Into the Storm (Signal Bend #3)(13)

She took the empty thermos from him and laid her hand on his arm. Oh, wow. His forearm was huge.

She’d seen it, of course. Until the weather had taken on a bit of fall chill, and he’d started wearing plaid flannel shirts like the one he was wearing under his kutte today, his arms had almost always been bare. But she’d never felt the steely cords of muscle before. Oh, wow.

“Thanks, Show. You didn’t have to do this. I’d’ve gone down for it later on.”

He shrugged, looking down at her hand on his arm. He moved away. “I’m heading out. No problem to swing it by.”

Deciding not to try right this second to figure out what it meant that he’d moved away from her touch, Shannon asked, “The harness work out? Everything ready with the carriage?”

He nodded. “Looks good.” He started to say more, then stopped. Shannon waited, and he started again.

“Edgar’s mane’s looking pretty shabby. Badge’s been trying to even it out, but the one thing he can’t do with a horse is pull a mane. You got anybody else can do it?”

Shannon shook her head. She’d grown up a country girl and had ridden her share of horses, but she’d never gone in for the fancy stuff. The most she’d ever done to a horse’s mane is comb it. And before coming to Signal Bend, she hadn’t been near a horse in twenty years.

“I can do it. I’ll come over tomorrow morning. You got ribbon or something to match the wedding? I can pretty him up some.”

“You can do a horse’s hair?” She couldn’t help but smile. That was maybe the most incongruous image she’d ever had in her head—this mountain of a biker with hands the size of pie plates braiding satin ribbons into Edgar’s mane.

He almost smiled back. “I can pull and braid a mane. You want the help or not?” Even if the smile hadn’t made his face, she could hear it in his voice.

“It would be great, Show. Really. I have more ribbon than I know what to do with.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

They’d just had, by far, the longest conversation they’d had in the four months since she’d met him.

Knowing very well she was pushing it, but in too good a mood and feeling too attracted to him to resist, she took the step that brought her right up to him, rose up on her tiptoes, her hand on his broad wall of a chest, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His skin was rough with stubble above the line of his long goatee. He smelled…enticing. Like a man. He went rigid as soon as she’d put her hand on his chest, but she followed through, working hard to appear oblivious to his discomfort.

“Thank you, Show. That’s a huge help. I’ll see you in the morning.” She went around him and back to her office.

oOo

True to his word, he was there in the morning. When Shannon went outside after breakfast, for her customary coffee on the front porch, his truck was already parked near the barn. She went in and grabbed the ribbons from behind the desk, and then headed down. She’d spent a good portion of her quiet time the previous evening thinking about him and their interaction that day, and she’d decided that she needed to try to make something happen or move on.

Badger was oiling the new harness, and Show had Edgar tied in the center aisle. Edgar was a decent-size roan gelding. Not a bad-looking horse, but nothing special. Shannon leaned against the edge of the big door and watched for a minute. Show had been there awhile—most of the mane was already neat and even. He was talking to the horse while he worked, his voice low and smooth. Edgar seemed to be dozing, though every now and then he’d shake his head and neck a little.

She walked in. “Still surprised you know how to do that.”

With his hands still in Edgar’s mane, he turned his head her way. “Girl I was with in high school showed, but she was little and had to stand on a stool to work her horse’s mane. I learned to do it for her.

Stays with you.”

“Was she properly appreciative of your efforts?” Bold, she knew. But bold was the plan.

She’d surprised him, and he turned to her again. Then, with that little almost-smile from yesterday, he said, “She was.”

She smiled back, a full smile into which she put as much meaning as she knew how. “That’s good, then.” Waving the hand that held the bolts of ribbon, she added, “I brought the ribbons. What do you want me to do with them?”

He nodded over Edgar’s neck toward a shelf. “Set ‘em over there. What kind of braid do you want?”

“What can you do?”

“Nothing fancy. Simple braids. Or buttons. Or loops. I can’t fishtail or any of that English crap.”

“The harness is going to have a garland of flowers over it. Could you braid a couple of colors of ribbon into loops so that they’ll match the flowers?”

Show muttered to the horse, “First they take your manhood, and then they take your dignity. I know, boy.” To Shannon, he said. “Yep. I can do that. Edgar says no pink, though. Not enough apples in the world for pink.”

Still grinning, Shannon said, “Hey! Remember, this was your idea.” She handed him the salmon and gold ribbons.

“That’s pink. What did Edgar just say?”

“It’s not pink, it’s salmon.”

Show just stared at her. She liked him looking at her. She liked this new playfulness, too. He wasn’t flirting—she was, but he wasn’t—but he was more at ease with her than he’d been.