self-defense, he began to scratch Hoodoo’s poll. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so tempted to touch a woman. Hell, if he laid a hand on her, she’d probably jump six inches and shy away just like one of the horses did to an unwelcome surprise, he thought ruefully.
But the face she turned up to him was alight with pleasure. “They’re so friendly! They’re just like dogs.”
For that moment, all the guardedness he’d seen in her was gone. Those eyes, huge and bright, shone with delight. And the way her mouth curved...
He’d have sworn he heard a cracking sound, the first ominous fissure in the Grand Coulee Dam, holding back the weight of enough water to wreak havoc through the whole Columbia River basin. Nobody else seemed to hear the sound, originating in his chest, where he’d built walls he would have sworn were rock solid.
Panic spiked, and he took a step back.
Irritable, that was his defense.
“Just so you remember, horses weigh two thousand pounds,” he reminded her and her son.
She shot a worried look at the boy before fixing her gaze on Gabe again. “Do they ever, well, step on you?”
“Yeah, I’ve had horses step on a foot. Sometimes they don’t even notice. That’s why it’s a good idea to wear boots around them.” He glanced at Mark. “You have any?”
“Uh-uh. Maybe I should get some, Mom.”
“Is leather really good enough?” she asked Gabe. “Or do you get steel-toed or what?”
Amusement eased his panic. “You ever seen a cowboy boot coated in steel?”
“Is that what I should get him? Cowboy boots?”
“Yeah, probably,” he said in resignation. Sure as hell, he’d be putting the kid up in the saddle before he knew it. Might have to do it on a lead line, if Mark didn’t turn out to have any more ability to center his weight when sitting than he did on his feet. Quarter horses had been bred to turn on a dime, whether their rider went with them or not.
“Well, okay.” Ciara gave him another sunny smile that had him backing up yet another step. “Thank you for...well...”
His eyebrows climbed. “Not shooting the dog?”
The boy grabbed his dog’s collar. “You wouldn’t!”
His mom’s smile turned to a glare. “Don’t say things like that!”
Gabe chose not to say anything.
Her eyes narrowed. “Do you have a gun?”
“A rifle. Yes, I do, ma’am.” Ma’am —that was good. Distancing.
“You hunt?” Her voice spiked with disapproval.
“I was raised hunting,” he said. “My family needed that meat on the table. But no, actually, I don’t.”
“Then why—?”
“Do I keep the Remington on hand?” He hesitated, not wanting to tell her it had been a gift from his dad, which at the time had meant something. In these parts, giving your son a fine rifle was a way to acknowledge he’d reached manhood. His father hadn’t been very good with words, but sometimes he’d done something that had made Gabe glow with pride. Not often, which is maybe why those rare moments stuck with him. “Anyone with livestock has to worry about coyotes or wolves,” he said instead. “If I heard someone breaking into my workshop, I’d reach for it, too.”
She looked shocked, giving him an idea how she’d cast her ballots. His mouth twitched. If he was right, she’d be in a minority in this corner of the state. The thought made him wonder anew what she’d been thinking, a woman raising her child alone, buying a house so isolated, in a county where she and her son might both have trouble fitting in with what neighbors they did have.
He glanced from her outraged face to Mark’s. The kid was kind of dorky-looking to go with his personality. Lips a little too big and loose, expression too open. Gabe’s amusement faded. Sure as hell, Ciara Malloy had gone for isolated on purpose. He just hoped she hadn’t made one hell of a mistake.
He dipped his head. “I need to be getting back.” He met Mark’s gaze. “You want a dog, teaching him
But the face she turned up to him was alight with pleasure. “They’re so friendly! They’re just like dogs.”
For that moment, all the guardedness he’d seen in her was gone. Those eyes, huge and bright, shone with delight. And the way her mouth curved...
He’d have sworn he heard a cracking sound, the first ominous fissure in the Grand Coulee Dam, holding back the weight of enough water to wreak havoc through the whole Columbia River basin. Nobody else seemed to hear the sound, originating in his chest, where he’d built walls he would have sworn were rock solid.
Panic spiked, and he took a step back.
Irritable, that was his defense.
“Just so you remember, horses weigh two thousand pounds,” he reminded her and her son.
She shot a worried look at the boy before fixing her gaze on Gabe again. “Do they ever, well, step on you?”
“Yeah, I’ve had horses step on a foot. Sometimes they don’t even notice. That’s why it’s a good idea to wear boots around them.” He glanced at Mark. “You have any?”
“Uh-uh. Maybe I should get some, Mom.”
“Is leather really good enough?” she asked Gabe. “Or do you get steel-toed or what?”
Amusement eased his panic. “You ever seen a cowboy boot coated in steel?”
“Is that what I should get him? Cowboy boots?”
“Yeah, probably,” he said in resignation. Sure as hell, he’d be putting the kid up in the saddle before he knew it. Might have to do it on a lead line, if Mark didn’t turn out to have any more ability to center his weight when sitting than he did on his feet. Quarter horses had been bred to turn on a dime, whether their rider went with them or not.
“Well, okay.” Ciara gave him another sunny smile that had him backing up yet another step. “Thank you for...well...”
His eyebrows climbed. “Not shooting the dog?”
The boy grabbed his dog’s collar. “You wouldn’t!”
His mom’s smile turned to a glare. “Don’t say things like that!”
Gabe chose not to say anything.
Her eyes narrowed. “Do you have a gun?”
“A rifle. Yes, I do, ma’am.” Ma’am —that was good. Distancing.
“You hunt?” Her voice spiked with disapproval.
“I was raised hunting,” he said. “My family needed that meat on the table. But no, actually, I don’t.”
“Then why—?”
“Do I keep the Remington on hand?” He hesitated, not wanting to tell her it had been a gift from his dad, which at the time had meant something. In these parts, giving your son a fine rifle was a way to acknowledge he’d reached manhood. His father hadn’t been very good with words, but sometimes he’d done something that had made Gabe glow with pride. Not often, which is maybe why those rare moments stuck with him. “Anyone with livestock has to worry about coyotes or wolves,” he said instead. “If I heard someone breaking into my workshop, I’d reach for it, too.”
She looked shocked, giving him an idea how she’d cast her ballots. His mouth twitched. If he was right, she’d be in a minority in this corner of the state. The thought made him wonder anew what she’d been thinking, a woman raising her child alone, buying a house so isolated, in a county where she and her son might both have trouble fitting in with what neighbors they did have.
He glanced from her outraged face to Mark’s. The kid was kind of dorky-looking to go with his personality. Lips a little too big and loose, expression too open. Gabe’s amusement faded. Sure as hell, Ciara Malloy had gone for isolated on purpose. He just hoped she hadn’t made one hell of a mistake.
He dipped his head. “I need to be getting back.” He met Mark’s gaze. “You want a dog, teaching him
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