Wrangling a leatherneck takes skill . . . and patience.
Subject: Mateo Lopez, USMC retired
Current Status: Medical discharge, recovering
Mission: Rebuild his life following medical discharge from the Marines after suffering a spinal injury. Care for and train his beloved horses once again.
Obstacle: Claire Windsor. The London-born trainer comes to the ranch, keen on beginning a training program designed to turn its horses into therapy animals. The last thing Mateo wants is a change in routine or a beautiful, talented woman with a sexy accent telling him what to do. But avoiding her may prove impossible, especially when she stands between him and the work he loves.
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As You Were, Cowboy
In the meanwhile, don't miss Heather's most recent release, Securing Arizona, a part of Susan Stoker's Special Forces: Operation Alpha Kindle World!
As You Were, Cowboy
In the meanwhile, don't miss Heather's most recent release, Securing Arizona, a part of Susan Stoker's Special Forces: Operation Alpha Kindle World!
Excerpt
of As You Were Cowboy by Heather Long:
Anger
filled Mateo Lopez like hot shrapnel bursting with every word the gorgeous
blonde issued in her cultured British accent. White-hot lances of pain radiated
along his spine. All he’d done was move a few damn bales of hay, and it had
left him sweating and gasping for breath. Accepting his limitations and giving
in to weakness were not in his wheelhouse, although he’d elected to make the
walk to his truck for the prescription the doctor insisted he fill. If he could
avoid taking the pain pills he would. Now her.
“I beg
your pardon,” she said, and he could practically feel the stiffness of her
tone, as though a riding crop were delivering a fresh welt of pain across his
back. “Mr. Wilks?”
“I’m
not Tanner,” Mateo admitted. As grating as her pronouncement had been, his
mother would tear a strip off his hide if he didn’t dispel the
misunderstanding. “I’m Mateo Lopez, ranch manager.” Technically, he was the
assistant ranch manager to his father. They split the ranch tasks between them.
“I handle the trainers as well.”
He was
the trainer.
The
horses were his.
This .
. . woman was not going to just walk in and take over like she owned the place.
“Please
accept my apologies, Mr. Lopez. I thought you were Mr. Wilks.” Unease left her
manner stilted, and a tiny frown line appeared between her cornflower-blue eyes,
which gleamed with intensity even in the barn’s shade. Sugar nickered again and
stomped her feet, disturbed by their nearness and likely offended by the lack
of attention. The filly was lovely, and a diva in her awareness of it.
With a
light cough to clear her throat, she recaptured his attention and continued,
“If you could point me in Tanner’s direction, then I’ll excuse myself.”
“I have
no problems excusing you, but the ranch is private property and, as I already
stated, I oversee all the horses here. We don’t need a new trainer.” It went
against the grain on every level. A spasm worked its way along his spine, and
he gritted his teeth. Yes, Tanner had mentioned the potential plan—keyword potential. He hadn’t mentioned actually
hiring anyone. Mateo attributed it to keeping the Colonel focused on his
recovery. That was why, right?
“Mr.
Lopez, I’m not sure what I’ve done to offend you, but my contract is with Mr. Wilks.” The stress of the word contract couldn’t be missed, nor could
the way her chin lifted and her shoulders went back. Even her nose seemed a
little higher, as though she physically held herself back from fighting with
him.
“Lady,
I don’t know what you think is going to happen, but no trainers touch these
horses without my approval.” The horses were everything to him. There was no
way Tanner was going to usurp his work to bring a Brit.
“I know
exactly what is going to happen. I left a very lucrative and successful
training program in Stafford to travel several thousand miles to make a dream
come true. I apologize if I’ve offended you, but until Mr. Wilks decides to buy
out my contract, I’m not going anywhere.” Stubborn defiance flashed in those
willful eyes. Red flushed her cream complexion, which drew his attention to the
scatter of freckles across her nose and upper cheeks. They contrasted against
her sharp look, and he couldn’t look away.
“What
you left or didn’t leave is not my concern,” he said through his teeth. The
spasm in his back was continuing to lash at his spine like blazing hot barbed
wire. The need to collapse weighed on him, but he refused to give in. Not when
he faced an opponent in better physical condition than he. Even if she was
overdressed for the heat. To give in to weakness in front of her would be to
concede that he couldn’t do his job.
Despite
the rigidity of her posture, she couldn’t disguise the concern flickering in
her eyes. The last thing he wanted was her sympathy. Not when she stood there
with clenched fists. “I’ll leave you to whatever it is you’re doing and seek Tanner
out myself.”
Though
she turned on her heel and began walking away, Mateo couldn’t just let Claire
leave.
“You
have no business wandering around the ranch by yourself.” Not dressed like she
was—she’d get heatstroke. “The ranch covers several hundred acres, and that
doesn’t include the outer pastures.”
Halting,
she still held her hands clenched tight as she turned to face him. “Mr. Lopez,
was it?”
A
shiver of humor evaded the pain storming his system. There was something about
the way she framed his name in her perfectly sensible, clipped accent. Melodic
and insulting all at once.
“You
can call me Mateo.” He managed a smile, though it required him to clench his
teeth.
“I’d
prefer to keep the address formal in order to stay professional.” The brilliant
blue of her eyes turned positively frosty. “That being said, Mr. Lopez, I spoke
to a Maria. She directed me to the house, and I chose to stop at the barn on my
way there. My mistake. I won’t continue to trouble you.”
The
fingers of agony digging into his spine began to twist, and Mateo braced a hand
against the door to the stall. White-knuckling, he managed to stay on his feet.
A man appeared in the entry to the barn, backlit by the late-day sun, the hat
on his head giving away his identity.
“Miss
Windsor,” Tanner called as he strode down the aisle. “Maria told me you were
here. Was on the way to the house when I saw the car outside.”
Shit. Mateo wanted to curse.
Bad enough the foreigner was here. His best friend confirming her story,
though—that made it all the worse.
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