Christmas With the Mustang Man by Stella Bagwell

until she finally rode over to him and dismounted with a lithe jump.
    â€œHe’s fabulous, Boone! He practically knew what I wanted from him before I ever asked.” Her lips spread into a wide smile. “You’ve done a wonderful job with him. Really wonderful!”
    Boone tried to remain indifferent to her compliment, but he couldn’t deny the warm rush of feelings pouring through him. To have an excellent horsewoman praise his efforts was one thing, but she was also beautiful and classy, and could have her pick of horses and trainers.
    â€œThanks. I’ve got ninety days of training in him.”
    Her eyes widened with amazement. “That’s all? Oh, wow! You are good.”
    Before he even realized it, Boone was chuckling at her remark. “Dallas, didn’t your father ever tell you that you should keep your thoughts to yourself when you’re dealing for horses?”
    She laughed outright and the sound pleased him far more than it should have. She had a sweet, rich laugh that danced over his senses like sunshine sparkling on water.
    â€œI’d make a terrible poker player. When I like something I don’t hide my feelings. Besides, I’m not one to bargain. If I believe a price is fair, then I buy. If not, I simply say thanks and be on my way.”
    When I like something I don’t hide my feelings . She certainly hadn’t tried to hide them when he’d been kissing her, Boone thought. Just the memory of her lips opening beneath his, her arms slipping around his neck, was enough to curl his toes. But that was over. He had to make sure it was over.
    â€œI promise the price will be fair,” he said.
    She turned back to the horse and stroked a hand against his neck. “Does he have a name?”
    â€œNo. I don’t name the ones I train to sell. It makes it easier whenever I have to let them go.” Dear God, she was probably thinking he was as soft as cornmeal mush. But he wasn’t going to pretend that he didn’t get attached to the mustangs. Aside from his daughter, they were his whole life. He spent hours and hours each day in their company. How could he not love them?
    â€œWell, I think I’ll call him Midnight. Not too imaginative. But he’s dark and peaceful, like the middle of a quiet night.”
    He watched her fingers continue to stroke slowly and smoothly down the horse’s shoulder. “Does that mean you want him?”
    Twisting her head around, she looked at him with surprise. “Of course!”
    â€œBut I haven’t quoted a price to you yet.”
    A slow grin spread across her lips and Boone felt the heat that was already simmering low in his belly threaten to leap into a flame.
    â€œYou said you’d be fair and I trust you to keep your word.”
    Something in her voice said she was talking about more than the price of a horse and the idea jolted him. Joan had once trusted him with her very happiness and he’d let her down. Before Dallas left the ranch, he figured he’d probably let her down, too.
    â€œAll right.” He reached for the stallion’s reins. “Let’stake your Midnight back to the barn and saddle up another one.”
    â€œOh, let’s do the brown mare next,” she said as they quickly strode toward the group of tethered horses. “I’ve already decided that she’s Princess.”
    Her excitement was contagious and Boone couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “You can already tell that title fits her, can you?”
    She laughed. “The moment I looked in her eyes.”
    Â 
    For the first time Boone could remember, the morning passed too quickly. When Mick drove back into the ranch yard it was nearly noon and Dallas had already gone into the house to find something for lunch. He’d just finished hanging a saddle in the tack room and was on his way out of the barn when his friend met him in the open doorway.
    â€œWas the windmill