He raised one eyebrow. “Anyone ever tell you you’re nosy?”
Her pulse picked up. “Anyone ever tell you you’re maddeningly private?”
“All the time.” He tapped her playfully on the nose. “And you didn’t answer my question,” he said.
She tried hard not to stare into his eyes as deeply as he was gazing into hers. “Inquisitive was the word Miss Mim used, I believe,” she murmured, feeling her cheeks heat. “And yes, she said that all the time.” She held up a finger as if lecturing to a student. “And you know what that means.”
He waited.
“Once I have a question in my mind, I have to discover the answer.” She paused for effect. “No matter what it takes.”
“Threats don’t work on me,” he told her mildly.
She wrinkled her brow, the way she always did when working a puzzle. “Is that what Vince Owen did to you? Did he threaten you someway, somehow?”
Trevor scoffed. “You’ve been watching too many mystery shows on TV.”
“But something despicable is going on here, nonetheless. Otherwise you and Vince wouldn’t give each other those looks.”
Trevor’s expression remained impassive. “Looks,” he echoed, as if he hadn’t the slightest idea what she was talking about. Even though she knew he did.
“Like you can’t stand each other but you’re going to be polite because you’ve ended up living and working in the same place and to do otherwise would make everyone else even more uncomfortable and that would be ungentlemanly, and you were brought up, as a McCabe, to be a gentleman.”
“Well, now that you’ve got it all figured out…”
“Okay. Don’t tell me.” Rebecca pivoted. “I guess I could always ask your mother.”
He clamped a hand on her shoulder, brought her back around. “Why do you care?” he demanded.
She made her eyes go wide. “Because in case you haven’t noticed, cowboy, I live between the Circle Y Ranch and the Wind Creek Ranch, and that puts me right smack- dab in the middle of you two guys. And although you might be willing to let that go, I assure you, Vince Owen will not.”
Resentment warred with the curiosity on his handsome face. “Did you ask him?”
Why hadn’t she? She could have. “I wanted to hear your side.”
“And not his?”
Rebecca tried not to think why she automatically trusted Trevor in a way she couldn’t seem to honor Vince. “Are you going to tell me or not?”
“Vince and I met at Texas A&M,” he told her brusquely. “We were both studying cattle management. I was at the top of my class from the beginning—probably because I grew up on a cattle ranch and worked side by side with my dad, who happens to be one of the best cattlemen around.”
It was more than that, Rebecca knew.
Trevor had a way with animals. An immense capacity for hard, physical, down and dirty work. And a need to achieve as deep as her own.
From what she’d seen thus far, Vince seemed driven by the outward trappings of success. Instead of being content with one ranch in one area of the state, he wanted three. He managed instead of ranched. And he already had his eye on the local social scene.
“Vince wanted to be the top student in our department. He was upset when he could not best me on exams and labs.”
Okay. “And that’s it?”
“Obviously, you’ve never had anyone continually competing with you. It grates on a person.”
She studied him. “You think that’s why Vince Owen bought a ranch so close to yours, don’t you?”
Trevor clenched his fists in frustration. “It’s not just this ranch. He dogs me all the time. I was asked to be a speaker on a ranching seminar last year. He found out and unbeknownst to me, got on the program, too. He found out what kinds of cattle I was breeding, started breeding that type, too. Bought a herd of heifers out from under me. Bought that land on the other side of you—the Circle Y—out from under me. I had offered the asking price to the previous owner, when he was ready to sell. Next thing I know he has accepted an offer from an intermediary for ten percent more. When I heard it, I had a sinking feeling who the new owner might be, but I didn’t know for sure until Vince Owen walked into the feed store yesterday morning.”
She glanced sideways at him. “Wow. No wonder you’re annoyed.”
Trevor dropped his hands to his sides and shrugged. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I won’t. I knew right off he wasn’t the kind of guy I wanted to have as a friend.”
“That doesn’t mean he won’t use you to get to me,” Trevor warned.
“To use me, he’d have to get me to give him something. I have no intention of doing that. Now or ever,” Rebecca said flatly. “I do want to thank you, though, for helping me go get Blue Mist this morning.”
“No problem. I haven’t been around alpacas since I was in college. I had forgotten how beautiful they are.”
Interesting he would say that, Rebecca thought. It mirrored her feelings exactly.
As if realizing she was being talked about, Blue Mist ambled toward them.
The fawn-colored animal stood at almost five feet. With her gentle demeanor, long, sloping neck, sturdy giraffe-shaped body and dense, soft and fluffy wool coat, she lent a pastoral quality to The Primrose. Her cute oblong face and intelligent dark eyes only added to her appeal. Rebecca stroked her wool.
“How much do you know about shearing?” she asked Trevor.
He grinned. “I haven’t tried it on my cattle.”
“I’m going to have to do that once I get the entire herd on the property. It has to be done before it gets too hot.”
He rubbed Blue Mist behind the ears. “You shear them once a year?”
Rebecca nodded. “In the spring.”
Trevor dropped his hand as Blue Mist moved away once again. “One question. How did an alpaca with light brown wool get the name Blue Mist?”
Rebecca had been wondering if and when Trevor would ask that. “She was born on a foggy morning, and when the owners first saw her, she was rising up out of a blue mist.”
“Ah.”
“It’s a good name, I think. Prophetic.”
“You mean romantic,” he teased.
Rebecca couldn’t afford to be thought of as anything less than business-minded. “I mean it spoke to me when I heard it. And when I met her, saw how gentle she was, and found out she was already with cria, I knew she was the start of my herd.”
“Speaking of which…you and I need to talk about the fence around your pastures.”
“Why?” Rebecca braced for news that would cost her more than she’d already spent. “What’s wrong with it?” she asked in trepidation.
“The wood is breaking down in places.”
She cocked her head. “You had your cattle in there.”
His lips twitched. “Circumstances are different now. We’re going to have my thousand-pound steers on my side of that fence, and your one-hundred-pound alpacas on the other.”
“Are you saying your cattle are going to bother my alpacas?”
His