Five minutes later, Bobby Sue was there with his dinner. It was as hot and fresh and delicious as always.
Dylan downed it all with relish.
He was considering whether or not he had time to order dessert before the café closed at two, when Emily’s father walked in.
Dessert was going to have to wait, because he had business to conduct.
Dylan stood to greet the elder McCabe, as previously arranged. “Everything going okay so far?” he asked.
Shane nodded. “The horse trailers are due to arrive any minute.”
Emily walked out of the kitchen. Obviously surprised to see Dylan standing there with her dad, she looked from one to the other. “What’s going on?”
Shane greeted his daughter with a hug.
“The mustangs are coming in. We decided to meet up here because I thought you might like to take a peek at them before they’re taken to Dylan’s ranch.”
That swiftly, the light was back in Emily’s eyes. She smiled, her love of horses as apparent as ever. “I would. Thanks, Dad.” She hugged her father, then turned to Dylan awkwardly. She started forward, as if to hug him, too, then reconsidered and made do with a shy nod. “Dylan. This was nice of you.”
He cleared his throat. “No problem.”
Emily turned back to her dad. “Tell me about the horses,” she said eagerly.
“Two of them are less than twelve months old. They’re traveling two to a trailer, as per bureau of land management rules. The three-year-old mare is in a stock trailer by herself. She’s not yet fence-or halter-broken and may be a problem when it comes to unloading her.”
Dylan figured that was an understatement. “Any of them got names?” he asked Shane.
The older gentleman shook his head. “Just registration numbers. So feel free to name them whatever you see fit while you’re training them.”
Simone’s son, Andrew, walked in on the tail end of the conversation. A backpack slung over his shoulder, he appeared ready to assume his duties as part-time dishwasher and kitchen help. He looked at his mom, who’d come out of the restaurant kitchen. “Can I go see the horses? Maybe help the guys unload them?”
Simone shook her head. “It’s too dangerous, honey.”
Andrew’s expression fell. “But...”
“And you have homework to do, don’t you?” Simone insisted.
“Well, yeah,” the fifteen-year-old admitted with a reluctant shrug, “but...”
“You’ll have a chance to see the mustangs later,” Simone promised. “When they’re tamed.”
Andrew sulked. “That’ll be forever.”
“Knowing Dylan and the magic he works, probably not as long as you think.” Simone put her hand on her son’s shoulder. “Right now you and I need to help Bobbie Sue and Billy Ray get the kitchen closed for the day. See you later, everyone.” The two of them went back into the café kitchen.
Emily glanced out the window at the commotion outside. “Looks like they’re here,” she said, and smiled.
Shane turned back to Emily. “Do you have plans for this evening? Because if you don’t, your mother and I would like you to come over to the dance hall and have dinner with us. Maybe do a little brainstorming about how you’re going to weather this new competition?”
Emily bucked at the fatherly interference, even as she started for the door. “Thanks, Dad,” she said over one slender shoulder, “but I’ve got it covered.”
Shane persisted. “Just dinner, then?”
Emily pressed her lips together firmly. “I can’t.” Her glance shifted to Dylan’s face. She gave him the look that beseeched him to play along with her. “I’m going out to Dylan’s ranch, to help him get the mustangs settled.”
Dylan felt for Emily. It couldn’t be fun to be on the end of such constant meddling. But that didn’t mean he wanted to sacrifice his own professional standing with her father—one of the most respected horse-ranchers in the state—just so she did not have to do her parents’ bidding.
He tamped down his own irritation. “That’s okay, Emily,” Dylan said just as firmly, holding her glance deliberately. “I think I’ve got it.”
“Oh, I know you could do it without me.” Emily slipped out onto the street and strode toward the horse trailers, as excited and energetic as the animals whinnying in the confines. “But I really don’t want to miss this!”
* * *
“AT WHAT POINT are you going to stop using me to dodge your familial difficulties?” Dylan asked Emily, after the papers transferring financial responsibility to Shane and care of the mustangs to Dylan were signed and they were headed out to their vehicles.
“Never?” Emily paused at the door of her car.
Dylan peered down at her. “Think again.”
She hit the unlock button on the automatic keypad. “Look, I owe you for last night, and thus far you’ve refused to let me pay you back with free food, so I’m left to come up with another way to pay off my debt. This is it.”
Dylan curved a hand over the top of her open door as she climbed in behind the wheel. He leaned down so they were face to face. “I repeat. You do not have to do this.”
“Sure I do. For the very same reason you don’t ever let a lady pay your way.”
He should have known she would use his words against him.
She smiled, unperturbed. “So I’ll help you with the mustangs.”
Damn, if she wasn’t used to getting her own way, even if it meant upsetting the hard-earned tranquility of his life.
“Just understand,” Dylan said, “when you’re out there, playtime is over. I’m putting you to work.”
Turning the key in the ignition, she shot him a sassy look. “Bring it on!”
* * *
EMILY COULDN’T WAIT to get a good look at the horses. She bounded out of her car the moment she arrived at Dylan’s ranch. She set her hat on her head and strode toward him. “What do you want me to do?”
Dylan turned, all business and all cowboy. “Honestly? Stay out of the way,” he said, grimacing.
Emily blew out a disappointed breath. Before she could figure out how to persuade him otherwise, he took a step closer and growled, “I mean it, Emily. I don’t want you getting trampled.”
Emily followed him over to a big round corral with high metal-bar sides. “I’ve been around horses all my life.”
Dylan opened the gate wide and motioned for the truck carrying the two yearlings. He directed the driver to back slowly toward the opening. “These mustangs are completely different from the domesticated cutting horses your father breeds and trains. These horses are wild, down to the core.”
Hand to her shoulder, Dylan guided her to the outside of the pen, then walked back around to the rear of the enclosed vehicle.
Emily’s heartbeat picked up as he opened the trailer and let the first horse out.
It was a filly, about six months old, with a speckled white coat and an ivory mane, her beauty marred only by the identifying freeze marks on her neck. She whinnied as she came barreling out of confinement and raced to the other end of the pen. Emily could see she was frightened—she was standing with her tail puckered tight against her hindquarters and the back of her legs.
Dylan stood quietly, as did Emily, as the filly trembled and kept her head up.
Dylan