She’d hated it here, and so would Maddie. As soon as the new wore off, the restlessness would set in. Boone would have to tread a fine line; his best course was to keep an eye out, but stay far, far away. Maddie might tempt him, but she also had the potential to cost him the only thing he had left.
He would stay watchful but stay out of Maddie’s way. Vondell could keep her entertained when she started to go stir-crazy, wanting out of this place.
People thought Boone kept Helen’s picture out because he was still mourning. They couldn’t be farther off the mark.
He kept the picture there to remind him. His father had gone wrong, loving too much. Boone had gone wrong, loving too little. He would avoid both paths to tragedy.
No more love. No more city girls. No more mistakes.
Chapter Four
“Would you look at that?” Jim Caskey whistled.
Boone glanced up from cleaning Gulliver’s hoof. The minute he did, he wished he hadn’t.
“I didn’t know a body would bend that way,” Jim observed.
Jim’s horse shifted, and Gulliver got edgy.
“Pay attention, Jim.”
“Oh, I am, Boone. I surely am.”
“To your horse,” Boone clarified.
“Don’t tell me that sight don’t get your mind working. Any woman that limber…”
“Can it, Jim. Velda would skin and gut you.”
“She would, at that. But it might be worth it.”
Boone took another look and wished he hadn’t. The skintight top and belly-baring pants Maddie wore only emphasized the long legs, the lush breasts, the waist he knew he could span with his hands…
Damn it. He didn’t want to notice, had tried to forget she existed. He’d stayed gone from sunup to past supper for three days, avoiding her.
“Whew, Boone, you see that?” Sonny Chavez rounded the corner.
“He sees, all right. He just ain’t admittin’ it,” Jim replied.
“Don’t you two have anything better to do? If not, maybe this ranch needs to cut the payroll some.”
The two muttered a little, then started moving away, chuckling at something Jim had said. Boone ignored them and concentrated on the hoof pick he wielded, noting that it was past time for Gulliver to be shod.
He let the hoof down and picked up the last one, making short work of cleaning it, studiously ignoring the movement on the porch. But when he let down the last hoof, the gelding shifted and grazed the side of Boone’s foot with one hoof. Twelve hundred pounds, even at a glancing blow, hurt like hell.
“Ouch—damn it!”
Laughter erupted from the doorway. Boone shot a glare where Jim and Sonny stood. “You might want to mind your own advice,” Jim chided. Then he disappeared around the corner.
That did it. Boone chucked the hoof pick into a bucket and started walking, his temper flaring with every step.
It didn’t help that she was so graceful, that the limber, elegant movements were almost poetry in motion. Maddie had no business doing that right here, not in full view of the men. Didn’t the woman have a shred of modesty?
Of course she didn’t. Boone only had to remember the slip of a dress she’d worn the day she came, or the scrap of lace he’d seen in the window. Never mind that millions of women wore much less. Of course, he’d seen Maddie in an old baggy t-shirt yesterday and even it seemed to look—
Hell.
Seductive. It wasn’t the clothes. It was the clothes on her.
Twenty-six days and counting.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he barked.
Maddie jolted, but drew in a deep breath and continued the stance she held. She looked like a human pretzel. Like Jim, he never realized the body could do things like that.
“I was relaxing and doing my yoga,” she replied. “I’ll continue if you’d leave me alone.”
“Why do you have to do it out here?”
Slowly, she untwisted her body and centered her torso over legs spread impossibly wide. Then she bent over in the center, facing him, resting her elbows on the ground.
Boone gritted his teeth and tried not to notice the lean muscles of her thighs, the smooth, tight—
“I asked you a question. Why can’t you do this in your room?”
As slowly as before, Maddie unbent from the waist, her torso rising and giving him a clear view of cleavage he didn’t want to see. Her head lifted, and those bewitching gray eyes studied him too closely.
He wanted to look away. So he didn’t.
“You’re a perfect candidate for yoga, Boone. You need to relax worse than anyone I ever met.”
“I’ll relax when—” He forced himself to stop.
One dark eyebrow arched. “When I’m gone?”