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“Hi, sis. How was the flight?” he asked casually as he popped the tab on a cold can of beer, took a long swallow, and dropped onto the ripped couch.

“Tiresome, but on schedule,” she replied, watching him with new eyes. He settled into the couch, propped the heels of his boots against the corner of the desk, and let his Stetson fall forward. Balancing the can precariously on his stomach between his outstretched fingers, he looked as if he might fall asleep.

His voice was slightly muffled. “And good ole Brig, how was he?”

Becca hesitated only slightly, carefully gauging her brother’s reaction. His eyes were shadowed by the hat, but there appeared to be more than idle interest in his gaze. Becca supposed that was to be expected, considering the situation. “Brig was fine.”

Her noncommittal response didn’t satisfy Dean. “And I suppose you told him about the horse,” he said sarcastically.

“You know I did.”

His boots hit the floor with a thud, and beer slopped onto his shirt before he could grab the can. He stood to his full height and looked down upon her with his ruddy face contorted in rage. “Goddamn it, Becca! I knew it! You didn’t listen to one word of advice I gave you, did you? I don’t know what the hell’s gotten into you lately!”

“Precisely what I was thinking about you,” she snapped back.

“I’m only trying to look out for your best interests,” he proclaimed.

“Are you?”

“You know I am.” He took another swallow from the beer but it didn’t begin to cool the anger in his steely-blue eyes. He shook his head as if to dislodge a bothersome thought. “I knew it,” he said, swearing under his breath. “Damn it! I knew that if I let you go to Denver you’d come back here with your mind all turned around.”

“If you let me?” she echoed. “I can make my own decisions, Dean, and there’s nothing wrong with my mind!”

“Except that you can’t think straight whenever you’re near Brig Chambers!”

“You and I agreed that Brig had to know about the horse—there was no other way around it.”

“We didn’t agree to anything. You went running off to Denver with any flimsy excuse to look up Brig again.”

“And you decided to tie one on, after taking a few checks from the checkbook.”

For a moment Dean was stopped short. Then, with a growl, he dug into his pockets and threw two crumpled checks onto the desk. “I was a little short—”

“Where’s the other check?”

“I cashed it. Okay? So sue me!”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is, sis? And what happened while you were in Denver? Unless I miss my guess, you started to fall in love all over again with that miserable son-of-a-bitch, and then he threw you out on your ear.”

Becca rose from the desk. She had to fight to keep her voice from shaking as badly as her hands. “That’s not what happened.” Her green eyes deepened with her anger.

“Close enough.” Dean took a final swallow of beer and drained the can before he crushed it in his fist. “So what did he tell you to do—sell the horse?” Dean’s knowing blue gaze bored into Becca’s angry emerald eyes.

“We considered several alternatives.”

“I’ll just bet you did,” Dean agreed with a disbelieving smirk.

Becca swallowed back the hot retort that hovered on the end of her tongue. Trading verbal knife wounds with her brother would get her nowhere. “I’ve decided to keep the horse. I told Brig that we’d pay him back within the year.”

“Are you out of your mind? Fifty grand plus interest?” Dean was astounded. “That’ll be impossible! Even if Gypsy Wind wins right off the bat, it takes a bundle just to cover her costs. You’re going to have to stable her at a track, hire an entire crew, enter her in the events—it will cost us a small fortune.”

“She’s worth it, Dean.”

“How in the world do you think you can pay off Chambers?”

“She’ll win.”