She knelt down and let Rebel give her a few kisses, too. “You are such a sweetie. Is this your home, boy? Oh! Okay. Now that was a wet one.” She wiped away the slick of wetness from her cheek as Rick whistled, drawing Rebel back to him.
“Sorry about that. Rebel never met anyone he didn’t like.”
“I don’t mind. I love dogs. I just wish my apartment complex allowed pets.”
Rick motioned for her to follow him. “That’s too bad. I’d hate to be without a dog. Most of us don’t like dogs much, but we’ve always had at least one.”
“Yeah, me, too. But until I decide to buy a home, that’s what I have to deal with. Besides, I’m gone too much to have a pet.”
She narrowed her eyes, suddenly aware of what he’d said. “What did you mean about most of you not liking dogs? Don’t a lot of ranchers have dogs?”
“Sure.” Rick shrugged, averting his eyes. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
She wasn’t quite sure why, but she didn’t believe him. Still, it wasn’t a big enough deal to keep questioning him.
She leaned against the first stall that Rick went into. The beautiful bay horse lifted his head and nickered at his arrival, then butted his muzzle against the man, obviously asking for a treat. Rick dug into his pocket and pulled out a small chunk of carrot.
“Here you go, Skipper. Hey, now. Don’t get greedy.”
Rebel scampered after Gunner as he went into the stall on the other side. Gunner took off the saddle and started brushing the horse she’d seen him riding. Kid leaned on the railing of that stall, but kept most of his weight off it. More than once, he’d ended up breaking whatever he was leaning on.
She studied the stall and the rest of the barn again. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t find fault with any of it.
“Do you ride, Mallory?” Rick bent over to examine the animal’s horseshoes.
A second before she’d started to correct him, to tell him to call her Mal again, she stopped. Her mother had named her Mallory and she’d never liked it much. It had seemed too girlish. But coming from Rick, the name sounded pretty good.
“I do. I took equestrian lessons when I was in my teens.”
Rick straightened up, his eyebrows lifted, and an amused expression on his face. “Equestrian lessons, huh? Folks around here just call it riding. Did you do the fancy jumping stuff and put pretty bows on your horse?”
He’d caught her slip up. Or had she wanted to impress him? Most of the time, especially when dealing with Texas ranchers, she preferred to keep her past hidden. As soon as they found out that she’d grown up with wealthy parents, they tended to disregard her opinions. She didn’t flaunt her wealth, which is part of the reason she’d taken the cashier’s job at the bank. Aside from giving to many charities and funding her research on animal cruelty, she stuck the rest into investments. She wasn’t even sure how much she was worth any longer.
“It’s called dressage and the fancy jumping stuff is called hurdles racing. And yes. I put pretty bows on my horse, but only for competitions.”
“I bet you wore the black coat and the little black hat, too.”
She let out a sigh, resisted the urge to face Gunner, then gave into it. “Yes, that’s kind of a requirement, especially when you compete. Go on. You can make fun of it all you want, but you have to be a damn fine rider to do the hurdles.”
Rick finished checking his horse over, then left that stall to walk toward the back of the barn. Tilting her head to the side, she watched him, enjoying the lazy way he walked. His butt was a fine thing to study.
Kid cleared his throat, breaking into her trance. She rolled her eyes at a grinning Kid and hurried after Rick.
“Have you ever done any cattle drives or barrel racing?”
“No, but how hard can it be?”
Rick shook his head and strode out of the barn to a large pen. A number of cows plodded around the arena, stopping every once in a while to munch on a patch of dry grass. “Harder than you’d think, I bet. Sitting a good saddle isn’t enough. You have to know the animals you’re dealing with.” He gave her a stern, piercing look. “Do you know cattle, Mallory? Or are they just big dogs to you?”
He didn’t give her a chance to answer and she wasn’t sure she would’ve known what to say. Instead, he opened the gate, then waved her toward the cattle. “Feel free to check them over. Make sure we haven’t beaten or starved them. I wouldn’t want you to misrepresent us.”
“Trust me. I’ll tell it straight.”
One look around told her what she needed to know. None of the animals appeared neglected. If anything, they looked healthier than most she’d seen on other ranches.