Read Online This Hero for Hire by Cynthia Thomason - Free Book Online

who’s going to be my roomie.”
    â€œOkay, but that’s not the full story. And before we leave here this morning, I’m going to find out what it is.”
    She frowned at him. “Now you sound like a cop. I didn’t think you were on duty, Boone.”
    He brushed his hair off his forehead and settled his hat low on his brow. “I’m starting to think I’m never going to be off duty again as far as you’re concerned.”
    â€œFine. Obviously you think I have some secret plan, so when the chores are done, we’ll talk.”
    He smiled. “So I’m right? There is a secret plan?”
    â€œSomething like that. And you’ve got to know some time. But go on and do what you have to do.”
    The mystery deepened. Boone walked into the barn and relaxed when he heard the familiar and comforting sounds of his horses. Pawing sounds, recognition sounds, whinnies of hunger. He picked up a pitchfork and got to work. This was natural. This he understood. Even if he didn’t understand Susannah Rhodes. Yet.
    * * *
    W ITH   THE   EGG   basket draped over her arm, Susannah stood at the entrance to the barn and peered inside. The rain had stopped for good, and the sun was now hot and bright slanting through the cracks in the old wood siding. “Boone, are you in here?”
    â€œOut here,” he answered. “Come on through the barn and out to the paddock.”
    She walked down the wide aisle, her footsteps kicking up bits of dust and straw. The barn was old but tidy. She expected to wrinkle her nose at smells every bit as offensive as the odors that had clung to her yesterday. But no. She only sniffed leather tack, fresh straw and the fertile scent of grains. Boone had obviously finished cleaning the stalls and replaced the soiled hay with new.
    Coming into the open again, she saw Boone leaning against a weathered, wooden fence. One booted foot was on the bottom rail. His arms were crossed on the top. The felt cowboy hat remained low on his forehead. He turned when he heard her approach. “How’d you do with those eggs?” he asked.
    She showed him the basket. “I don’t know if this is a good number or not, but there was at least one egg in each nest.”
    He looked inside. “About average. I usually gather about three dozen.”
    â€œI can see why you donate so many. You certainly can’t eat this many eggs.”
    â€œI’ll make sure they get to the shelter later,” he said, staring back at his horses. “But why don’t you take a dozen back to the house? It’d be nice if I could count on you to fix bacon and eggs every morning.”
    She almost dropped the basket. “What?”
    He turned and gave her a grin that made her heart feel like it had somersaulted in her chest. “Oh, that’s right,” he said. “You’re not cooking for me. I remember now.”
    â€œVery funny. But even if I were cooking for you, which I’m not, I wouldn’t fix bacon. Even if you fixed it yourself, I’d be concerned for your cholesterol if you ate that breakfast every day.”
    He pushed the hat back on his forehead and turned his focus back to his horses. “Sweet.”
    She didn’t know if the word referred to her or his animals. She set the basket on the ground and leaned against the fence next to him. “Have you finished your chores?”
    â€œYep. I’m going to leave the horses out here for the rest of the day. Johnny Ray can bring them in when he feeds them.”
    She remembered the brown one, the bay, was his, and the palomino was his brother’s. Even though she’d grown up around horses, she didn’t really know much about them. But the word majestic came to mind. These two animals seemed proud and sturdy and strong. “What are their names?”
    â€œMine is Milo, and Jared’s is Paddy.” After a moment, he pushed away from the fence.