The Gift Horse

Excerpt

"So, pretty boy, huh?"

Sam jumped and sent the brush in her hand clattering across the barn aisle. Turning to confront her fate, she met Carson's dissecting gaze.

"Well, it's the truth." Sort of. His nose did appear to have been broken once or twice, and his looks leaned slightly more toward the rugged side than the prissy side. Still, if the pretty boy title got under his skin, she'd file it away and use it when needed.

He leaned toward her in an attempt to intimidate. "No one has ever called me that."

"I see. And what would you like me to call you, sir?" She leaned toward him, demonstrating her own brand of intimidation. She'd grown up in a household of real men; rich pansies didn't intimidate her.

"With a little respect."

"You got it." She bit back a sharp reply. After all, she did want to ride his mare. A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

"Good. I want this horse sold. I assume you can handle that task?"

"Sold? She's your birthday present."

Carson shrugged. "I don't want a horse."

"You can't sell her. She's come so far. She trusts me. I'm just finally getting through to her." Sam's stomach settled in her boots. She closed her eyes briefly. She'd let herself get too attached to a horse that didn't belong to her. Again. If she wanted to be a professional, she needed to keep her distance from the horse and its owner. Not that she'd ever get attached to that tight ass, even though he was hot.

"If you can't do it, I'll find someone else."

"Well, of course, I can, but are you sure?"

"Absolutely. I've got to straighten this out with my family; then we can discuss the details later in the week. We'll formulate a plan to get the optimum return on their investment."

"Okay." That sounded like as much fun as a skin graft. No sense getting worked up about it. He wouldn't be selling the horse in the near future, and he'd soon find that out. Sam knew who owned the horse on paper, and it wasn't Mr. Personality.

Carson turned to walk away. Tight ass, Sam mouthed the words. Carson whipped around as if he'd heard her.

"Have a nice day." She grinned at him over her shoulder as she turned back to the horse.
What would a smile do to that humorless face? She couldn't begin to imagine such a foreign expression on his lips. Did he ever laugh or joke or act like one of the guys? She doubted that, too.

What a shame for such gorgeous looks to be wasted on a guy like him. He should be fat, balding, and short to go with his stellar personality.

Either she'd kill him or they'd end up friends. She voted for murder by slow, excruciating torture.

* * * *

Gabbie nickered after Carson as he strode out of the barn, his back stiff and his shoulders tight. The two humans had been battling for herd supremacy since they’d met. Sam needed some education. Any good lead mare would grab the offending horse by the scruff of his neck and give him a good shake, followed by a disciplinary nip to the butt. That kept the herd in line. Didn’t she understand that mares ruled the herd, not stallions?