Denim & Diamonds by Lori Robinett Page A

and shaking his head. She thought men were dense, and he thought women were. Her father probably had, too. She was waiting for him and he was waiting for her.

Goosebumps covered her arms as a breeze through the alleyway touched her wet skin. Beau stood beside Digger, who was covered with drying lather, holding the hose in one hand. Water splattered against the floor, forgotten. Beth looked at Beau. His eyes met hers, then they dropped a bit lower and she quickly crossed her arms when she realized that the overspray had plastered her cotton t-shirt to her curves.
    One corner of his mouth twitched up as he turned his attention back to Digger and rinsed the soap suds off the horse and down the drain. The horse snorted and shook.
    She frowned and leaned against the rough wooden wall, arms still crossed. All that time lost. Why hadn't her father just come right out and asked her to visit him?
    Beau pushed the hydrant handle down and the sudden silence was heavy. He looped the hose over the hook and said, “You really don’t get it, do you?”
    Beth blinked and let her hands drop back to her sides. “Get what? What do you mean?”
    “Your daddy loved you. He dreamed of you coming here. You think that pink bedroom was set up for any random overnight guest that came along?” Beau shook his head, snagged a long metal tool from the tack bucket and scraped water from the animal's coat.
    Beth pushed away from the wall. “No, it was for his women. Mother told me he was quite the ladies' man.”
    "No it wasn't for his women. Stop and think about it," he replied with a grunt and shook his head. “Did the clothes fit you?”
    She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t find the words. The bedroom. The clothes. It all made sense suddenly.
    It was all for her.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
     
    T he revelation that her father had truly loved her was a turning point, and she intended to honor his memory by earning her inheritance. It was that simple. Her ongoing challenge was to convince Beau that she could be trusted with the Diamond J, that she deserved her inheritance. They set up a recurring meeting in her father's library on the last day of each month, to go over the financials. She wanted to know how she was doing, and he used that time to update her on his breeding and training plans.
    The next day, Beth added another task to her routine and perched on the top rail of the fence watching while Beau trained the young horses. Shep, her father’s border collie, sat at her feet just outside the round pen.
    The other ranch hands laughed at Beth because she took copious notes. She knew they thought she was writing letters or doodling. In fact, she kept detailed notes about the training of each and every horse on the ranch.
    She was determined to know the business inside and out – and that meant knowing the horses. Beth had no experience with horses. No experience with any animals, for that matter, but she had always been a fast learner. A job was a job, and she tackled this one with the same work ethic that had served her well at the firm.
    She announced at dinner one evening at the end of May that the ranch would host an Labor Day barbecue, with rodeo cowboys throughout the Midwest invited. She poured over pedigrees, read magazines about horses and studied books on ranch management. Beau often scoffed at her, not about to take the word of a city girl. He indulged her, but she was certain he didn't take her seriously.
    Then, one day, she called out to him as he was having trouble with Buck, a two year old sorrel gelding. “Beau, could you work him clockwise again?”
    Beau grunted, but held out the long whip and turned the horse. Before he’d gone a quarter of the way around the pen, the horse

tossed his head and his nostrils flared. Beau had his hands full until he turned the horse again. Within a stride or two, the horse settled into an even rhythm. Beau’s eyes met Beth’s and he nodded. She felt a thrill at the silent acknowledgement of