Handful of Sky by Tory Cates Read Free Book Online Page A

and she had to do it before Jake McIver did.
    “Miss Larkin?”
    Flustered with guilt that someone from the Circle M had caught her in the middle of her scheming, she whirled toward the voice in the darkness. “Yes?” All she could make out was a tall shadow topped by a cowboy hat.
    “Welcome to the Circle M. My grandfather and I have been waiting for you.”
    Shallie extended her hand. It was an automatic response she had adopted when meeting anyone connected with rodeo. Anyone male. She had found that a firm, no-nonsense handshake was a good method for convincing would-be Romeos that she had no intentions of ever mixing business and pleasure. She was surprised by the feelof his hand. An uneasy prickling that she couldn’t stop to analyze caused her to shiver. The hand that grasped her own was rough, obviously well-acquainted with hard work, and large enough to make her own seem frail and smooth in comparison. Shallie recorded all these impressions in less than the blink of an eye. As her thumb slipped over the back of his hand, she was jolted by one more discovery: a lump of scar tissue at the base of the middle finger. She ripped her hand from his, thoroughly disconcerted to be standing in front of the man she had been dreaming of such a short time before.
    “So, you remember your old riding student?”
    How could she have failed to recognize that voice? Shallie wondered, then realized that the uneasiness she’d experienced upon first hearing it had been a warning signal. One she shouldn’t have ignored.
    “I told you we’d meet again.” It was clear from his tone that he was not someone accustomed to having his wishes denied. “I’m sorry you had to spend fourteen hours in a semi, but that was the only way I could arrange it.”
    “You arranged it?”
    “Sure. Don’t you think we have dogging steers down here in Texas? I had to convince my grandfather that Double L’s were really something special to get him to call your uncle.”
    Shallie was flabbergasted. First, to have this phantomfigure materialize as if out of her dreams, then to learn not only that he was Jake McIver’s grandson, but that he had actually maneuvered their reunion.
    “Just what made you so sure I’d come?” she challenged him with considerably more starch in her voice than she felt at that wobbly moment.
    “Well, I was pretty sure you wouldn’t come if I called myself. That’s why I got Jake to get in touch with your uncle, and what contractor worth his, or her,” he added with elaborate emphasis, “salt would pass up the chance to meet Mr. Rodeo himself?”
    “I guess that makes me pretty predictable, but at least I’m worth my salt,” Shallie retorted, remembering his lesson about being the first to laugh at yourself.
    His laughter at her self-mocking comment rolled deep and gentle in the darkness. “Seems you don’t take yourself quite as seriously when you’re away from a rodeo arena.”
    Shallie took his amusement as a compliment, responding to his warm friendliness. “I suppose I’m learning to do what you advised me to, laugh at myself.”
    His face above hers was shadowed, his expression unreadable. Her own was clearly visible, upturned to the moonlight. She turned away from him, feeling too exposed, too vulnerable. She looked back at the horses, eager to turn the conversation away from herself. She needed a moment to collect her emotions.
    “Are you planning to have an auction?”
    “Early next week. Soon as we pick out any horses worth keeping. Most of them are pretty sorry.” He took a place beside Shallie. His nearness triggered those same baffling sensations she’d first experienced when helping him to rig up at the rodeo. She had to concentrate to come up with a halfway intelligent remark.
    “Where did they all come from?” she asked, already knowing the answer as well as any contractor.
    “Everywhere. Every rancher and farmer between here and Butte, Montana, who buys his kid a horse, then finds