“This is…Why are there checklists?” she asked incredulously. She shook the pages at him. “Do you actually expect me to fill these out and turn them back in to you?”

  “I expect you to read them over and learn how things work around here,” Trevor replied.

  “But—”

  “Let me ask you this.” Trevor tried not to smirk. He realized he was enjoying sparring with Sabrina. “When you get in your car, do you pull out into traffic? Or do you do up your seat belt first, check out your rearview and your side mirror? Do you bang on your hood before you get in, in case you’ve got critters napping on your engine block?”

  “Well, yeah, but—”

  “It’s about safety, Miss Hearthstone. I run a tight ship. A ranch this size can’t operate without a strict schedule and the checklists that go with it. Everyone pulls their weight on this ranch, and Wildhorse’s glamping coordinator is no exception.”

  Sabrina opened her mouth, then closed it again. Trevor smelled victory and squared up, triumphant.

  “So, if we’re agreed—”

  “Wait, no, hold on.” Sabrina was still leafing through her schedule. “There’s all kinds of chores on here, cleaning, errands. I won’t have time to do my job if I’m doing all this.” Her smile had become a frown. “I thought maybe we’d be collaborators, more than employer and employee.”

  Trevor paused to absorb that. Sabrina seemed smaller somehow, drained of energy. Like she’d done her chores already, and they’d sapped her strength. Trevor’s heart sank. He had intended to control the fire he saw in her, not snuff it entirely.

  “I hear you,” he said slowly. “But you’ve got to understand, you’re asking a lot.” Trevor hadn’t had a collaborator since—well, since Dad died. Trent had a vested interest in Wildhorse, but he led his own life in town. The work of running the ranch fell on Trevor’s shoulders, and he was more than happy to bear the brunt of it.

  But if he’d understood her right, Sabrina was offering to shoulder some of that burden. She wanted to work with him, right by his side, and she wanted to do it for the good of the ranch. For the good of his business, and Lord knew he could use it.

  “You’re a city girl,” he said, adding “No, don’t argue,” when she opened her mouth to protest. “You are. It’s written all over you; ranching isn’t in your blood. Not like in mine, at least, but…”

  Sabrina crossed her arms over her chest. “But?”

  “But what you’re saying makes sense, and I can see that you’re smart. You’ve got business savvy, and I need some of that. We can collaborate, but I’m still in charge. Whatever you want to do, you’ll run it by me, and if I say no—”

  “I might put up a fight, but you’ll have the last word.” Sabrina’s eyes blazed, and Trevor found his lips twitching.

  “All right. Collaborators.” He stuck out his hand, and they shook on their deal. “Do me a favor and read those papers anyway. You’ll need to know all our rules, and when I’ll be in the stables. We can meet again once you’ve familiarized yourself with the schedule, and we’ll work out times for camper activities.”

  “Fine.” Sabrina grinned. She rolled his checklists up and used the resulting tube to point toward the woodpile. “But I’m going to need extra time with your wood. I mean…!” She flushed bright red, and Trevor looked on in amusement. He might not have noticed her Freudian slip if it weren’t for the immediate look of mortification that passed across her face.

  “What I meant to say was, I don’t think I’ll be able to adhere to that part of the schedule,” she stated. “You can’t rush art, Mr. Wild.”

  “Art,” he echoed, in a deadpan voice.

  “I’ll take personal responsibility for getting rid of any scrap left over when I’m done,” she insisted. “You can depend on me to keep my word. And besides…” Sabrina’s smile brightened like a sunbeam as she gave him the thumbs-up. “You’re going to like what I have in store.”

  Trevor exhaled through his nose, half frustrated, half amused. “I think I already do,” he muttered, though he wasn’t sure he did. He grabbed his coffee off the porch rail and drained his mug. “All right, Miss Hearthstone,” he said. “We’ll catch up with one another tomorrow. Come find me in the stables.”

  “Should I call beforehand to make an appointment?” Sabrina asked as he stepped down off the porch.

  Trevor said nothing in response, just tipped his hat in farewell, deepening the shadows across his face and hiding the way his mouth twitched slightly upward despite his best efforts. He hated to admit it, but Sabrina was fun.

  2

  TREVOR

  “Well, I happen to think Sabrina’s a great addition,” Trent said. “Spunky. Beautiful.”

  And smart, thought Trevor. Fiery and fierce. All he’d want in a woman, if he were looking—but he didn’t need a woman. He needed a worker. Someone who’d do her job without all the sass.

  The sun had risen to take its noontime place in the sky, and the two brothers had retreated inside the easternmost stable block to escape its rays for a bit. Trevor had shed his coat hours ago and now had his sleeves rolled up. He plunged elbow-deep into one of the metal water troughs he had brought in from the pasture, scrubbing off the algae and crud that had accumulated over the last three months.

  “Two chores checked off the list isn’t bad,” Trevor said cryptically, his shoulders bent over the tub.

  “Two…what?” Trent was quiet a moment, then Trevor heard him chuckle. “Leave it to you to make a checklist for a woman. No wonder you’re still single.” His brother leaned against a stable door, chewing a piece of straw and doing little else. Apparently, now that Trevor had returned to take the lead on things, Trent thought he had earned himself a break from chores.

  “You’re one to talk.” Trevor used the back of his wrist to wipe the sweat from his forehead as he rose. “How long’s it been that you’ve been on your own?”

  “You’re right.” Trent grimaced. “Must be my damn looks. Our damn looks. I forget sometimes we share the same genes.”

  Trent may have been Trevor’s identical twin, but their disparate personalities had physically manifested long ago. It sometimes felt to Trevor like he was looking in a funhouse mirror, where every feature was the same, yet somehow inverted. Trevor found the time to shave less often than his brother did, and his skin was dark brown in comparison to Trent’s tan. The heels of their work boots still made them equally tall, and the physical activity required by their professions made them equally broad, but Trent’s face was much friendlier, more pleasant to look at. His brother smiled readily, his laugh came easy, and he put people at ease with no effort at all. Where Trevor had frown lines, Trent had smile lines.

  Trent’s identical dark eyes sparked with humor all of a sudden. Trevor had the distinct feeling he was about to find himself the butt of a joke, but he was surprised by Trent’s next comment. “Might share the same taste in women, too,” Trent hinted.

  An image of Sabrina came unbidden into Trevor’s head.

  “City girls,” he said. He meant it to sound dismissive, but it came out almost rueful.

  “She is certainly one of those,” said Trent. Trevor just grunted. Sabrina was just about everything he had been expecting her to be, down to her impractical designer jeans, and yet…their first encounter had left him feeling strangely winded. Maybe from all the breath he had expended arguing with her. She had an animation and energy to her that the profile picture on her company’s website simply hadn’t been able to convey.

  “But you like her,” pressed Trent.

  Trevor went to the sink and cranked the water full blast, hoping Trent would’ve moved on by the time he’d washed his hands. Sabrina Hearthstone had surprised Trevor, no doubt. She had a quick wit about her, and the strength to hold her own. He wouldn’t deny that he found her attractive. But could she pull Wildhorse Ranch out of debt? Could she “upcycle” his business back on its feet? That was what he needed, not some shiny distraction.

  He finished washing his hands and toweled them dry.

  “You like her,” Trent said again. Trevor cleared his throat.

  “I don’t dislike her,” he said finally, “but she’s apt to get in my way. This whole ‘glamping’ thing is just a side business. A temporary stopgap till we’re back on our feet. The ranch needs to keep going like it always has. Once we’re out of the red, I’ll end her contract and send Miss Hearthstone and her glue gun on their way to bedazzle someplace else.”

  “Does Sabrina know that?” Trent asked.

  “Miss Hearthstone and I have reached an understanding,” Trevor said curtly. “She stays out of my side of the business, and I stay out of hers. We come together to discuss any overlap. At the end of the day, nothing happens on this ranch without my stamp of approval. Same as it’s been since Grandpa passed.”

  “That was a long time ago.” Trent arched a brow. “It might not be a bad idea to consider changing with the times.”

  Trevor nodded along but didn’t respond. They’d had this conversation more than once since the untimely death of their grandfather, and Trevor had never warmed to it. Change as significant as his brother was suggesting wouldn’t mesh with his plans, even if he’d wanted it to begin with.

  “Grandpa James was a good man,” Trent continued. “He didn’t mean to leave you in a hole….”

  “I’m sure he didn’t mean to leave at all,” Trevor grunted.

  “But he wouldn’t want you to stay in that hole on his account either, Trev. Hell, you’re a horseman. You know better than I do that the most recent stock he purchased isn’t paying for itself. And without them, you don’t have the money to make that balloon payment he still owes,” Trent concluded. “Wildhorse doesn’t have to just breed quarter horses. Why don’t you admit this glamping program is a good idea? It might just be the thing that saves your sorry ass and keeps the ranch operating for another season.”

  “Doing it for a season is fine,” said Trevor. “But in the long term, I’ll find a way out of this on my own.” He turned away to work a kink out of the hose. “Always have before. So, you don’t need to worry yourself with trying to retroactively contribute to the family legacy. Grandpa didn’t expect you to care about this sort of thing before, and I certainly don’t expect you to start caring now.”

  For a long moment, Trent said nothing at all. When he spoke at last, his voice had gone hard. “And when this sort of thing happens again?” Trevor could see that he had hit a sore spot, and it wasn’t exactly unintentional. A part of him felt guilty for shutting his brother out the way he did, but another part knew he couldn’t count on Trent. Not when it came to the ranch. He’d been down that road before, letting himself rely on Trent’s help, only to watch him give up and walk away, drawn by his “real” job, the life he’d chosen.

  “I’ll handle it,” said Trevor, but Trent shook his head.

  “You could have the most successful breeding program in the world, and you’re still going to run into this sort of trouble again down the line! You need a backup plan, not just for this time, but for the long haul. You need a gal like Sabrina bringing fresh ideas to the table. Lord knows you don’t listen to me, but maybe you’ll be more likely to listen to reason when it comes from the mouth of a beauty in skintight blue jeans.”

  “Sabrina doesn’t belong here!” Trevor snapped. The stable block descended into silence. When Trent didn’t respond immediately, Trevor glanced up from his work to see if his rise in temper had caused his brother to retreat. Trent was leaning on the other side of the aisle, same as before, only now he appeared to be keenly studying Trevor.

  “Then send her back and choose another coordinator,” his brother said at last. “Hell, choose another program. One that suits your narrow idea of what this place is. One you’re comfortable dealing with.”

  “I’ll deal with Miss Hearthstone just fine,” Trevor responded as he kneeled to scrub once more. “So long as she follows my rules.”

  3

  SABRINA

  “And I was thinking we could pair each guest up with one of the ranch hands for a day,” Sabrina continued excitedly, her pink ostrich feather pen wagging behind her clipboard as she jotted down her ideas. “Maybe Tuesday? Because according to your schedule, Tuesdays are slow. There’s plenty of time in the morning and—”

  “No such thing as a slow day,” Trevor interrupted.

  The wagging pen paused, and Sabrina closed her throat on a sigh of exasperation. They had been going at it all morning like this, her proposing ideas, Trevor shooting them down. She was currently perched on a stall partition, trying—and failing—to get his undivided attention. Wildhorse’s taciturn owner was shoveling out the stall across the aisle, the bunched muscles of his back offering her few clear signals about how well she was communicating her ideas.

  She privately suspected he had chosen the location of their first meeting for a reason only partially related to the chores he’d insisted couldn’t wait. Well, if Trevor thought all the dust in the air and the pervasive smell of horse manure would be enough to drive her away, he had thought dead wrong.

  Sabrina’s grandparents, Forest and Harriet Hearthstone, had been the proud owners of their own ranch until changing fortunes had forced them to sell it, and Sabrina was no stranger to the filthier aspects of horse upkeep. In fact, there was a particular, even overpowering, nostalgia factor to the smell of a stable—to the life that went with it, the hard work, the quiet. Why else would she take so readily to a job that pushed her out of the city? Why else would she be so damn good at it? And she was.

  Why couldn’t Trevor see she was just what he needed? Sabrina glared at the rancher’s back, taking in the triangular sweat stain that darkened his shirt between his powerful shoulders. She wasn’t afraid to sweat, and she certainly wasn’t afraid of hard work—it just so happened that hard work came in many forms.

  She caught sight of the frilly pen out of the corner of her eye. Was it the pen that was making him doubt her? It had been a gag gift from a friend. She could get another one, but later. Not now. Now, she had a job to do, and she needed Trevor’s input.

  “Right. No such thing as a slow day,” she echoed. “But your workers get breaks, right? So why not give them a little additional time out of their day to show our guests around?”

  “Because I don’t have any hands to spare for that sort of thing, end of story.” Trevor heaved a shovelful of manure over his shoulder without looking, forcing Sabrina to dodge to the side to avoid some of the dirt that overshot the wheelbarrow. “I already let most of the seasonal workers go to cut costs. The ones who stayed understand that they already have their work cut out for them this year.”

  “That’s fine. I can work with that.” Sabrina waggled her pen. “What if I said you wouldn’t need to ‘spare’ anyone? If your hands could get their work done and help me too?”

  Trevor made a snorting sound. “Unless you can clone them, I can’t see how that’d work.”

  Sabrina laughed. “I can’t clone them,” she said. “But don’t forget, our guests are paying for the whole ranch experience. So why not let them follow the ranch hands around and help with their chores? That’s not only free labor, but they’re paying for the privilege.” She leaned forward, eager. “Let them experience all Wildhorse has to offer. Let them see what it really takes to keep a ranch like this running. Come on, how about it? What do you say?”

  Trevor paused in his shoveling and finally turned to look at her. Sabrina couldn’t decide whether he was struck dumb by her brilliance or trying to decide if she’d lost her mind. But one thing she knew for sure was that he made her pulse race, with his arms streaked with sweat and dirt, his face irresistibly rugged. A dusty halo of sunlight gleamed in his hair.

  He’s the real deal, Sabrina thought. As much as she hated to admit it, she was a little in awe of Trevor Wild. She had been operating under the misconception that real cowboys died out long ago, but here was Trevor, a flesh-and-blood update to that vintage romantic trope.

  Sabrina’s tongue darted out, her mouth gone dry. She couldn’t help but think Trevor might unwittingly prove to be one of Wildhorse’s main attractions. Market research told her that their clientele would consist almost exclusively of city women and upper middle-class families. The kids would love the horses and the space to run around, but as for the women…Sabrina would put money on them flocking to Trevor.

  So, whether he liked it or not, she was going to have to promote Trevor Wild a bit, even if she had to do it behind his back. Some candid shots of the rancher posted to Wildhorse’s social media accounts ought to get a few hearts racing. The fact that she was using her own heartbeat as a gauge just went to show how personally she took her work.

  Trevor removed his hat and perched it on the post beside him, revealing a head of close-cropped dark hair. He then reached down, grabbing a fistful of T-shirt, and Sabrina…Well, she nearly fell over backwards into the stall. The thought of him actually removing his shirt hit her like a sucker punch in the stomach, and she quickly raised her clipboard to block her view.

  Immediately, she felt silly. Why was she acting this way? She was a grown woman! It wasn’t like she had never seen a partially naked man before, even if it had been a while.

  Sabrina lowered her clipboard, breathing deep to calm her pulse. As it turned out, Trevor was only using the hem of his T-shirt to mop some of the sweat and grime off his face. Her eyes tracked lower, taking in his smooth chest and the way his abdominal muscles clenched beneath a sheen of perspiration. For someone who insisted on wearing a belt, his pants sure rode low around his hips….

  Trevor’s strength, when on unconscious display this way, seemed completely natural and effortless. She doubted he had a gym membership, or that such a conceit had ever crossed his mind; endless days full of hard work had toned his body to perfection. He probably didn’t even know how good he looked.