Not sure what he had expected, Chance decided this wasn’t it. The furniture might have been new when Cass was a child. Now it looked comfortably shabby. A clunky TV perched on a wooden bookcase and occupied the center of one wall. A metal stand with a saddle that seemed to be in the middle of repairs sat next to it. A leather couch and two ancient recliners formed a semicircle around a battered wooden coffee table made from a slab of pine and two small wooden wheels.
Cass pushed the power button on the TV and waited for the picture to form. Sure enough, one of the local weathermen spouted warnings as he stood in front of a radar image.
“Looks ugly.”
She nodded. “Yeah, and headed this way.” She walked closer and tapped the TV screen with her index finger. “See that? Hail core. I need to get the horses into the barn.”
“I’ll help.”
“No, that’s okay. Buddy and I can do it.”
“Cass, I know horses. I can help.”
She tossed a one-shouldered shrug in his direction, ducked around him and banged the screen door as she left. He glanced down at the dog. She’d banged the door in his face, too. “Wonder what we did wrong, boy?” The dog woofed, and the desultory wag of his tail might translate to a shrug, too.
“Well? You two coming or what?” Cassie’s voice carried through the still air, punctuated almost instantly by a clap of thunder.
“Time to get a move on, Buddy. C’mon, boy.” He opened the door and held it as the dog zipped out and launched off the porch, a gray blur headed straight for Cass. Chance followed at a trot. By the time he caught up, lightning flickered in the sky, and thunder rolled. The horses milled around a field on the other side of the barn.
“Get the barn door,” Cassie yelled, but the rising wind tore her words away. She pointed, and he waved. She climbed the fence as Buddy ducked underneath the bottom rail.
Chance jogged to the barn, ducked inside and shut the door before heading to the far end. He noted the stall doors were already open and padded with fresh straw. He lifted the iron bar on the back door and pushed it open on well-greased rollers. He cut his gaze between the growing storm and the woman and dog working the horses up toward the barn. It was poetry in motion.
In the near distance, a sheet of rain filled the space between cloud and ground, marching across dusty fields. The first fat drops splattered in the dirt at his feet. He stepped out, prepared to help, then realized he might cause more problems by spooking the horses. While he wanted Cass to hurry, he knew she couldn’t. She and Buddy were working the small herd like masters, but the storm galloped toward them.
The rain hit hard, and she was drenched immediately. The horses saw the open door and dashed inside. Chance had just enough time to step into the shadows as they charged in, Buddy hard on their heels. He rolled the door partially closed, leaving enough space for Cass to slip through. She darted in, looking as if she’d just climbed out of a pool. Her hair lay plastered to her head, and her white T-shirt, with the fitting slogan of “Take This Job and Shove It,” did little to conceal every lacy stitch of her Victoria’s Secret bra. He found that intriguingly incongruous. Despite her claims otherwise, Cassie Morgan was a cowgirl—but a cowgirl in a frilly Angel bra.
Chance closed the door, and the gloom in the barn deepened. His eyes adjusted, and he noticed the horses sorting themselves out and heading into stalls, with a little help from Buddy. Cass walked up one side shutting stall gates behind them. Chance took the other side and did the same. They met at the far end, and Cass flipped the light switch. He really wished she hadn’t. He couldn’t take his eyes from her curves. He began to unbutton his shirt.