* * *
Luke glanced up to see Will Tyler’s daughter perched on the metal bars of the fence. She hadn’t spoken or made a sound. But her blue eyes seemed to be watching his every move. What was her name? Erin, he remembered now. She was a pretty thing, but he met plenty of pretty things in his trade—ranchers’ daughters and even wives, who let him know, sometimes none too subtly, that he might be welcome to do more than shoe horses. He never took them up on their offers. That would be bad for business. If he needed a woman, he’d have no trouble picking up one who knew the score and didn’t pull strings.
This little princess, in her tight-ass jeans and cowgirl boots, was strictly off limits. But she didn’t appear to be flirting with him. She seemed more interested in what he was doing.
Luke released the foal he’d finished trimming. When he straightened to ease his back, his gaze met hers.
“Anything I can do for you, miss?” he asked.
“No. I just want to watch you and maybe learn a few things. Is that all right?”
“You’re the boss.”
“Will it bother you if I ask a few questions?”
“Nope. Ask away.” He surveyed the foals a moment, picking out the ones he had yet to work on, and led another to the fence.
“The leg spreading thing. Do you find it in all the foals?”
“Pretty much.” He soothed the foal, then picked up a dainty front hoof, braced it, and reached for the cleaning knife.
“What about other problems? Can you fix t
hose as well?”
“You mean like pigeon toes or knock knees?” Luke finished cleaning the hoof and reached for the rasp with his free hand. “Again, most small problems can be kept from turning into big ones with the right trimming. And once isn’t enough. It needs to be done every few months. Of course, this is for a healthy foal. If the issue’s more serious—say, a leg’s bent or twisted—you call in a vet as soon as the foal’s born.”
Luke shifted to the foal’s opposite side. In his work, he’d had hundreds of similar conversations with ranchers and horse trainers. But he’d never had a sweet young thing like Erin ask him these kinds of questions, let alone pay attention to the answers.
Maybe there was a brain behind that pretty face. Or maybe she was just trying to impress him. He was almost thirty, and this little beauty didn’t look old enough to order a legal drink. All the more reason to keep things strictly business between them.
He remembered grabbing her last night when she’d almost stepped on that damn fool snake. She’d been in his arms for mere seconds, but the womanly curves of breast and hip against his body had triggered a reaction—one he was better off forgetting.
So why was he thinking about it now?
Damn!
“Have you seen my stallion, Tesoro?” she asked him.
“The palomino? Yes, I looked him over this morning when your foreman showed him to me. He’s a beautiful animal—and a lot of horse for a woman.”
“I raised him.” A note of defiance crept into her voice. “I broke and trained him, too. No one rides him but me.”
Luke kept on working, giving her time to say more.
“I assume you’ll be shoeing him,” she said. “I was just wondering if you noticed any problems, anything you might correct.”
“Not really. Everything seems to line up fine. But before I start on him, I do have a question. I notice he’s shod now. Where do you ride him?”
“Wherever I want to. Does it matter?”
“It does. For a stud horse, it’s safer for the mares if his front feet don’t have shoes. He’s less likely to hurt them that way. That’s fine if you’re riding him in the pastures. But if you’re riding him over rough ground, he’ll need shoes to protect his feet.”
“I never considered that,” Erin said. “I’d like to give it some thought before I let you know.”
“Fine. There’s plenty of time.” He glanced up as a dusty-looking SUV pulled into the yard. “Looks like you’ve got company,” he said.
Erin followed the direction of his gaze. “Oh, drat!” she muttered.