The Prince's Cowgirl Bride

“Well, that’s a relief,” he said.

She gestured for him to sit, but he scooped the basket of warm rolls and the pitcher of steaming gravy from the counter to set on the table before she could do so.

She slanted him a look, as if his willingness to assist with domestic chores was something else she hadn’t expected, but silently took her own seat on the other side of the table.

He loaded his plate with a generous helping of beef and vegetables and noted that she did the same. When he passed her the pitcher of gravy, she smothered her plate with it.

They chatted casually while they ate, about the horses and the routines in her stables and then about thoroughbred training and racing in general. He enjoyed her company as much as dinner because of her sharp intelligence and wry humor and found he was reluctant for the meal to end.

When she got up to get dessert, she frowned at the clock. “Is it seven-thirty already?”

“Looks like,” he agreed. “Is there somewhere else you need to be?”

“No.” She slid a generous slice of cake onto a plate. “I was just wondering what kind of errand could have kept Bonnie out so long.”

As if on cue, the phone rang. Jewel passed him the plate then excused herself to answer the call.

“That was Bonnie checking in,” she said, when she returned to the table. “Apparently she and Crystal decided to stop for coffee and got caught up chatting with some mutual acquaintance.”

He stabbed his fork into the cake, noting that while she’d started to relax over dinner, she wasn’t so relaxed now. Was she anxious for him to leave? Or nervous because the phone call had reminded her that they were alone together?

She sat back down with obvious reluctance and cut herself a much smaller piece of cake.

“Tell me about Haven,” he said. “The more I know about it, the more useful I can be.”

“Why are you so eager to help out?”

“I figured that was obvious,” he said. “I’m trying to ingratiate myself to you so you’ll keep me around, maybe even consider having a hot and torrid affair with me.”

Jewel glanced at Mac across the table. “Was that comment intended to fluster or flatter me?”

He shrugged. “I’m guessing it failed on both counts.”

Actually it had succeeded on both counts, but she wasn’t willing to let him know it. Or know that she’d given some thought to the same thing.

“Are you always so suspicious when someone offers you help?” he asked her.

“Let’s just say that I’ve learned to look for the strings that are usually attached.”

“I like horses,” he said. “And, for some reason, I like you, too. Maybe it did occur to me that spending time at Haven might result in spending time with you, but my motives are no more nefarious than that.”

“Well, you were right about extra hands being needed at Haven,” she said. “And if you really want to spend your spare time there, I have no objection.”

“That’s incredibly gracious of you,” he said.

She smiled at his dry tone. “Yeah, Crystal’s always telling me I need to work on my social skills. But the horses don’t usually complain.”

“I’m not complaining,” he said.

She took the tray of leftovers to the counter to wrap up. She heard the scrape of chair legs on the floor as Mac pushed away from the table, too, then brought their plates to the counter.

“Are you going to question my motives for clearing the table, too?”

She bit down on her lip, because she’d been tempted to do exactly like that. Instead she said, “I appreciate your help, but I can handle it.”

He ignored her and began loading the dishwasher.

“You’ve got to be up early in the morning,” she pointed out.

“And you’ll be up just as early,” he noted. “Whatever time I walk into the stable, you’ve already been there.”

“It’s my stable,” she pointed out.

“No one’s disputing that.” He nudged her aside with his hip so he could move around to the other side of the dishwasher.

The brief contact shot arrows of awareness zinging through her system.

She stepped back quickly and braced her hands on the counter behind her. As she did so, her elbow bumped a water goblet on the counter and sent it crashing to the floor. The glass shattered, jagged shards flying.

Silently cursing her clumsiness, she started toward the closet for the broom.

“Watch,” Mac said.

“I am,” she snapped irritably, then swore when she stepped down on a piece of glass.

She lifted her foot, saw the blood was already dripping.

Before she could say anything, he scooped her up off her feet and lifted her onto the counter. Her breath whooshed out of her, though she wasn’t sure if that was because of the unexpected jolt when he plunked her down or the surprising thrill of being held by a strong man.

He took a step back and picked up her foot. His hand was warm, his touch firm but gentle, and somehow incredibly sensual.

“Mac—”

He snagged a paper towel from the roll. “Just let me take a look.”

She didn’t see as she had much choice in the matter. And when his thumb slid over her instep, she didn’t protest because she was incapable of speaking.

He dabbed gently at the blood. “You up-to-date on your tetanus shots?”

“I had one a couple of years ago,” she said.

“It doesn’t look like it needs a stitch, but it definitely needs some antiseptic cream and a bandage.”

“There’s a first-aid kit in the bathroom. If you let me get down, I’ll—”

“You stay put,” he said. “I’ll get it.”

“You give orders better than you take them, Mac,” she noted when he returned with the box of medical supplies.