Page 50 of A Rancher's Vow

Horseback riding lessons. Cards with Amy and Lionel. Sam set up a barbeque dinner on Thursday night with steaks so big Charity thought she needed to share with Dustin.

He laughed as she attempted to put half on his plate. “That’s yours. I want my own, so you’re stuck with it.”

“This is enough protein to feed a body builder for a week,” Charity complained.

“Or one meal for a hard-working cowboy.”

He winked, though, and silently accepted the piece she slipped onto his plate later with a whispered plea. “I don’t want to waste it, and I can’t eat another bite.”

“Good thing I’m germ-proof these days.”

They shared a conspiratorial smile.

She was sleeping so well. Partly the extra outdoor time, but she gave most of the credit to the enthusiastic sex she and Dustin were having every chance they got.

Since the first day when she’d all but jumped him in the kitchen, they’d been enjoying each other’s company thoroughly. The second round had happened that first night—immediately after a rinse off in the shower where Dustin had turned her on all over again and proven he knew how to sex her up in a shower as well as on the table.

They hadn’t stopped. Charity was damn glad that between them they’d packed enough condoms for an overzealous spring-breaker.

The only dark cloud on the horizon turned out to be Frank Stone’s visage. The man couldn’t be in Dustin’s vicinity for more than two minutes without being rude. Which naturally triggered Dustin’s smart-assery, although the smack-backs had become lighter as he was clearly more interested in getting out of Frank’s way so he could spend time with her.

Being an unexpected positive influence on Dustin? Too funny.

Friday morning Charity hit a snag in her search. The open paper files had failed to give up the needed information. She was so close to being done, she really hated to stop. Tucker’s email response to her question for ideas suggested she might find more information on the Crooked Creek computer.

Lovely. Time to track down Frank Stone and ask for his password. Wasn’t that going to be fun?

She started her search at the cookhouse. Sam shook his head. “I know he didn’t ride out with the crew. Might be in the barn. I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Is it okay to go in the barn by myself?”

The cook chuckled. “You didn’t grow up on a ranch, did you?”

“Nope.”

He patted her shoulder reassuringly. “If anyone questions if you should be there, just tell them you’re looking for kittens. There’s always kittens in the barn, and it’s as good an excuse as any.”

Charity laughed. “Now I feel the need to go hunt down some kittens for real. Any suggestions where I’d find them?”

He pointed up. “Loft.”

“Got it.”

The idea of kittens was intriguing, but Charity stuck to her objective. Find Frank Stone, get the info she needed, and finish her task.

At least until she spotted Beach. Or perhaps more accurately, Beach spotted her, and distraction officially arrived.

The horse poked his head over the low front gate of his stall to nicker at her, lifting his head a few times in a small jerking motion as if telling her to come say hello. After three nights in a row of riding him, each one with more independence on Charity’s part, she was comfortable enough to go up and do exactly that.

She held a hand to his muzzle and gave him a scratch. “Hey, beautiful. How are you?”

Beach nuzzled her palm, then her pocket, searching for a piece of apple or carrot.

Charity stepped to the side to pat his neck more easily. “No treats right now. Maybe tonight. I think we’ll—”

“What are you doing?” Frank Stone spoke quietly, but anger snapped in his tone. He’d popped up out of nowhere and was suddenly so close that Charity felt overwhelmed.

Beach stepped uneasily in his pen, sensing trouble. Charity retreated instantly to a safe distance from both horse and man. She turned to face Frank. “I was looking for you.”