Meeting Her Match

Like a turtle without a shell, Sheri glared accusingly up at Lacy. Her pale blond hair stuck out from beneath her orange ball cap like pie meringue gone bad. A picture Sheri could easily visualize since right then and there she would love nothing more than to splatter a cream pie right smack in the dead center of her beaming face.

Of course, she wouldn’t. “It’s too early,” she groaned instead.

“Get out of that bed, woman!”

Okay, maybe she would like to toss a pie, she thought, popping an eye open, watching Lacy drop the covers to the floor. When Lacy spun and reached for her hand, Sheri scowled at her as the fluffy cream pie sailed across her mind’s eye.

“C’mon, Lacy, give a girl a break,” she groaned again but couldn’t help chuckling at the look Lacy gave her. The I’ve-heard-that-before look.

Nowadays, no one would realize that Sheri had been an extremely shy child until Lacy had befriended her. After being tugged along on Lacy’s escapades, Sheri, the shy girl who’d learned to blend into the wall and not be seen, had slowly come out of her shell. It had totally been an act of survival.

But there were times, like now, that Sheri had to remind herself how grateful she was that Lacy had come along and changed her life for the better. Sheri dug her feet in at the bathroom doorway and stared at Lacy. “You know, I’m going to get you for this,” she yawned.

“Trust me, Sheri. I have a hunch you’re going to thank me once you down some coffee and see exactly what’s waiting at the horse pens. Now get on in there, and I’ll have you some coffee made when you get out. But you have to hurry, hurry, hurry!”

Before Sheri could make a comeback, Lacy gave one last shove and yanked the door closed between them. “Just think, Sheri. Wild mustangs! Real, live American heritage at our ranch. It’s the coolest thing.”

“Yippy yiyay and yada, yada, yada,” Sheri said softly as Lacy’s chattering and the clunk of her boots retreated across the hardwood floor.

Peace and quiet at last. Sheri sighed. Slumping against the door, she raked her fingers through her hair, yawned, and thought about coffee.

Lacy made good coffee….

After a quick shower, she headed toward the kitchen feeling a bit more human. Although she wasn’t sure she looked more human. For the sake of time and the early hour, she’d opted to yank her hair into a ponytail and slap her pink ball cap over it. And forget makeup. She and Lacy would just be a mess together, because no matter what—it was way too early in the morning to worry about appearances.

“Okay, girlfriend,” she said, entering the kitchen. “Why did you drive all the way over here to wake me up and drag me all the way back over to your ranch? Especially when you know how grumpy I am at this hour.” She latched on to the steaming mug Lacy held out to her, held it beneath her nose and let the rich aroma seep into her senses.

“Because with all the talk focused on you and J.P., I didn’t have a chance to tell you about Pace and the horses. They’re going to be in the pens around the corner from your house.”

Sheri took a sip of coffee, only to wince at the reminder of the cowboy. “Speaking of which, I tried to call you about that last night. How could you not tell me someone was moving in over there? Is that place even fit for someone to move into?”

“Hey, I was goin’ to tell you.”

“Goin’ to don’t cut the mustard, sister.”

Lacy made a face at her. “I can’t help it. The girls came in and started up about all that J.P. business, and I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. I did tell you that Clint’s friend was moving to town to start a horse-breaking business. It was a while back, though, and believe me, from what Clint says that shack is a palace compared to what Pace was used to living in back in Idaho. Why, the man practically lived like a caveman.”

“That I would believe.”

Lacy smiled. “You met him, huh?”

Sheri did not smile. “Affirmative. The guy is definitely a Neanderthal. He’s like, like…angry.”

“He’s not angry.”

“So says you. The man is a grizzly. An angry grizzly.”

“Sheri, he’s just used to being alone. And he, well, he is here under duress, but he’s willing, so he’s not angry. He’s just a fish out of water, so to speak.”

“Maybe a barracuda.” Sheri took another drink of coffee, ignoring the memory of those serious gray eyes.

“But he’s cute, huh?”

Sheri rolled her eyes as she headed toward the door.

“Come on. Admit it, Sheri girl. He’s, like, a hunk, and since when have you not noticed a hunk within a ten-mile radius?”

Since I very nearly got my heart trampled, that’s when.

Sheri pushed away the thought and walked out onto her porch, shocked all over again by the darkness and the fact that it was, by all appearances, still snoozing time. “Lacy, we’re up before the roosters. Do you realize that?”

“Hey, it’s good for you.”

“Hay is for cows. And daybreak is for roosters,” Sheri grumbled, opening the passenger door of Lacy’s beloved 1958 pink Caddy. Not wanting to lose a precious drop of her coffee, she waited while Lacy sprang over to the driver’s door in her usual Bo Duke style. Once she’d landed with a happy thud, then and only then did Sheri sit down beside her—a routine learned after many cups of sloshed coffee and speckled shirts.

“I can’t believe you’re trying to deny Pace Gentry is a hunk,” Lacy continued as she backed the big car around and headed out of the driveway.

Sheri had learned over the years that it was best to keep some things to herself, or she would hang herself with incriminating evidence. With the matchmakers on red alert, now was not the time to admit that, despite his lack of manners, Pace Neanderthal Gentry was about the hunkiest hunk she’d ever seen. Even if that did sound childish and immature, it was the truth.

A thin, glowing line marked the horizon as they raced the hundred yards down the gravel road and around the corner to the cattle pens. She realized she’d been sleeping like a rock earlier because she hadn’t heard any trucks passing by her house, and there had obviously been a parade of them.

There were cowboys milling around all over the place as Lacy guided the big car over every rut she could find. Grinning mischievously, she watched Sheri fight to keep her coffee in her cup.

Sheri chuckled. “Like I said earlier, I’m going to get you back for this. You know that, don’t you?”

“Wouldn’t be fun if you didn’t. At least you’re looking a little perkier.”

“Thanks to the coffee, I might make it,” Sheri said as the car came to a jolting halt.

“Hey, Sheri,” several cowboys shouted in greeting as she slammed the car door shut.

“Mornin’, boys,” she called while waving, always happy to acknowledge a good-natured cowboy, even if the posse had practically put a Husband Wanted poster out on her behalf.

“How many horses are coming?” she asked, her gaze snagging on the one cowboy who might be a hunk, but could never in a million years be classified as a good-natured anything. He was standing beside the wooden corral talking to Clint. Grudgingly, Sheri admired them. Together they made a formidable picture of pure strength and manliness. Both were well over six feet, lean at the hips, wide at the shoulders. Extraordinarily handsome. But it was Pace her eyes fixed on, noting his steely gaze following her as she moved to stand beside Lacy. Sheri had to admit, she hadn’t ever seen a better-looking man. But there was more to a good man than his looks, and this one—well, something was missing in the good-man category. That was for sure.

This morning he had on jeans and shorter chaps that came just below the knees with a wide band of fringe and silver conchos running up the sides. Oddly, Sheri thought they were cute. They added a little flash to his otherwise rugged outfit. Feeling defiant, she lifted her hand and wiggled her fingers at him. He might have dismissed her the day before, but he had another think coming if he thought slamming a door on her meant she was done.

He tilted his head, acknowledging her wave, but that was it. There was no smile. Not that she’d expected one, but there was not even a hint of a change in Pace’s facial expression. What was his problem? The man was certainly peculiar.

“Clint said about twelve mustangs,” Lacy was saying. “You can only adopt four mustangs a year but Clint and Pace got special permission from the Bureau of Land Management to get a few extra, though they won’t get papers on all of them this year. The government is very protective of the mustangs. Pace has plenty of horses to train. People are lining up waiting on him to work with their horses because he’s so good. Sheri, are you listening to me?”

“Ah—yes, sure.” She yanked her gaze away from Pace, hoping Lacy hadn’t noticed her staring at him. Then she wondered why she cared. She could stare if she wanted to.

The distinct sound of an 18-wheeler could be heard growling around the bend. Lacy, along with everyone else, turned toward the sound.

“Speaking of Pace, what’s this guy’s full story?” Sheri asked. Her gaze skipped back to the cowboy who was now watching the truck’s approach. Despite his bad manners there was no denying that he intrigued her. When she looked back toward the truck, she met Lacy’s gaze. Drat, she’d been caught. The last thing she needed was Lacy getting any ideas. But Lacy wasn’t smiling. Instead, a thoughtful gleam shone in her eyes.

“I don’t really know much,” Lacy said, shaking off her serious look, “except what I already told you. How he lived in that cabin in Idaho alone for months is a mystery to me. I’d climb the walls. Can you imagine—no telephone, or water? He washes his clothes in the nearby river. The ice-encrusted river. He’s really like a mountain man. But we’re talking huge ranches here. Like five hundred square miles or more, not acres. Miles of barren, lonesome land. That’s why he lived in the little shack like that. They need men spread out watching over smaller sections over the winters. Even in the summers he doesn’t see much more than a handful of people. Not me, I couldn’t handle that. I’ve got to talk to people.”