Cowgirls Don't Cry(16)

                He stepped into the soft gloom of the barn and stopped dead in his tracks.

                Cassidy was leaning over a stable door murmuring something he couldn’t understand. The old man stood next to her. Damn but she looked fine in jeans and boots. The plaid flannel shirt tucked into those jeans enhanced every one of her curves instead of hiding them. All the blood in his head rushed south, and he had to lean on the barn door to keep from pitching over face-first.

                Boots opened the stall door, then they both disappeared inside. Chance inhaled several times, adjusted the front of his jeans and stepped deeper into the barn so he could see what was in that stall.

                “Good-lookin’ colt you have there.”

                Cassidy jumped about a foot off the ground, whirled and gasped, her face draining of color.

                “You!”

                He stepped back in mock innocence. “Me?”

                “You! From Chicago!”

                He held his hands, palms forward, out in front of him. “Guilty. Though I have to admit Fate is being a lady today. I figured I’d never see you again.”

                “What are you doing in Oklahoma?” Her brow furrowed, and he decided her glare was one of the cutest expressions he’d ever seen. Then again, there wasn’t much about this woman he didn’t find attractive in one way or another. That seemed to be the Barron family curse—they all had a tendency to think with the wrong part of their anatomy when a pretty woman was involved. He was far from immune from the affliction.

                “I live here. What were you doing in Chicago?” As if they were playing poker, he called her furrowed brows with a sardonic grin and raised her with a wink.

                “I live there.” She sounded accusatory.

                In all honesty, he rather enjoyed keeping her off balance. “So what brings you to Podunk, Oklahoma?” Cassie bristled, and color suffused her cheeks. He wondered if the same thing would happen if she were sexually aroused.

                “Were you there this morning? At the memorial service?”

                She’d seen him, dammit, just as he’d suspected. Well, he had no choice now. “Yeah. Why?”

                “Pardon me for being a bit...suspicious. You try to pick me up in the hotel in Chicago then you follow me here and show up at my father’s funeral. What’s wrong with this picture?”

                “Whoa, darlin’.” She was a sarcastic little thing and damn if he didn’t like it. A lot.

                “Don’t call me that. I don’t even know your name.”

                “My name is Chance—Chancellor.”

                “Well, Mr. Chance Chancellor, you just turn around and walk right on out of here. I don’t know who you are, why you’re following me and frankly, I’m not sure I want to know. Get out and stay out!”

                He blinked as his mind whirled. She’d cut him off before he finished his introduction. And now she was making assumptions about his name. Was it possible she didn’t recognize him? That she had no clue he was a Barron? He wasn’t sure if that bothered him. Okay, it did, but it simplified matters. He could figure things out before she ever guessed what was going on. “Easy, there, girl. I can explain.”

                “Oh? Really? And I’m not a girl, either.”