“Boo,” said Dale, and gave her a thumbs down.

  Sabrina ran down her list, disappointment rising. If they weren’t into decorating horseshoes, she doubted they’d be up for horse-washing, or anything they’d done a million times before.

  “Beginner square dancing?”

  “Boo! We’re all experts.”

  Sabrina let her clipboard drop to her side. “Fine—and this is a long shot—how about weaving placemats?”

  The crowd went silent, but that was better than overt rejection. “And then we can have lunch?” she added. The crowd erupted in cheers, though Dale’s were the loudest. Sabrina grinned, rueful, and caught Dale’s eye. “Great. The supplies are up on the hill. Last one up is a rotten egg!”

  After the “guests” had gone, Sabrina escaped to the easternmost stable block, where she and Trevor had bathed Peggy what felt like a lifetime ago. Making placemats had gone fine, but boiled down, it was just crafting. No one paid top dollar to craft on a ranch. She’d need something big to draw in the crowds. Something irresistible, but what?

  Trevor found her long-faced, adrift in her musings, slouched on the stool she had pulled up outside Peggy’s stall. She’d been feeding the gentle horse sugar lump after sugar lump, and crunching an equal number between her own teeth. Even Peggy’s warm, snorting breaths and the tickle of lips as large as the palm of her hand hadn’t been able to distract her from her failure, and now here was Trevor—to rub it in? She hoped not.

  “You girls eating your feelings?” He stopped and leaned against the stall door. “Pete told me you were in here. Seemed to think maybe I’d done something to upset you.”

  “It’s not you,” said Sabrina, and hung her head. Peggy broke off from her snacking to acknowledge Trevor’s presence, raising her snout to his shoulder and snorting in his scent. Sabrina dipped into the box in her lap and thrust a sugar-laden hand back through the door sullenly.

  “Today was an unmitigated disaster,” she said, stating the obvious before he could beat her to it.

  “No. No, it wasn’t.”

  “They were all laughing when they left,” she said bitterly. “All of them. And shaking their heads. In case you didn’t realize, that means our focus group was a complete bust.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Trevor replied. “It means you did great.”

  Sabrina huffed. “How do you figure?”

  “The point of a focus group’s to see what works and what doesn’t. And we just saw both.”

  “I saw what didn’t work. What part of that did?”

  Trevor sat down beside her. “They were laughing when they left because they had a good time. And I guess you didn’t notice, but they all took the placemats.”

  Sabrina choked on a sugar cube. “I’m sorry. They what?”

  “Those weren’t free to take? I thought you said something about souvenirs.”

  “No, they were. I just didn’t think they enjoyed making them. They were all laughing so hard when I was giving them instructions.”

  “They were laughing because they had fun. Because of you,” said Trevor. “You were great. You pulled them right in. I stacked the deck against you, and you came through like a champ. Had them all eating out of the palm of your hand.”

  Sabrina frowned. “You stacked the deck against me?”

  Trevor shrugged. “There are folks in town who don’t run a ranch, who don’t deal much with horses or farm chores. I set you up with a tough crowd to see how you’d cope with folks who’ve been doing ranch work since before they could walk.”

  Sabrina smacked his shoulder. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because you’ll get tough crowds with city folks too. Folks who send back their dinners if their hors aren’t d’oeuvred.” Trevor’s smile faded. “I know they were hard on you. I know it was mean. But Wildhorse is in my blood, like their ranches are in theirs. If I lose it, I…” He looked down at his hands. “It’s my whole life. Running a ranch for me, it isn’t just chores or schedules. It’s family, tradition, the story of my life. I’m staking all that on you, and I need to know—”

  “I get it.” Sabrina reached for his knee, but stopped short of a pat. She set her hand down on her own thigh, instead. “You really think they liked me?”

  “I know they did,” said Trevor. “Hell, I’m impressed you managed to stand your ground—and you can bet you impressed them. Even Pete was impressed, and he’s as seasoned as they come.” Sabrina made a disbelieving noise in her throat, but Trevor crossed his arms and stood by his claim. “You might be a puzzle to them, but they know tenacity when they see it. You earned their respect today, Sabrina. And you earned mine.”

  Sabrina glowed at his praise, but deep inside, she felt anxious. She swallowed, dry-mouthed, and shook her head. “It’s just, I’ve been thinking…I know what city folk like, what they want from a camping trip. But ours needs to be special. One-of-a-kind. Glamping meets dude ranch, but what if I’m…”

  “What?”

  “If I don’t know enough about ranching to hit the right note? Folks’ll be coming, expecting a fresh, out-of-this-world experience, and I….”

  Sabrina trailed off. She wasn’t so lost in her own pity party that she didn’t understand that I might not be the right person for this job was trespassing into territory she didn’t want either of them to consider. Even if she felt like she had let Trevor and Wildhorse Ranch down, she couldn’t give up on them yet. But was it in their best interests for her to stay?

  She reached for another sugar cube, but Trevor caught her hand. “Enough,” he said quietly. “You’ll make her sick if you keep feeding her like that.”

  Sabrina felt her face turn scarlet in shame. She allowed Trevor to pull her to her feet, and she handed him the box of sugar cubes. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Just one more failure to add to her list, but at least giving Peggy a belly ache had been avoided, however narrowly.

  “You’ve already spoiled her rotten,” he said, as he set the box aside. “You should save that sort of attentiveness for the guests.”

  Throughout his instructions, Trevor kept hold of her hand. Sabrina leaned into him gratefully and rested her head on his shoulder. He stiffened against her, and Sabrina’s flush deepened. Had he intended the gesture as one of comfort, or had he just forgotten where his hand was?

  Sabrina made to pull back—was there absolutely nothing she could get right today?—but Trevor surprised her by keeping her close.

  “Come on.” He wrapped his free arm around her waist and led her over to a hay bale where they could both sit—out of reach of the horses, Sabrina noted. As if he didn’t trust her to discontinue her sugar cube campaign. When they sat down, he kept a respectful distance, but his muscled thigh still bumped against hers.

  Trevor cleared his throat awkwardly after a moment. “So, things didn’t go as planned,” he said. “They often don’t, on a ranch. You stick with it, make a new plan. You try again.”

  “By plan, do you mean list?”

  “If need be,” he agreed. Sabrina rolled her eyes a little, but she couldn’t help the grateful smile tugging at her lips. Trevor shifted beside her, the material of his jeans catching against hers.

  “Look,” he went on, “if I thought you did bad today, you’d be out on your ear. The success of my operation is depending on you. The horses are counting on you.” He gestured down the aisle at the long, curious faces poking out of their stalls. “The income from your program will buy us all time. Time for me to figure out how to get my breeding program back off the ground. Without that time, I’ll have to start selling off horses, and quarter horse breeding stock that doesn’t do what it was bred to do could wind up anywhere, despite my best efforts to police their rehoming. I don’t want to consider it, but it’s the reality all the same.”

  Sabrina’s throat felt tight. “No pressure, huh?”

  “You’ll make it work. No, we’ll make it work,” Trevor amended. “I’m in this with you. It’s not all on your shoulders. Collaborators, remember?” He grinned crookedly. “Doubt you could take all that pressure all on your own, what with those earrings weighing you down.”

  Sabrina barked out a short, startled laugh. “ I don’t want you to feel alone in this, either.” She reached for Trevor, laying a hand on his knee. “This is your life, Trevor. This is your home. I’m lucky you invited me into even a small part of it, and I promise I won’t let you down.”

  “I know you won’t.” To her surprise, he brought his hand to encase hers. His filth-encrusted work gloves hung from his belt, and the hand that held hers was large and rough and surprisingly warm. She remembered how he had grabbed hold of her hand earlier, and how she had thought it was a fluke—a thoughtless maneuver to steer her as he would one of his horses. Now, Sabrina thought it might be something different.

  So, she took the same risk as earlier and laid her head on his shoulder. Her hair formed a comfortable cushion as she gazed out the open barn door toward the sprawling pastures. As much as she had insisted aloud that Wildhorse was Trevor’s home, it already had a special place in her heart. She felt at ease here, like she once had at her grandparents’ ranch. Coming here was like a homecoming, almost.

  Don’t get too comfortable, she reminded herself. She felt easy with Trevor, for the moment at least, but how had they gone so quickly from adversaries to allies? Collaborators, he’d said, but their alliance felt fragile. Too much was riding on it for Sabrina to let herself relax. She doubted it would be long before the pressure had them butting heads again—but at least she could rest here on his shoulder between rounds.

  Trevor wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into his side. They sat silently together, each lost in their own thoughts. But it was hard for Sabrina to keep her wheels turning when she could feel Trevor’s breath in her hair. The hand on her waist never loosened, never relaxed; it cemented her to his side and held her securely in place. Could she break away if she wanted to? Did she want to? Ever?

  The quiet intensity of his gaze was too much. Sabrina dropped her eyes to study the front of his plaid shirt, and was dismayed to find the collar open.

  In the next moment, his fingers hooked under her chin and lifted her face up. That powerful intensity still burned in his eyes, but there was faint surprise in them, as if he had seen something unexpected in her expression and wanted to reassure himself that he hadn’t imagined it. How could she hope to hide anything from him when he was this close?

  Her eyes flitted to his lips, and she felt a tug of intense longing in her stomach. As if she had signaled him, Trevor leaned in—

  And a wet, snuffling horse nose thrust itself between them.

  “Peggy,” Trevor groaned. “How the hell did you get out?”

  “She’s smart,” Sabrina offered with a breathless little laugh. She pushed back against the interfering horse, and Peggy ducked her head to probe Sabrina’s pockets with her lips. Not the lips I was planning to have on me a moment ago, Sabrina thought with no small amount of disappointment. She took care to keep her eyes off Trevor as she grappled with the overly friendly horse. Already she could feel herself second-guessing the moment.

  There was no way Trevor Wild had been about to kiss her—right? There was no way she had been about to let him—had she?

  “She knows now you’re the goose that lays the golden egg,” Trevor said in a tone of mild disapproval. He heaved himself up from the hay bale and looped his arm around Peggy’s neck, leading the obedient horse back to her stall without a halter.

  The horses are counting on you. That meant Peggy, too. Sabrina squared her shoulders, eyes narrowed in determination. “Let’s hope she’s not wrong about that.”

  6

  SABRINA

  “You missed lunch,” said Trevor.

  Sabrina blinked. “Huh? Where’d you come from?”

  “I’ve been here a while. You didn’t hear me clomping up the steps?”

  Sabrina stretched in her seat, wincing as her spine cracked all the way down. She’d plopped down at her desk right after breakfast with her laptop and her notebook and a head full of ideas, and she hadn’t moved since, not even to top up her cold mug of coffee. She rubbed her sore eyes.

  “What time is it?”

  “Dinnertime,” said Trevor. “I thought I’d head into town. There’s a diner by the feed shop, nothing fancy, but…”

  “Sounds good,” said Sabrina, massaging her knee. She was stiff head to toe, like a creaky old board. “I guess I should hunt up some dinner, myself.”

  Trevor made a grunting sound. “I was inviting you to eat with me. Wasn’t that clear?”

  Sabrina laughed, embarrassed. “Sorry. I’ve been buried in work all day, and my head’s all…pff.” She flapped her hands around to indicate a mess.

  “You work too hard,” said Trevor, and let out a snort. “Never thought I’d hear myself saying that to you.”

  “Oh? And why not?”

  “Judged the book by its cover, I guess. You know, city folk…” A smile touched his lips. “So, are you coming, or am I going solo?”

  Sabrina’s stomach rumbled at the prospect of food. The sun was already low in the sky, which meant she hadn’t eaten in nearly twelve hours. She’d got all caught up planning a trail riding adventure, horses and cowboys and a sumptuous picnic lunch, all leading up to massages at the end, assuming she could strike a deal with a spa. Fresh air and pampering, what could be better?

  Food could be better. She was about to keel over.

  “I’m coming,” she said, and toed on her shoes. She went for her purse, but Trevor waved her away.

  “I asked you. It’s my treat.”

  Sabrina smiled—free food. Better still. “I’m starving,” she said. “Do they have burgers?”

  “Burgers and home fries, hoagies, short ribs. But where they really shine is their desserts. Their apple pie’ll put your grandma’s to shame.”

  “Better not say that in front of my grandma.”

  They piled into Trevor’s truck and headed into town. Lockhart Bend was tiny, just a wide spot in the road, but the shops along Main Street made Sabrina’s heart ache, not in a bad way, but with a nostalgic pang. There’d been a town just like it near her grandparents’ ranch, with the same cracked sidewalks, the same little shops. There was a salon, with its cheery pink sign, and a tiny pawnshop with a guitar in the window. Two women stood chatting outside the bank, and one of them waved as Trevor cruised by. Sabrina recognized the woman from yesterday’s focus group, and when Trevor waved back at her, Sabrina waved too.

  “Here’s the diner,” said Trevor, and pulled up to the curb. He got out of the truck, and Sabrina went to do the same. Then she saw Trevor circling around to open her door. She let him do it, then took the hand he offered to help her down.

  “Gentleman, huh?”

  “Up to a point.” Trevor gave her a wink. “If you get a burger, order extra pickles.”

  Sabrina’s brows went up. “Why?”

  “Because Jenny’s working today, and she skimps on the pickles. You’ll get a big juicy burger with one sad little pickle slice smack in the middle.”

  Sabrina’s laugh came out somewhat choked. Her nostalgia was back, more powerful than before. She glanced at Trevor and stifled a sigh. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been somewhere like this.”

  “What, a dining establishment with no Michelin stars?” He held the door for her, and Sabrina ducked inside.

  “Not that,” she said. “I mean a town like this, small enough you know the cooks’ schedule at your favorite place, and who’s stingy with the pickles or generous with the fries. A place where you can leave your truck and not lock it up.”

  “I know the best table, too. It’s this one. Sit.” He led her to a table in the corner, looking out on the street, boxed in on one side by a glass block partition. A blonde waitress followed with a couple of menus. She pointed at Trevor, with a knowing look.

  “Guess I know what you’re having, the Trevor special. How about your date?”

  “I’ll have a burger,” said Sabrina. “No onions, extra pickles. Oh, and a Coke, and a slice of apple pie.”

  “Coming right up,” said the waitress. “I’ll grab you a couple of waters while you wait.” She glided off, and Sabrina smiled.

  “See what I mean? You didn’t even need to order. Can’t remember the last time I—” Sabrina’s voice caught, and she swallowed hard. Trevor stretched his hand across the table till his fingers grazed hers.

  “Hey. You okay?”

  “Just nostalgic, I guess.” The waitress set down their waters, and Sabrina took a sip. “I’ve got a lot of good memories of places like this.”

  Trevor’s expression turned puzzled, then something seemed to click. “You said your grandparents had horses. Were they country folk?”

  “Ranchers,” she said, her voice slightly hoarse. “Out in Colorado. I’d spend my summers with them when I was a kid, helping out, hiking, riding the trails.”

  “And now? They still out there?”

  Sabrina shook her head. “No. They had to sell. They…” She trailed off.

  “What?”

  She didn’t want to tell him why they’d had to sell—costs spiking up, profits dipping down. They’d planned on living their lives out on the land they loved, but it hadn’t worked out that way. They’d applied for a loan to convert the land to a dude ranch, but the bank had denied them, and that had been that.

  “They retired,” she said instead. “Moved down here, actually. They’re buried in the cemetery down the road. I should visit them soon. That’s partly why I came here.”

  “Take whatever time you need,” said Trevor. “As long as you promise to actually take that time off and not spend it trying to come up with more ideas. It’s bad for your health, working all day without breaks.”

  “Your burger,” said their waitress, setting down her plate. “And your rib combo. I’ll bring your desserts when you’re done with your mains.”

  “Thanks, Hazel,” said Trevor. He took a bite of his potatoes. “Delicious as always. Tell Jenny thanks.”