Chapter 9

But I see a swish of dress and quickly duck back into the stall. Miss Lucille’s low heels make no sound on the dry ground, but the buckles creak a little as she approaches, and there’s no denying the crinkling sound of her petticoats in the still, cool darkness of the stable. The only lantern hangs above the stall I’m in, damn it, a beacon drawing her to me like a moth to a flame.

I stand to extinguish the candle inside but it’s too late. She’s already leaning on the stall door, smiling prettily at me.

“Afternoon, Mr. Nat,” she says.

I touch my head and remember my hat’s hanging on a nail with the reins behind me. “Miss Lucille,” I mumble. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

“It’s my daddy’s stable,” she points out. “I do the accounting for the ranch so we can afford to pay hands like you to look after things. I’m pretty sure I can be anywhere on this property I want to be.”

I feel a dull blush heat my face. “I…I just meant it’s dirty, and you might soil your dress.”