Christmas with the Mustang Man. Stella Bagwell

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      “Hello,” he greeted in response.

      As the two of them met on the bare, hard-packed earth, Boone removed his glove and extended his hand to her. Even though he was damned irritated at her for showing up at a ridiculous hour, she was still a potential client. And for the past few months horse buyers hadn’t exactly been beating down his door. The last thing he wanted to do was offend this one with bad manners.

      “I’m Boone Barnett,” he introduced himself. “And you must be Ms. Donovan?”

      A wide smile spread her cherry-colored lips and Boone found himself staring at the woman. He’d not been to town in weeks and even when he was there he didn’t take much notice of people, especially women, but something about the warmth on her face had struck him.

      She was far younger than he’d expected and definitely prettier. Light, copper-red hair fell in thick waves to her shoulders and with each gust of wind, it tossed around her head like a bright silk scarf.

      She grasped his hand in a firm shake while dimples bracketed her lips and Boone suddenly realized it was going to be an effort to do business with this woman. She had an irritating ability to remind him he was a man, one that had lived without a woman for a long, long time.

      “That’s right,” she said. “Call me Dallas. And I want to apologize for showing up so late this evening. The trip out here took much longer than I expected. My truck kept trying to quit on me.”

      He’d expected to hear some sort of excuse for her tardiness, but not this one. “It appeared to be running just fine when you pulled up a few moments ago,” he couldn’t stop himself from pointing out.

      A faint line furrowed the center of her pale forehead. “For the past mile or two it seemed to smooth out. But several times during the trip out here the engine choked down to a crawl and died. I filled the tank with fuel at Pioche and I’m beginning to wonder if water might have been in the diesel.”

      He studied the tiny movements of expression crossing her face and decided her explanation was sincere. Not that the reason for her tardiness mattered, but her honesty did. He wasn’t about to let even one of his horses go to someone who lied. Liars tended to have other faults and his mustangs were like his children. Once they left for a new home, he wanted them to be in the best of hands.

      “Could be you picked up some bad fuel,” he agreed. “But whatever the problem, let’s hope it’s fixed itself.”

      She let out a long breath. “I hope so, too. The truck belongs to my brother. He was kind enough to let me bring it on this trip, but he won’t be very happy with me if the engine is ruined. Especially since the truck is practically new.”

      The realization that he was still holding her hand suddenly hit Boone and though his first instinct was to drop it like a hot brick, he released it slowly and then jammed his hand deep into the pocket of his coat.

      She pulled a thick white scarf from the pocket on her jacket and as she quickly wrapped it around her neck, she said, “I tried calling, to give you a heads-up that I was going to be late. But my cell couldn’t pick up a signal.”

      He tried to smile, but his face was stiff from the cold. Not that he could use the brutal weather as an excuse. These past few years Boone had pretty much forgotten how to lift the corners of his mouth. But something about this woman made him want to try to appear friendly and normal, even if he wasn’t particularly feeling that way.

      “Cell phones are useless out here,” he informed her. “We’re too far away from civilization to have a signal tower anywhere near.”

      The wind continued to blow her hair in all directions, and she caught the wayward strands with one hand as she turned her head and surveyed the open land around them. Although her clothes were casual, she wore them with class and it was easy for Boone to see that she’d not purchased them from a discount store. No, this lady was first-class all the way.

      “I thought our ranch was isolated, but this place has the Diamond D beat all to pieces,” she remarked. “I don’t think I passed another house for the past fifteen miles.”

      Because she’d contacted him by phone before she’d made the trip, Boone was already aware that this young woman lived in southern New Mexico, ran a riding stable for handicapped children and was interested in purchasing mustangs. Other than those bits of information, he knew nothing about her personally. But he was definitely learning fast.

      He asked, “Is there someone else still sitting in the truck? You didn’t travel all this way alone, did you?”

      She smiled again and his gaze automatically focused on the twinkle in her eyes. Was she just the happy sort, he wondered, or was this her way of flirting?

      A woman like her flirting with a man like you? Hell, Boone, you’re really losing it.

      “I made the trip by myself. None of my family or friends was available to travel with me this time.”

      Boone’s gaze zeroed in on her ring finger. Did her family include a husband? He couldn’t imagine this young, attractive woman was still single. But there was no ring of any sort on her left hand.

      Why are you wondering about any of that, Boone? Dallas Donovan is here to buy horses. Her marital status is none of your business.

      Stunned that he’d let his curiosity wander so far, Boone did his best to jerk his focus back on the real purpose of this woman’s visit.

      “Well, I’m glad you made the trip safely, only there’s not much daylight left.” He gestured toward a maze of outbuildings and connecting corrals. “You’re welcome to look around while I finish spreading feed. There’s a yard lamp on the left side of the big barn. You might be able to see a few of the horses I’ve corralled there.”

      “Sure,” she happily agreed. “Now that I’m here, I’d love to see what I can.”

      The man turned away from her and started walking toward a long, low barn with several adjoining corrals. Dallas fell in step beside him and as they moved along, she purposely fastened her gaze upon their destination. Yet keeping her eyes off Boone Barnett did little to push him out of her thoughts.

      Meeting this man in person had been like a wham on the head. Something about him had instantly grabbed her attention and still hadn’t let go. Maybe because the real thing was a far cry from the image she’d formed when she’d spoken to him over the phone.

      First of all, she’d been expecting him to be at least in his fifties or sixties. Instead, he appeared to be just a few years older than her thirty-two. And secondly, he was very tall. At five foot nine, it wasn’t often that Dallas encountered a man that was a head taller than her, but Boone Barnett was that and more. And from the width of his shoulders beneath the plaid jacket, his height was backed up by a very solid foundation.

      Even in the waning light, she could see his features were lean and hawkish and tanned to a nut-brown color. The somberness of his face both intrigued and bothered Dallas. She hated to think he might be a man plagued with worries and troubles. It was hard to do business with a person who couldn’t see the lighter side of things.

      At the front of the largest barn, he picked up a red plastic feed bucket and pointed to a corral to their immediate left. “There’s a small herd of yearlings in that pen. The mares are next to them. Look all you want, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

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