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you off to?" The truck slowed to a stop while the cowboy driver stuck his head out of the window, the wide-brimmed white hat tilted at a cocky angle to reveal waving light brown hair.
    "Hi, Jack!" Patty returned gaily, her feet moving lightly over the ground as she moved toward the cab of the truck. "Just heading to the trailer to fix some coffee."
    "You have your horses all settled in, huh?" he asked rhetorically, and motioned toward the back end of the truck. "I'll be getting rid of my cargo of bulls pretty soon myself."
    "When did you start driving for Morgan?" She stood on the running board to raise herself to his level.
    "Since I finished out of the averages at the last four rodeos and discovered my pockets were empty," Jack Evans grinned.
    "That's what you get for looking at the girls in the short skirts sitting in the box seats instead of paying attention to the bucking horse you're riding," Patty teased.
    A boyish look filled with appealing charm stole across his face. "What I really need is a sweet, steady girl to keep me in line. Why don't you volunteer for the job, Princess? We'd make a great combination."
    "If I ever took your flirting seriously, Jack Evans, you would fly out of here as fast as a horse that's just backed into an electric fence," Patty replied lightly.
    "I wouldn't be too sure about that." He cocked his head to the side in denial as his gaze roamed over her face and the dimples in her cheeks. "The more I keep looking into your baby brown eyes and seeing that image of slippers and pipe, the more inviting it becomes."
    A pair of large strong hands nearly circled Patty's waist from behind as she was lifted from the running board and set on the ground, despite her startled outcry of protest.
    "Sorry to end your charming little scene, Skinny," Morgan Kincaid's voice carried no apologetic tone. "But I have to get those bulls unloaded and settled in."
    "You could have said so!" Patty retorted, recovering with angry swiftness from her surprise. "You didn't have to manhandle me!"
    The smile he gave her was cold. "You haven't been manhandled enough to know the meaning of the word."
    Then the steel gaze was turned to the cowboy already shifting the truck back into gear. "Get that truck up to the pens, Jack."
    "Right away, Morgan," Jack Evans agreed cheerfully, addressing a one-fingered salute to Patty. "See you later, Princess."  
    "What are you princess of?" There was a harsh, mocking look in the eyes Morgan turned to her. "Ice or snow?"  
    Since that night more than a week ago, Patty had deliberately ignored Morgan, responding with chilling civility only if he addressed her directly.
    "You'll have to ask Jack," she answered sarcastically.
    "I wondered how long it would take Jack to get around to giving you the rush," he mused thoughtfully. "He's made the rounds with nearly all the other girls on the circuit."
    "Look who's talking!" There was a haughty arch to her finely drawn brow.
    The action seemed to amuse him. "I'd love to stand here and argue with you, if only to keep in practice. Unfortunately I have other things to do." He took her by the shoulders and turned her around to face her trailer. With an insulting slap on her rump, he sent her on her way. "Get along home, Skinny. You'll have to sharpen your tongue on me another day."
    There had been a sting to his slap and Patty had to resist the desire to rub the smarting area. She spun around to fling a last poisonous dart at him and discovered his long strides had already taken him several yards away in the direction of the semi-trailer truck.
    With her target practically out of range, she pivoted sharply toward the trailer, her unvented temper adding haste to her footsteps. She cursed herself for letting Morgan get under her skin the way she did.
    It was that all-knowing attitude of his that irritated her, that and the way he laughed, at her. All she had to do was see him and the happiest song would hit a sour note.
    After the coffeepot was filled