Luck was with her. Deputy Rio Vasquez, the officer who’d arrested Andrew the night before, was just coming on duty. Her cousin, Kyle McCabe, was also on shift.
The two deputies shared the same outlook. “Dylan was right to call us and take a hard line,” Rio said.
Kyle nodded. “I know it seems like it isn’t that big a deal. But it is. Pranks like this are gateway crimes. The kids don’t see it that way, of course. They think they’re just messing around and accepting dares and having fun.” He sighed heavily. “But things have a way of getting out of control—fast—with kids this age and before you know it, someone is badly hurt. Or there’s a fatal car accident. And then lives are really turned upside down.”
“Dylan knows this better than anyone,” Rio added.
Emily did a double take. “What do you mean?” she asked.
Rio and Kyle exchanged wary looks.
Whatever they knew, Emily realized in disappointment, they weren’t going to share.
“The point is,” Rio continued, sidestepping her question completely, “Dylan takes the situation very seriously. And that’s good. The worst thing any of you could have done is used your influence with the district attorney to try to have the whole matter dropped, before any real consequences were felt.”
Dylan had said as much, but somehow it helped hearing the same thing from two such experienced lawmen.
Emily thanked them both, and Kyle walked her outside. Because he was her cousin, and they’d grown up together, he knew her pretty well. “So does this mean it’s over with you and Dylan Reeves?” he asked curiously.
Emily could confide in Kyle the way she couldn’t confide in her brothers. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I could date anyone who is as intractable as he is, for very long.” Maybe it would be best to cut her losses while the potential damage to her heart was still small.
“So it’s not like the two of you are in love or anything?” Kyle teased.
Emily blushed. “Heavens, no!”
“You were just kissing him on the green, the other night....”
“You saw that?”
“Emily, everyone saw that. It looked pretty hot.”
It had been hot. Their tumble into bed the evening before, hotter still. But sex wasn’t everything. Even between friends. Emily bit her lip. “I’m just not sure we’re compatible in the ways that count.”
Kyle chuckled. “You mean he’s not makeover material.”
“I haven’t tried to make him over.” Not like she had in the past. She hadn’t gone clothes shopping with him, helped decorate his place or suggested a way to further his career aspirations—like she had with the previous guys she had dated....
Clearly not seeing the difference in her approach to this male-female relationship, Kyle lifted a skeptical brow. “Well, that’s good. Because unlike your previous boyfriends—who, by the way, were all way too malleable for their own good—Dylan is a man who operates on the strength of his convictions. And I don’t see that changing. Not for you. Not for anyone.”
* * *
EMILY HAD PROMISED herself she would not get enmeshed in any more dead-end romances. Which left her with only one choice.
“I think we should be friends,” she told Dylan, when she showed up at his ranch that afternoon.
“I thought we already were. Or at least were on the way to becoming good friends.”
“What I mean is,” Emily explained, aware her voice sounded a little rusty, and her emotions felt all out of whack, too, “I don’t think we should have sex again.”
Their glances locked and they shared another moment of tingling awareness. Finally, Dylan said, “It was that bad, hmm?”
Emily told herself not to read anything into the concern in his eyes. “You know it wasn’t,” she murmured, blushing. The truth was she had climaxed like crazy under his masterful touch. “But sex complicates things. I don’t need additional complications right now. My life is chaotic enough.”
Dylan rocked back on his heels. He tore off his leather work gloves and braced his hands on his hips. “Okay.”
Emily tore her gaze from his rock-solid chest and abs. She looked into his eyes, a little surprised he hadn’t argued with her. She cleared her throat. “You’re fine with this?”
The tension between Dylan’s shoulder blades eased. “You just told me no. I respect that, and I will honor that.” His gaze gentling all the more, he flashed her a crooked smile meant to conciliate. He stepped closer and lifted a hand to her cheek, briefly touching the side of her face. “That doesn’t mean I still don’t want to have sex with you. So,” he said, and slanted her a telling look, “if you change your mind and decide you would like to have sex with me again, it’s up to you to let me know.”
Emily wasn’t used to guys being this reasonable. Aware her face was still tingling from his brief, sensual touch, she drew a deep breath. “Okay, then.”
“Okay.” Another pause. He scanned her Western-wear-clad form. “Did you want to help with the mustangs?” he asked finally, as cheerful as ever when it came to his work.
Emily smiled, glad her efforts to redirect their relationship had worked out so well. “I would love to.”
Dylan turned and headed for the training area. “Salt and Pepper have already been put through their paces today.”
Falling into step beside him, Emily teased, “Saving the best for last?”
Dylan winked. “I figured you would show up, and since Ginger clearly is your favorite...” He walked into the round pen, motioning for Emily to join him.
This time, when he shut the gate, Ginger came right over to him. Everywhere Dylan went, the mustang followed. He petted her nose, her mane, her neck. Ran a hand under her abdomen, across her flanks and down her legs. The beautiful mare seemed to not just tolerate his handling of her, but welcome it.
A phenomenon Emily understood all too well...
“I noticed you’re not disagreeing with my assessment that you’ve been playing favorites with the herd,” Dylan said.
Flushing with guilt, Emily shrugged. “What can I say? Ginger’s complicated and challenging. I’m trying to understand her.”
Dylan nodded his agreement, looking as if that was a conundrum he understood all too well. “The question is, will she allow us to tame her?”
“What do you mean?” Emily watched rancher and horse interact with teamlike proficiency. “It’s been less than a week and Ginger is already following you around the pen, going wherever you go....”
“You’re right, she is watching my every move. Unfortunately, her curiosity is more than a demonstration of interest—it’s an expression of fear.” He met her eyes. “A horse doesn’t bother to investigate something that it is not afraid of. A horse isn’t curious unless it harbors some uncertainty. And that underlying fear can make a horse unpredictable.”
Emily watched Dylan pick up one hoof. Ginger bucked slightly and wrested her leg from his light, testing grasp.
Dylan went back to stroking Ginger all over. When she was calm, he tried again, picking up her foot. Again, she resisted but he didn’t back down.
And on and on it went, until at last Ginger gave in and let Dylan touch and rub and inspect all four feet without complaint.
“Now you try,” Dylan said, while holding on to the lightweight training halter on Ginger’s head.
Emily—whose