The Valentine Two-Step

Just what she needed, a witness to her humiliation. From her ignominious position on the ground, she took a moment to force air into her lungs. When she could breathe again, she glanced toward the direction of the voice. Her gaze landed first on a pair of well-worn boots just outside the fence, then traveled up a mile-long length of blue jeans to a tooled silver buckle with the swirled insignia of the NCHA—National Cutting Horse Association.

She knew that buckle.

She’d seen it a day earlier on none other than the lean hips of her nemesis. Sure enough. Matt Harte stood there just on the other side of the pen—broad shoulders, blue eyes, wavy dark hair and all.

She closed her eyes tightly, wishing the mud would open up underneath her and suck her down. Of all the people in the world who might have been here to watch her get knocked to her butt, why did it have to be him?

Chapter 3

Matt let himself into the pen, careful to keep a safe distance between his own rear end and Jeb Thacker’s notoriously lousy-tempered goat, who had retreated to the other side of the pen.

“Here, let me help you.” He reached a hand down to the city vet, still sprawled in the mud.

“I can do it,” she muttered. Instead of taking his hand, she climbed gingerly to her feet by herself, then surreptitiously rubbed a hand against her seat.

Matt cleared his throat. “You okay?”

“I’ve had better mornings, but I’ll live.”

“You hit the ground pretty hard. You sure nothing’s busted?”

“I don’t think so. Just bruised. Especially my pride,” she said wryly. She paused for a minute, then smiled reluctantly. “I imagine it looked pretty funny watching me get tackled by a goat.”

She must not take herself too seriously if she could laugh about what had just happened. He found himself liking her for it. He gazed at her, at the way her red hair had slipped from its braid thingy and the little smudge of dirt on her cheek. Her eyes sparkled with laughter, and she was just about the prettiest thing he’d seen in a long time.

When he said nothing, a blush spread over her cheeks and she reached a hand to tuck her stray hair back. “Did you need something, Mr. Harte?”

He was staring at her, he realized, like some hayseed who’d never seen a pretty girl before. He flushed, astounded at himself, at this completely unexpected surge of attraction. “You might as well call me Matt, especially since it looks like we’ll be working on this stupid school thing together.”

Her big green eyes that always made him think of new aspen leaves just uncurling in springtime widened even more. “You’re going to do it?”

“I said so, didn’t I?” he muttered.

She grinned. “And you sound so enthusiastic about it.”

“You want enthusiasm, you’ll have to find somebody else to help you.”

“What made you change your mind?”

He didn’t know how to answer that, and besides, it wasn’t any of her business. He said he’d do it, didn’t he? What more did she need? But somehow the sharp retort he started to make changed into something else.

“Miz McKenzie’s right,” he finally said. “Lucy’s done better in school this year than she ever has. She never would have wanted to organize something like this last year. I don’t want to ruin the improvement she’s made. Besides, she usually doesn’t ask for much. It’s a small price to pay if it’s going to make her happy.”

Ellie Webster cocked her head and looked at him like she’d just encountered a kind of animal she’d never seen before.

“What?” he asked, annoyed at himself for feeling so defensive.

“Nothing. You’re just full of surprises, Mr. Harte.”

“Matt,” he muttered. “I said you should call me Matt.”

“Matt.” She smiled suddenly, the most genuine smile she’d ever given him. He stared at it, at her, feeling like he’d just spent a few hours out in the hard sun without his hat.

“Is that why you stopped?” she asked. “To tell me you decided to help with the carnival?”

He shrugged and ordered his heartbeat to behave itself. “I had to drop by the post office next door anyway. I thought maybe if you had a second this morning, we could get a cup of coffee over at the diner and come up with a game plan. At least figure out where to start.”

Again, she looked surprised, but she nodded. “That’s a good idea. But if you’re just looking for coffee, SueAnn makes the best cup this side of the Rockies. We can talk in my office.”

“That would be fine. I’ve already had breakfast. You, ah, need to get cleaned up or anything?”

She glanced down at her muddy jeans, then at the goat with a grimace. “Can you wait ten minutes? Since I’m already muddy, I might as well take a look at Cleo now.”

He thought of the million-and-one things he had to do at the ranch after he ran to the parts store in Idaho Falls—the buyers he had coming in later in the afternoon, the three horses waiting for the farrier, the inevitable paperwork always confronting him.

He should just take a rain check, but for some reason that completely baffled him, he nodded. “Sure, I can wait.” His next question surprised him even more. “Need me to give you a hand?”

She smiled again, that sweet, friendly smile. “That would be great. I’m afraid Cleo isn’t too crazy about her visit to the vet.”

The next fifteen minutes were a real education. With his help, Ellie miraculously finessed the ornery goat into holding still long enough for an exam. She murmured soft words—nonsense, really—while her hands moved gently and carefully over the now docile goat.

“Okay, you can let go now,” she finally said. He obeyed, and the goat ambled away from them.

“What’s the verdict?” he asked.

She looked up from scribbling some notes on a chart. “Just as I suspected. Mastitis. She has a plugged milk duct. I’ll run a culture to be sure, but I think a round of antibiotics ought to take care of her.”

“Just like a cow, huh?”

“Just like. Same plumbing involved.”

“Cleo’s a hell of a lot uglier than any of my ladies.”

She grinned at him again. “Beauty’s in the eye of the beholder, Harte. I imagine Jeb Thacker wouldn’t agree. Anyway, thanks for your help.”

She led the way inside the small building where she worked. While she went in the back to change her clothes, he shot the breeze with SueAnn, who went to high school with him and whose husband ran the local nursery in town.

In a surprisingly short time, Ellie returned wearing a pair of surgical scrubs. He figured she probably was supposed to look cool and professional in the scrubs, but instead they made her look not much older than one of Lucy’s friends on her way to a sleepover, especially with her auburn hair pulled back in that ponytail.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said, sounding a little out of breath.

“No problem.”

SueAnn hopped up and poured a cup of coffee for Ellie. “Here you go, sugar.”

“Thanks. We’ll be in my office if you need me.”

“Take your time.”