Mustang Annie by Rachelle Morgan Read Free Book Online Page A

wild?”
    Brett grinned at her astuteness, both of his character and his means of acquiring the Durham spread. “Aces—three of a kind. Hence, the Triple Ace.”
    â€œWhere was the fourth one, up your sleeve?”
    Brett chuckled. “Darlin’, the only thing up my sleeve that night was the hand of a comely Frenchwoman—”
    â€œSpare me the details.”
    â€œCan I help it if women find me irresistible?”
    â€œIt’s a wonder you can sit upright, with the weight of your conceit.”
    He let out a full-bellied laugh. “To tell the truth, Durham got off easy. This place nowhere near covered his bet. He was in debt up to his eyeballs. Took almost everything I had just to get this place in decent shape.”
    â€œSo you won not only his land, but his hired hands as well.”
    â€œIn a manner of speaking. Some came with the deal, some came later. It seemed foolish to replace the men here when they already knew their business.”
    â€œYou made a good decision. Wade Henry could ramrod a horse ranch blind. I’d ride shotgun with him any day.”
    At the time Brett had just thought it a convenient decision, but Annie’s backhanded compliment warmed his insides. He couldn’t remember the last time his actions had met with approval, and he savored it like a kid with a piece of horehound candy. “If you’d known he worked for me, would it have made any difference?”
    She shrugged. “Probably not.”
    The answer didn’t surprise him. Annie struck him as the kind of woman who wouldn’t let personal ties influence her decision. “Then what did change your mind?”
    Long seconds passed before she answered. “Unfinished business.”
    The remark hung in the air long after she rode ahead. Usually by the end of a conversation with a woman, Brett knew everything from her favorite color to the size of her corset. Yet Annie left him more puzzled than the day he’d met her. She had a way of answering a question without revealing a thing, and he wondered if it came naturally or if it took a concentrated effort.
    They reached the southern border just after dusk. After they unsaddled and brushed down the horses, the men went about setting up camp. Dogie scoured the ground for whatever fuel he could scrounge up, Henry brought out the makings for coffee and supper, Flap Jack fetched water, and Emilio examined the tack.
    None of them required Annie’s help, so she found herself a spot beneath a mesquite tree, cleared the ground of pods and thorns, then sat on her rolled-out bedding and unraveled her hair.
    Brett knew he should be doing something more productive than standing by the horses, gaping at her, but for the life of him he couldn’t think of what. Hypnotized, he could do nothing more than watch as the flaxen ropes came apart beneath her nimble fingers. He’d imagined what she’d look like with her hair unbound, but imagination came nowhere near the actual sight of glossy strands falling over her shoulder and over one breast in waist long waves.
    When she brought out a brush from her pack, Brett thought for sure he’d died and gone to heaven. Each stroke was a no-nonsense swipe that nonetheless grabbed him by the vitals. How could so ordinary and artless a task send all the blood in his body shooting straight to his groin? His hands begged to touch her hair, to draw the strands through his fingers and carry them to his nose so he could inhale the Eden of her scent. The outside glossy and tangle-free, she flipped the mass over her head and started the process all over again.
    Brett closed his eyes and groaned.
    A forceful nudge to his arm knocked him off balance. Brett regained his footing, and found Fortune staring at him, vexed at being ignored.
    Brett cursed and strode away from camp. It was going to be a helluva long trip.

Chapter 5
    T he gentle strum of Emilio’s guitar flowed around Annie like a warm