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that a gnat is liable to send him over the paddock fence."
    Lacey's bottom lip pouted stubbornly. "I just thought his black coat would go well with my outfit."
    Slade removed his hat and raked his hair back. Placing it back on his head, he adjusted the brim low on his brow again. How could anyone be so damn adorable, he thought.
    "Yeah, well," he cleared his throat, while simultaneously holding back a smile. "Why don't we just put you on ol' Irish, there." He pointed to a small chestnut mare in the nearby box stall. "And we'll try and overlook the clash of colors."
    Lacey walked over to give the horse a soft pat on the forehead. "I suppose she'll do. She has the most beautiful eyelashes."
    Moving to stand beside her, Slade pushed the forelock off the horse's face. "Imagine that, Irish. All this time you thought the stallions were after your perky little rump, and it was really those long lashes that had 'em going."
    Blushing, Lacey peered up at him through her own long lashes. "'Tis a bit close in here. I'll wait outside while you get her ready."
    "Hold on a minute, Miss Jarrell. If you're riding, then you'll have to ready your own mount." He snatched up a bucket of grooming tools, and plunked them down at her feet.
    She placed her hands on her hips and stared down at the various brushes and picks. Intending to make his getaway, he retrieved his saddle and grabbed a bridle and slung it over his shoulder. He'd only made it halfway to the door when she spoke.
    "Are you mad? I haven't a clue what to do with these things."
    "Brush her coat. I'm sure you know how to use a brush. Comb her mane and tail. That little pick there is to clean out her hooves." He pointed to the sidesaddle resting on the wooden rack jutting from the wall. "You'll have to use that one. It's the only one made for a skirt. Unless, you plan to hike your skirt up to your waist. By the way, it goes on the horse's back." He was actually amazed to find his nasty tone did not provoke her to anger. Instead, she just stood there, blinking her big golden eyes at him. "And watch she doesn't step on you while you do it all," he added as he exited the barn.
    He felt a bit guilty for leaving her alone, but that was easy to shake off, considering Irish was just a big ol' dog in a horse suit. Actually, he was rather hoping to teach the little baggage a lesson.
    After an hour riding in circles in the near fields, his eyes straying frequently to the barn doors, he could no longer pretend that he wasn't worried. A vision of her trying to hoist the heavy saddle was enough to send him back at a gallop.
    # # #
    Lacey, attempting to fasten the girth-strap for what seemed the hundredth time, looked up at the sound of the barn door creaking open. He was heading straight for her. Then he stopped a mere pace away, staring at her as he had earlier. This morning, his presence had unsettled her too such a degree, she had actually blathered on about her outfit. As if, she truly cared, whether the horse matched her clothes or not. She hated to admit it, but the only reason she wanted to ride Ransom was to impress him. To let him know she was up to the challenge of ranch life. Instead, she'd come off as a shallow half-wit. No doubt, he'd had a good, hearty laugh about her.
    She looked helplessly to the hay bundle where she'd draped her jacket. She would have to sidle past him to get it. Pretending she was dressed in something other than her rather revealing black-velvet bodice with the insignificant cap-sleeves, she pointed at the saddle sitting at a tilt on the horse. "Stubborn girl. Every time I attempt to tighten the belt, she takes a deep breath. When she blows it out, of course, the thing is too loose."
    He was staring at her as though he'd never seen a woman in this state of undress. But, surely, a man of his character spent a fair amount of time in saloons. "If you'd be kind enough to hand me my hat and jacket."
    His eyes gave a quick glance in the direction she pointed and then