Wild About the Wrangler by Vicki Lewis Thompson Read Free Book Online

sketching something. It makes me take a closer look. I’m guilty of seeing things in a superficial way.”
    She shrugged. “We all do that sometimes.”
    â€œI’ll bet you don’t do it much. These are great.” He studied the two sketches she’d given him. The first one of him stroking Jasper’s nose made him smile, but the second one of Jasper by himself peering over the stall door tugged at his heart.
    She’d captured Jasper’s eager interest in whatever the humans were doing. Not every horse cared, but Jasper watched the people in his life as if they were a constant source of entertainment for him. Anastasia had seen that and put it on paper. What a gift she had.
    But looking at the sketches made him think of one more step she should probably take while she was here and feeling reasonably mellow. “Before you leave, why not pet him a little bit?”
    â€œPet him?” The anxiety in her voice was obvious as she gave the horse a nervous glance. “Do I have to?”
    â€œNo, but he’d like it if you did. Think about this from his perspective. He loves being rubbed and scratched, so you’d be doing him a big favor.”
    She gazed at the horse. “Is that right, Jasper? Are you looking for a little scratch?”
    Jasper bobbed his head, which was probably only a reflex that had nothing to do with nodding. But his timing was perfect.
    Anastasia turned to Mac with a wide smile. “Did you see that? He does!”
    â€œThen go right ahead.” He wasn’t about to disabuse her of the notion. She was once a girl who’d believed in fairies and elves. She still might have some of those fantasies, and if he could add a magical horse, why not? Besides, Jasper was a really smart animal. Somebody might have taught him to nod when asked a question.
    â€œWould you please hold my bag?” She held it toward him.
    â€œYou bet.” The canvas bag was old and almost colorless from age and much use. She’d probably had it for years, maybe since high school. Whenever he pictured Anastasia, and he did quite often, she was carrying this bag over her shoulder or resting it beside her chair while she worked. He handled it with care.
    Moving slowly and cautiously, she approached the stall. “I’ve never done this before, Jasper,” she murmured. “I don’t know much about horses in general and you in particular, but if you want a little scratch, then you deserve one for being such a good boy and a cooperative subject.”
    Mac swallowed a chuckle. Jasper hadn’t been given much choice. He was stuck in that stall. But he was a friendly horse, which was why Mac had chosen him for the portrait session.
    She lifted a hand toward the horse and then hesitated. “Mac, where do I start?”
    â€œYou could stroke his nose, first. He likes that, too.”
    â€œPromise he won’t bite me.”
    â€œHe won’t bite you. But if you’re worried about it, keep your fingers together so they don’t look like carrots.”
    â€œCarrots?” She pulled her hand away. “He could mistake my fingers for carrots? I’m not doing this. I need my fingers. My fingers are my life.”
    â€œHere.” He stepped forward and took her hand. “We’ll do it together.”
    â€œWe could put this off, you know.” But she allowed him to guide her to Jasper’s forehead while his hand protectively covered her precious fingers.
    Good old Jasper stood quietly as Mac moved her hand slowly down his nose. Then he repeated the motion.
    â€œHe’s very soft,” she murmured.
    â€œYeah.” But she was even softer and she smelled great, like . . . cookies baking. “Now we’ll scratch his neck.” He moved her hand under Jasper’s mane.
    â€œOkay, I think I have this.” Her voice quavered a little.
    â€œYou sure?”
    â€œYep. He’d have to be some kind of