Should've Been a Cowboy by Vicki Lewis Thompson

for exactly this reason. It opened into the utility room adjoining the kitchen. There was even a narrow, seldom-used staircase that led from the kitchen to the second floor, an addition made when three growing, often dirty, boys had needed to get upstairs without making too big a mess.
    But at the moment Tyler looked as if she’d entered a wet T-shirt contest. Surely any red-blooded male would forgive him for neglecting to tell her about the back entrance into the ranch’s utility room and the staircase to the second floor.
    “There’s a cleanup sink in the barn,” he said. “We can go back and get the worst of it off there.”
    “All right.”
    He felt a little bit guilty for leading her back into the barn, but not much. When he’d kissed her a few minutes ago, she’d kissed him back. Vigorously. Vows of chastity were all well and good for some people, but he and Tyler weren’t those people. They needed each other too desperately.
    Maybe they’d clean off the mud and go back to the house without anything happening. It was possible. But he couldn’t imagine four more days of nothing happening. To his way of thinking, they might as well get started now.
    This time he didn’t turn on the overhead lamps. Low lights mounted near the floor were on a dusk-to-dawn sensor, and they glowed softly, illuminating the floor so they wouldn’t trip over anything and creating an ambience that suited the mood Alex hoped for. Rain hitting the tin roof added another romantic touch.
    “Thanks for not turning on the lights,” Tyler said. “I’m a mess.”
    “Not in my book.” Even in low light, he had a good view of her yellow shirt plastered to her body. Her nipples made dents in the soaked material, and it was all he could do not to reach for her, mud and all. But the next move needed to be hers, not his.
    She slicked her wet hair back and squeezed some water out of the ends as she glanced upward. “I like the sound of rain on a tin roof.”
    “Me, too.”
    She met his gaze briefly and looked away. “Where’s the sink?”
    “At the far end, beyond the last stall.”
    Her running shoes squished as she walked down the aisle between the rows of stalls. “Is there a goat in here, too? I seem to remember something about a goat.”
    “Yep, there’s a goat.” He followed her toward the back of the barn. “His name is Hornswaggled, and he shares a stall with a mare named Doozie. They’re inseparable.”
    “Which stall?”
    “Third from the end on the left.”
    Tyler detoured over to that stall and looked in. “Sure enough. Hi, there, Doozie and Hornswaggled. How do you like this weather we’re having?”
    Doozie stuck her nose over the stall door and the goat’s front hooves clacked against the wooden door as he propped himself against it to beg for his share of attention.
    “They’re so friendly.” Tyler stroked Doozie’s nose with one hand and scratched the top of the goat’s head with the other.
    Alex came to stand beside her. “The Last Chance prides itself on being a friendly place.”
    “I’ve noticed.” She concentrated on the two animals instead of looking at him, but the color rose in her cheeks. “This horse isn’t a paint like all the others.”
    “Nope. She was injured and needed a safe haven. Now she’s fine, but nobody’s willing to sell her, even if they can’t breed her.”
    Dislodging Tyler’s hand, Doozie moved closer to Alex, gazing at him expectantly.
    He reached out and rubbed her silky neck. “Sorry, Dooz. I don’t have any treats.”
    Hornswaggled bleated softly.
    “Nothing for you, either, Horny.”
    Tyler groaned. “That nickname is so bad, Alex.”
    “Don’t blame me. That’s what all the hands call him. He came to the ranch with that name, and nobody’s going to take the time to say all of it. Cowboys appreciate brevity.”
    Tyler glanced sideways at Alex as she continued to scratch the goat’s head. “So how much of a cowboy are you these days? Do you ride the