Rolling Like Thunder. Vicki Lewis Thompson

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      “It’s not just the calendar.” Chelsea gazed at him. “So how long since you’ve dressed like a cowboy?”

      “About five years. Basically since I moved to Seattle. Why?”

      “Oh, it’s just that some guys get more appealing as the years go by and some get less. You might be in the first category.”

      He laughed and shook his head. “No. It’s the calendar. I just have to brace myself for the reaction to it from now on.”

      “If you say so.” She tucked the calendar back in her laptop case. Then she dug around for her earbuds because she wanted to hear the background music she’d chosen to accompany her PowerPoint, as well as the sound for the accompanying videos. At last she cued it up on the screen and put in the earbuds. “Back to work.”

      Finn tapped her on the shoulder and she pulled out an earbud. “What?”

      “Can I listen, too?”

      “Okay.” Sharing the earbuds meant leaning close to each other, but she wouldn’t mind getting his input even if it meant putting up with the warmth of his body, the delicious scent of his aftershave and the sound of his breathing.

      Once they were huddled together, she started the PowerPoint. Focusing on it with him so close wasn’t easy, but it was a good test of whether the presentation was any good. She’d opened with stirring music and the TMA logo: a horseshoe with the letters at the top created to resemble snowy mountain peaks. Next was a slide of the snowcapped Big Horn Mountain range with her shout line: Thunder Mountain Academy—Built on a Foundation of Caring.

      Rosie had sent her some old photos of the ranch during its years as a foster-care facility and Chelsea had created a montage along with some explanatory text. Finn as a teenager appeared in several of the pictures. She heard his breath catch as he watched.

      She’d introduced the next segment with the title “A New Era Dawns” and a brief explanation of the program. Then she’d included videos of Lexi, Cade’s girlfriend, giving riding lessons, plus one of Cade schooling a horse. Herb, a retired veterinarian, was shown delivering a foal. Ben Radcliffe would teach saddle making, and he’d sent some beautiful photos of his work. The academic benefits of the program were outlined, and then Rosie appeared in shots of an outdoor feast around a large campfire.

      A brief video tour of the ranch house, the barn and the four log cabins where the students would live rounded out the presentation. It ended with a picture of Rosie, Herb, Cade, Lexi and Ben all wearing T-shirts bearing the TMA logo as they stood smiling in front of the ranch house. The last slide was once again set against the Big Horn range and carried the slogan “Thunder Mountain Academy. Fostering respectful stewardship of our equine friends through experience and education.”

      The music swelled to a crescendo and faded as the image on the screen slowly disappeared. Chelsea thought it was pretty good. Not perfect, but then she was never completely satisfied with her work.

      Beside her, Finn took a deep breath as he removed his earbud. “That was spectacular.”

      “Oh, I’m not so sure it’s spectacular, but—”

      “No, Chels, it’s spectacular.” He settled his intense blue gaze on her. “And you’re not charging us a dime, either. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you.”

      As she looked into his eyes she could think of several ways, but he wouldn’t want to hear them. “Aren’t we supposed to meet the Chance family at a saloon called the Spirits and Spurs tonight?”

      “That’s the plan.”

      “Then once we get there, you can buy me a drink.” It wasn’t what she really wanted from him, but for now it would have to do.

2

      FINN WOULD HAVE liked to watch the presentation again, but Chelsea wanted to polish it some more. She spent the rest of the trip, including the layover in Salt Lake City, tweaking it. And she accused him of being anal.

      After they landed in Jackson, they picked up the gray SUV she’d reserved and he drove to the little town of Shoshone while she continued to play with the PowerPoint file.

      “You’re missing the scenery.”

      “That’s okay.” She didn’t look up from the screen. “I’ll see it on the way back.”

      “Surely it’s done by now.”

      “Mostly, but every time I look at it I see one more thing I want to fix. The presentation tomorrow is super important.”

      “I’m well aware of that, but the version I saw on the plane should do the trick.”

      “It’s way better now.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard of her laptop. “There. That font pops more than the other one.”

      “There’s such a thing as working a project to death, you know.”

      She glanced up. “Did you really say that? You, a card-carrying member of Perfectionists Anonymous?”

      “I’m beginning to think you founded the club. I don’t remember you fiddling this much with the O’Roarke’s Brewhouse PowerPoint.”

      “That’s because I worked on it in the middle of the night and you weren’t there. How would you feel if something this important was riding on your expertise?”

      He contemplated that. “I see what you mean.”

      “Thank you.” There was triumph in her voice. “If you’d been the one responsible for this very important PowerPoint, you would have made me drive while you worked on it.”

      “Well, you’re going to have to stop because there’s the Bunk and Grub up ahead. We don’t have much time to check in before we head over to meet the Chance family at the saloon.”

      She turned off her laptop and tucked it into her carrying case. “Looks just like the picture on the website, a cute little Victorian. With a name like the Bunk and Grub, you’d think it would be more rustic.”

      “The Spirits and Spurs is rustic. We passed it on the way here.”

      “Is it close?”

      “A couple of blocks. We could walk it.” Then he thought of her high-heeled sandals. “Or not. I forgot about your shoes.”

      “If I can take the hills of Seattle in these I can certainly walk a couple of blocks on flat ground.” She glanced down at her outfit. “But are you sure I’ll be okay wearing this? Not that I have anything more Western and rustic to change into.”

      “Chels, you’d look great in a feed sack.” He wondered if he should have said that. But it was true. She had an instinctive sense of style.

      “Unfortunately, I didn’t bring a feed sack. I don’t even know what they look like, but I’m sure they’re rustic. Being a cowboy and all, you probably know all about them.”

      He laughed. “I do. Listen, whatever you СКАЧАТЬ