Montana Hearts: Her Weekend Wrangler (11 page)

Ryan Tanner parked his pickup beside them, and when he jumped out, Bree’s pulse kicked faster than a wild pony.

“What do you think?” Bree’s father asked him as he approached. “Can a woman successfully operate two businesses at the same time?”

Ryan gave her a hard look and said, “No. Eventually one will pull you away from the other.”

“See?” her father said, his face breaking
into a grin. “If you don’t believe me, take it from a Tanner.”

Bree pressed her lips together, her excitement fading away. “Ryan, about the mini-­roundups—­”

Her father shook Ryan’s hand. “We sure are honored to have a wrangler like you on our ranch.”

“Except we’ve run into a problem,” Bree said, looping her arm through Ryan’s like she’d seen other women do.

Ryan glanced down at
their entwined arms and then straight into her eyes. “What kind of problem?”

“We don’t have any insurance for the guests to ride with you on the mini-­roundup tonight.” She gave him what she hoped was her brightest smile. “We,” she said, nodding to her father, who had already fawned all over him, “hoped you might give the guests a demonstration in the arena instead.”

Ryan smirked. “Be
a performer?”

“You used to perform at the rodeos.”

“I used to compete,” he corrected, “to make it into the PCA rodeo finals.”

“You were good,” she coaxed. Should she go so far as to bat her lashes at him? No—­no matter how much she needed this she couldn’t do that. “Please, Ryan?”

The look he gave her said he was confused. She should have known this “charm” thing wouldn’t work.
He shook his head. “This isn’t what I signed up for.”

“Please, Ryan?”

Okay, maybe her eyes did blink a few more times than normal. But instead of being charmed, Ryan laughed. “I’ve taught you well. Okay, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll do it, but . . . you will owe me a favor in the future.”

She dropped her arm out of his and frowned. “What kind of favor?”

He grinned and a mischievous
light entered his eyes. “I’ll let you know.”

A short while later, the door to Cabin 12 opened and the three CEOs emerged decked out in all their new western attire. Except it wasn’t the kind Bree, Delaney, or Sammy Jo would wear, or any of the other locals for that matter. All three wore identical outfits: Stetson hats, plaid western blouses, leather belts with silver and gemstone detailing,
fringed leather chaps, and scrolled leather boots. Except Chelsea was dressed all in pink, Katelyn wore neon green, and Rebecca bright yellow.

The cost alone could have booked a cabin for another three weeks. But at least the women were happy, the shopkeeper had been very happy, and when the cashier promised to recommend the Collins guest ranch to everyone who walked through the door, Bree
was happy too. A win-­win for everyone.

“Oooh! Look at him!” Chelsea exclaimed, pointing her finger toward Ryan. “A real cowboy!”

Katelyn hurried over to Delaney, who was photographing Meghan. Luke had put his niece on his shoulders—­despite his cane—­and was giving her a piggyback ride. “Can you use your camera to take our picture?”

Delaney turned toward the three women and nodded.
“Of course. Where do you want to stand?”

“Next to him,” Rebecca said, moving next to Ryan. “Do you mind if we get our picture taken with you?”

He glanced in Bree’s direction as if asking if this was what she meant when she asked him to perform. Then he gave the women that dazzling smile he was known for, the one that made them all flock to him. “Why, certainly, ladies. It would be my pleasure.”

Bree’s stomach swirled with anxiety. This kind of performance was
not
what she had in mind for Ryan tonight. But if Chelsea, Katelyn, and Rebecca were happy . . . they’d be more apt to give their guest ranch the corporate contracts.

However, as Delaney looked through her professional-­grade Canon series lens, the three women struck flirty poses, and Bree had to glance away. Her gaze fell
on Luke, who looked as disgusted as she felt. Swinging Meghan off his shoulder, he gave the little girl a high five, then walked off in the opposite direction toward the house. Bree wished she could do the same, but she’d promised to watch Meghan while Delaney rode with Ryan in the arena.

Man, was he good.
A short time later while watching him round up a dozen of their cows she was glad she
hadn’t left. She’d seen Ryan in action before, but his quick cuts back and forth drew her applause along with Meghan’s and the rest of the enthralled guests’ sitting in the stands. He’d brought over his own horse, the Blue-­Eyed Bandit, the one he’d had her touch at their last training session, and she recalled how warm and strong Ryan’s hands had felt over her own and how his nearness had caused
her heart to quicken.

Heartbreaker.
She smiled. While she knew perfectly well what kind of a guy he was, it still didn’t stop her from appreciating his finer qualities.

She raised her thumb and forefinger to her lips and let out a shrill whistle at the end of his performance. The guests stomped their feet, clapped, issued similar whistles, and hooted with delight. Delaney had also impressed
the crowd with her natural riding skill and they cheered for her, too, but Bree’s attention was on Ryan.

Out of all the ­people he could have fixed his gaze on at this moment, he chose her. He grinned and gave her another mischievous look, this time as if to ask,
Good enough?
Bree nodded, and a shimmy of anticipation coursed over her as she remembered he didn’t perform for free.

She bit
down on her lip. What favor could Ryan Tanner
possibly
ask of her in return?

L
ATER THAT NIGHT,
Delaney helped Meghan into her Disney princess pajamas and tucked her into the bed they would be sharing so Bree could use the adjacent sleeper-­sofa.

“I don’t want to sleep,” Meghan said, rubbing her eyes with her fists.

Bree smiled. “Me neither.”

Digging through a box she’d brought
over from her own room, Bree took out a pair of wire crimpers, an assortment of clasps, beads, faux jewels, and metal charms. As she set out to work, sliding a heart-­shaped charm that said
Dream
onto a foot-­long length of leather cord, she said, “If I make a dozen of these each night, I can have enough to start up my boot bling business in no time.”

Delaney pressed a photo into her nature
journal. “When I took the picture for Chelsea, Katelyn, and Rebecca, it made me wonder if our other guests would like me to take photos of them, too. I could offer a variety of different photo packages and the extra money could help me to support myself and—­” she glanced at her two-­year-­old, who had fallen asleep after all “—­Meghan.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Bree said, wrapping
the leather cord around the ankle of her boot to test the size. “You can also put your photos on postcards and sell them in the office with my jewelry. We’ll open our own gift shop.”

“Postcards,”
Delaney repeated in an excited whisper. “Oh, Bree, I could also sell my flower and animal prints in mats and frames. Make photo magnets. Buttons. Key chains. T-­shirts. If you can start your own business,
so can I.”

Bree held up the finished boot bling to show her sister, and advised, “First you better get yourself a pair of earplugs.”

Delaney frowned. “What for?”

“For
you
, when you tell Dad,” Bree warned. “He wasn’t exactly supportive when I told him I was making jewelry.”

“Is he ever?” Delaney countered.

No.
Their father had never been supportive of any of his children’s ideas
if they didn’t align with his own. Bree shared a brief smile with her sister and sighed. She dreamed that one day . . . just once . . . her father would look at her with pride.

And tell her he believed in her.

O
N
T
UESDAY,
R
YAN
stood outside the corral at a distance agreeable to the man-­hating mare, and watched as Bree played around with the mare’s baby.

Bree used the tiny halter and
brushed the filly’s back, down one side, over the filly’s other side, around the neck, around the ears, nose, and mouth. Morning Glory tried to nibble the halter with her lips, but Bree pulled back just in time.

“Good girl,” Bree said, her voice soft, gentle, and confident as she ran the halter over the filly’s body once again. “This isn’t so scary, is it?”

Bree brought the halter up to
the filly’s head again and this time she was able to slip the nylon hoop right over the nose. Then Bree slid the straps over the ears and secured the buckle along the side of the filly’s head. The filly didn’t like that too much. The young one let out a high-­pitched squeal and pranced around her mother, trying to shake the thing off. When the filly drew toward Bree again, she patted her neck. “Good
girl, Morning Glory. I know you’re a little confused right now, but you’re doing such a wonderful job, yes, you are.”

After receiving a few more minutes of Bree’s attention, the filly finally calmed down. Ryan didn’t blame the filly for trusting her. Bree could lull him into believing all
kinds
of things he didn’t think possible just with the tone of her soft, silky voice.

“You look great
out there,” he called, giving her a nod of approval.

“Do you mean me or the filly?” she teased, flashing him a grin.

“Both,”
he said, smiling. Then he turned his head at the sound of footsteps behind him. His aunt approached, walking beside Cody, who must have just gotten home from school.

“Good afternoon, Aunt Mary,” Ryan greeted as she and Cody joined him by the fence. “We got the
halter on for the first time.”

Aunt Mary’s gaze flew toward Bree, then she scowled. “Why aren’t
you
in there?”

“Bree’s helping us train,” Cody informed her. “The mare likes her.”

“Ryan,” his aunt said, lowering her voice. “I wanted
you
to train the filly, not some . . .” Her voice hardened. “Not someone
else
.”

Bree cast them a nervous glance and Ryan wondered if she’d overheard.
Probably not, but Bree could read body language. It was part of her skill as a horse trainer.

“Bree’s the best,” Ryan assured his aunt. “And I can’t do it, because the mare won’t let me near her or the filly.”

“Tsh,” his aunt protested. “That’s crazy talk. The mare’s a sweetheart.”

“She hates me,” Ryan said. “Watch.”

He opened the gate to the corral and slowly walked in. When he
got within fifteen feet of the mare, the horse’s eyes widened, she flattened her ears, and began to twitch her tail back and forth in an agitated motion. Returning to his aunt, he asked, “See?”

Aunt Mary frowned. “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing. The day she arrived, she took one look at me and my brothers and pitched a fit.”

“Ryan, females of
every
species adore you. Can’t you find
a way to—­”

“Not without Bree.”

“I didn’t hire Bree, I hired
you
.” Aunt Mary’s forehead creased and her eyes narrowed. “Don’t you understand? I want the foal of my Apollo trained by a
Tanner
, someone to carry on the family tradition.”

Ryan watched Bree crook her finger toward Cody and motion him into the round pen. “What do you want me to do, Aunt Mary? Fire her?”

Aunt Mary hesitated,
and Ryan realized her raw emotion must mean his aunt was feeling worse. He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry I—­”

“What’s she doing now?” his aunt said, cutting him off.

Ryan glanced toward the corral. Bree had clipped a lead rope to the halter and wrapped it around the filly’s body so that the pressure on her rear would push the horse forward. Next, Bree instructed Cody to set out a series of
bright orange cones and proceeded to lead Morning Glory in a pattern between them. The filly’s back end zigzagged this way and that, and the foal bounced around with a series of little bunny hops, but all in all, the rest of the training session went well. When Bree finished, she returned Morning Glory to her mother, cast Ryan and his aunt a quick glance, and walked toward them.

Cody ran ahead
of her. “Did you see me, Aunt Mary? Bree said I can help train.”

“Behind the scenes, of course,” Bree interjected. “I’d never do anything to put Cody in harm’s way.” She took Aunt Mary’s hand in hers. “Hi. I’m Bree Collins. Thank you so much for allowing me to teach your grandnephew how to train. You see, the mare doesn’t mind boys. It’s just the big men like Ryan she’s worried about. I’m
hoping Cody can help me desensitize the filly to the noises the crowd might make at the halter show by popping balloons, ringing bells, blowing whistles, and waving flags. I’ll also explain everything I’m doing and why so he can train horses himself when he’s older.”

Aunt Mary’s face softened. “My grandnephew. Yes,
that
. . . would mean so much to me.”

Ryan grinned as he met Bree’s gaze.
She
had
been in tune with what his aunt had been thinking, and she was cunning and charming and
smart
.

“Bree held the lead rope,” Cody told them. “But I led the way and the filly followed me wherever I went.”

Aunt Mary nodded, her pale face beaming with pride. “I saw you and I think you’ll make a marvelous horse trainer, like your dad.”

“And like Bree,” Cody added. “Bree’s the best.”

“Yes, she is,” Ryan agreed, glancing at Bree again. She’d given them each a nod and slipped back into the corral with the horses. When he turned back toward his aunt he found her studying him with a smile and an amazed look on her face. And since she was now in such a good mood it seemed the perfect time to ask her about using her field.

“The Owenses won’t be too happy,” Aunt Mary said
after he’d finished explaining the situation, “but family comes first. Of course you can use my field to replant your hay.” She gave him another smile. “Under one condition.”

His aunt was laying out
conditions
? Ryan held his breath as he waited for his aunt to continue.