in challenge. "I bet you'd like to be that someone, wouldn't you? Well, you just try it, Morgan Kincaid!"
Without warning, he reached up and grabbed her arm, yanking her off the horse's back. Patty fell against his hard chest, but he made no attempt to check her, letting her momentum take her where it would.
"You pint-sized little devil!" he growled as she recovered and pulled away from the burning contact. "Don't tempt me!"
"Why don't you take care of your stupid bucking horses and quit sticking your nose into things that are none of your concern!" she flashed angrily.
The sharply working muscles in his clenched jaw warned Patty of the tight curb he had on his temper. "I don't know whether it matters to you or not, but that stupid stunt of yours added ten years to your grandfather's age. The next time you decide to play the courageous Annie Oakley," his lip curled with sarcasm, "give a thought to him."
The flame of her anger flickered at his sobering observation, lessening her belligerent stance. Squaring her shoulders, she returned his steel-hard gaze.
"Grandpa knows I don't take unnecessary chances," Patty replied.
"But you do put my heart in my throat once in a while," her grandfather inserted, walking to Lodestar's head. "Now, if you two don't mind, I'd like to get these horses back to the stables. And that reporter of yours might be getting impatient, Morgan."
The broad chest rose and fell as Morgan took a deep, calming breath. "Carla wants to interview you," he told Patty, "and get some pictures of you with the horses."
"Carla?" Patty haughtily raised a brow. "On first names already? My, but you do work fast!"
His gaze narrowed on her for a split second before focusing on the two spectators at the arena gate. He waved at them to enter the arena while Patty walked to Landmark's head, using the time to smother the last of the anger. She managed to smile quite naturally when Morgan introduced her to Carla Nicholson, the feature writer, and the photographer Fred Kowalski.
"What beautiful animals," the woman reporter murmured. "Such a pure white, and so graceful and spirited." She flashed Patty a professional smile, leaving Patty with a terribly unsophisticated feeling. "I do hope their names match their beauty."
"The front pair are Liberty and Lodestar," Patty recited. "The middle ones are Legend and Legacy and the wheel horses are Landmark and Loyalty."
"Alliterative and imaginative names. That's a nice touch. Fred, get some photos of Miss King with the horses."
When the photographs were taken, her grandfather led the horses from the arena. Patty remained, patiently answering all the questions that had been put to her before at one time or another. Despite the way the attractive woman centered her attention on Patty, there was the sensation that she was attempting to impress Morgan that she was very good at her work.
"Considering how well trained your horses are, how do you feel toward the other horses in the rodeo, specifically the bucking horses?" Carla Nicholson inquired.
That question had never been asked Patty before, but she replied readily. "If you're asking if I have any favorites, the answer is yes," she smiled. "Red River."
The blonde leafed back through the pages of her notebook. "I believe Morgan mentioned that horse, didn't you?" she glanced quickly at him.
"Yes," he nodded. "He's been bucking horse of the year a few times. This will be his last season on the circuit."
"I remember." A smile warmer than any she had given Patty spread across the woman's face as she looked at Morgan. "You told me you were going to be retiring him this year. I wanted to look at some of your stock. Would you mind, Miss King, if we walked to the pens now?"
"Of course not," Patty answered.
She half expected the woman to fall into step beside Morgan, but he and the photographer led the way while Carla Nicholson continued her questions.
"I'm curious why this particular horse is your favorite, Miss King."
"He's
Without warning, he reached up and grabbed her arm, yanking her off the horse's back. Patty fell against his hard chest, but he made no attempt to check her, letting her momentum take her where it would.
"You pint-sized little devil!" he growled as she recovered and pulled away from the burning contact. "Don't tempt me!"
"Why don't you take care of your stupid bucking horses and quit sticking your nose into things that are none of your concern!" she flashed angrily.
The sharply working muscles in his clenched jaw warned Patty of the tight curb he had on his temper. "I don't know whether it matters to you or not, but that stupid stunt of yours added ten years to your grandfather's age. The next time you decide to play the courageous Annie Oakley," his lip curled with sarcasm, "give a thought to him."
The flame of her anger flickered at his sobering observation, lessening her belligerent stance. Squaring her shoulders, she returned his steel-hard gaze.
"Grandpa knows I don't take unnecessary chances," Patty replied.
"But you do put my heart in my throat once in a while," her grandfather inserted, walking to Lodestar's head. "Now, if you two don't mind, I'd like to get these horses back to the stables. And that reporter of yours might be getting impatient, Morgan."
The broad chest rose and fell as Morgan took a deep, calming breath. "Carla wants to interview you," he told Patty, "and get some pictures of you with the horses."
"Carla?" Patty haughtily raised a brow. "On first names already? My, but you do work fast!"
His gaze narrowed on her for a split second before focusing on the two spectators at the arena gate. He waved at them to enter the arena while Patty walked to Landmark's head, using the time to smother the last of the anger. She managed to smile quite naturally when Morgan introduced her to Carla Nicholson, the feature writer, and the photographer Fred Kowalski.
"What beautiful animals," the woman reporter murmured. "Such a pure white, and so graceful and spirited." She flashed Patty a professional smile, leaving Patty with a terribly unsophisticated feeling. "I do hope their names match their beauty."
"The front pair are Liberty and Lodestar," Patty recited. "The middle ones are Legend and Legacy and the wheel horses are Landmark and Loyalty."
"Alliterative and imaginative names. That's a nice touch. Fred, get some photos of Miss King with the horses."
When the photographs were taken, her grandfather led the horses from the arena. Patty remained, patiently answering all the questions that had been put to her before at one time or another. Despite the way the attractive woman centered her attention on Patty, there was the sensation that she was attempting to impress Morgan that she was very good at her work.
"Considering how well trained your horses are, how do you feel toward the other horses in the rodeo, specifically the bucking horses?" Carla Nicholson inquired.
That question had never been asked Patty before, but she replied readily. "If you're asking if I have any favorites, the answer is yes," she smiled. "Red River."
The blonde leafed back through the pages of her notebook. "I believe Morgan mentioned that horse, didn't you?" she glanced quickly at him.
"Yes," he nodded. "He's been bucking horse of the year a few times. This will be his last season on the circuit."
"I remember." A smile warmer than any she had given Patty spread across the woman's face as she looked at Morgan. "You told me you were going to be retiring him this year. I wanted to look at some of your stock. Would you mind, Miss King, if we walked to the pens now?"
"Of course not," Patty answered.
She half expected the woman to fall into step beside Morgan, but he and the photographer led the way while Carla Nicholson continued her questions.
"I'm curious why this particular horse is your favorite, Miss King."
"He's
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