Branded by Laura Wright Page B

wasn’t happening again. Allowing her any kind of power over him would be a huge mistake and could end up costing him the Triple C.
    â€œAnything else, sir?” Sheridan asked, once again cutting into his thoughts.
    â€œNo. Thank you, Sheridan.”
    He ended the call, then placed his phone in his pocket and strode into the barn. He thought about moving right on past the beautiful foreman who was truly a perfect combination of hard and soft, and checking out the Triple C’s horseflesh. But when he reached her gelding, she turned to acknowledge him.
    â€œMornin’, Deacon.”
    â€œMackenzie.”
    â€œYou’re up early,” she said with a trace of guarded humor in her tone.
    â€œAlways,” he returned. In fact, he’d been up since dawn, working, handling business overseas.
    â€œSo where’s the suit and tie?” Her eyes worked up and down his body, took in his jeans, boots, and white T-shirt. “You look like a cowboy in that getup.”
    â€œI am a cowboy, Mac. Nothin’ll take that out of me.”
    Her eyes softened a touch. “I’m glad to hear it.”
    Deacon stared at her, knowing he should be moving along. Doing what he’d come out here to do. Ride a horse until they were both exhausted and covered in sweat. But those eyes of hers, they held him hostage. And they weren’t the only things. It was something about the way the warm sunlight pushed through the cracks in the barn walls, hitting her with a thousand spotlights. She just glowed, her face, her skin, even her thick, dark hair that was braided and hanging over one tanned shoulder.
    His fingers twitched as he imagined wrapping them around that braid and easing her toward him.
    Damn,
he groaned silently. He needed to end this. These thoughts were crazy. Beneath him. Unlike him in every way.
    Her horse lifted its head then and nudged Deacon’s shoulder. He reached out and gave the black gelding a few strokes on the neck. “Gorgeous animal.”
    â€œYes, he is,” she agreed, smiling as she turned back to the overo. “His name’s Gypsy, and he’s all mine.” Her voice softened. “Thanks to Everett.”
    Though the acknowledgment triggered quick irritation inside Deacon, he pushed it away. She thought the world of Everett, and nothing was going to change that. Except for maybe knowing the truth about what had happened all those years ago. And he wasn’t doing any sharing.
    â€œSo you going on a pleasure ride?” he asked as she reached for a bridle from a hook nearby. “Or is this work?”
    â€œI told Blue to take the day off. The cowboys are moving cattle, so me and my hangover are going solo to fix some fences.”
    As she slipped the bridle over the gelding’s head, she paused for a moment. “I could use some help.” She glanced up, her eyes shuttered now. “What do you think? You up for it?”
    There was something in the way she’d asked that made warning bells go off inside of him. “You want me to help fix something I’m just going to break later?”
    Her jaw went rigid, and for a moment, Deacon thought she was going to pitch some choice cursewords his way. Shoot, he wouldn’t blame her if she had. But then she took a deep breath, let it out, and shrugged.
    â€œIt’s an invitation, Deacon. Plain and simple.” She cocked her head. “You either accept or you don’t.”
    A loud whinny echoed throughout the barn, making Gypsy dance in place a bit. Deacon glanced past the gelding’s head to a stall farther down on the left. A beautiful chestnut mare with wicked eyes had her head out. She had to be close to seventeen hands and she was glaring something fierce at him. He liked her instantly.
    â€œWhat’s that girl’s name?” he asked Mackenzie.
    â€œTrouble.”
    His eyes cut to her. “You’re kiddin’.”
    She shook her head, her eyes suddenly