those lips in the gentlest of touches, testing the apple, then lifting it into his mouth.
    Paige blinked, studied her palm, which was still intact and looked small in Jay’s much larger hand. She met his blue-green gaze. “His lips are so soft.”
    Jay’s mouth tilted at the corners. “Soft as...” His thumb caressed her palm. “As soft as your hand.” He’d lowered his voice to a deep, masculine timbre that rolled through his broad chest.
    Still gazing into his eyes, she slowly withdrew her hand.
    â€œI’ve got another piece of apple if you want to try it again,” he said, his voice tempting her.
    â€œI, um, I have to call my boss.” As if Jay were a magnet holding her close, it took all of Paige’s mental concentration to move away from him.
    â€œAnother time, then.” He touched the brim of his cowboy hat.
    â€œYes. Maybe. We’ll see.” Breathless, her heart racing, she hurried toward the main house. It had to be the altitude that made her feel off-kilter. The cool, crisp mountain air. Clearly, as soon as possible, she needed to return to Seattle and sea level where she’d be able to catch her breath again.
    * * *
    Thunder Boy nudged Jay’s shoulder looking for another treat. He rubbed the horse’s velvety nose.
    â€œOkay, boy, you earned it.” Chuckling a bit, Jay palmed his last piece of apple. “Thanks for not biting her.”
    Thunder lipped the apple into his mouth and nodded his appreciation.
    Jay had met few people who were as afraid of horses as Paige Barclay was. Even fewer who had softer hands or who smelled so sweet. Like a bunch of honeysuckle growing alongside the trail. Impossible not to miss the perfume after you’d ridden on by.
    He’d felt her tremble when he had taken her hand. Was that from fear? Or from something else?
    He climbed back over the fence and untied Thunder’s reins. His job was to check out the trail to Arrowhead Cove, see if it was clear of winter debris, fallen trees or washed-out areas. He wasn’t supposed to lollygag around thinking about a woman with soft hands and a fear of horses.
    It would be better if he could come up with a way to make her realize she wasn’t a suitable guardian for a twelve-year-old boy who loved horses.
    Not suitable for Jay, either. Every inch of Paige Barclay shouted she wanted to return to the city. She belonged there.
    Mounting, he turned Thunder toward the corral gate.
    As he walked his horse past the big house, he spied Paige’s footprints in the soft ground leading up onto the front porch.
    That woman really ought to get down to the general store and buy a pair of boots suitable for walking around the grounds and stable at Bear Lake Outfitters. Those high heels she wore might look fine on her and were okay for traipsing around on plush carpet in a fancy hotel, but not out here on the ranch.
    But mountain country was different. She needed to learn that. Or go back home.
    * * *
    She’d tracked mud clear across the front room.
    Leaning against a wall, she took off her heels and stood in her stocking feet. Mud caked her shoes, ruining them.
    At the very least she’d have to start using the mudroom. And find some more appropriate shoes—and clothes—for whatever length of time she’d be here at Bear Lake.
    She walked down the hallway to Krissy’s room. Guilt and regret, mixed with a trace of anger, assailed Paige as she reached the closed-off bedroom. Sisters should be close. Best friends. Someone with whom to share hopes and dreams.
    That had never been the case between Paige and her sister.
    Had it been Paige’s fault? Or Krissy’s? Or