Enhanced descriptions from Syndetics:

The New York Times bestselling author of Crazy for the Cowboy ropes another sexy Texan in a novel of untamed, passion-filled romance in the Panhandle....

Expert rider Mac Foster's got it bad for Anastasia Bickford, but he's fighting it. Not only is she a friend--she's his boss's sister, making her the last person he should be lusting after. To make matters worse, she's creating a name for herself as an artist, and it's only a matter of time before the world comes knocking at her door.

Though Anastasia has a growing reputation for her vivid drawings of a legendary wild stallion they call the Ghost, she's never seen him. A secret fear of horses has forced her to rely only on photos. Since no one knows the Ghost better than Mac, he can help her overcome her fear by teaching her to ride. But in order to get closer to the stallion, she'll have to get closer to the man.

Excerpt provided by Syndetics

PROLOGUE Anastasia waited until everyone was sound asleep before she crawled out of bed. Mommy said horses were dirty and smelly and no little girl of hers was ever getting on one. Oh, yes, she was. Her new stepsister, Georgie, got to ride her very own horse named Prince. Anastasia's new daddy had a horse, too, and Georgie got to ride with him. It wasn't fair. Riding didn't look hard. You didn't even need a saddle. Georgie sometimes climbed right up on Prince and rode off like girls in the movies. And Georgie had a whip. Her daddy--well, Anastasia's daddy now, too--had taught Georgie to do tricks with it. Mommy said no little girl of hers would be doing tricks with a whip, either. Georgie got to do all the fun stuff. Quiet as a mouse, Anastasia went downstairs and out the back door. Maybe she should have put on shoes. Lots of rocks out here. Ouchy. But it wasn't cold. She had to shove real hard to slide the piece of wood out of the way so she could open the barn door. She left it open because she'd be coming out again. On Prince. Her heart jumped around like a frog in her chest. A yard light helped her see what she was doing. The stall wasn't easy to get open, either. But she finally got it. She reached up, took hold of Prince's mane and tugged. "Come on, Prince." He came right out, almost knocking her over. "Stop!" He stopped, and she dragged a stool close to him. Getting on wasn't so easy, either. And once she was sitting on his back, she was surprised to see how high off the ground she was. His back was wide and kind of slippery. Holding his mane, she kicked his sides. "Go!" He walked out of the barn and into the meadow. Her tummy turned somersaults. She was riding! But not very fast. She kicked him again, harder. "Go, go, go!" He did, and it was yucky. She bounced and bounced. "Stop!" But he only went faster! This wasn't fun at all! Crying and screaming, she tried to hold on, but his neck was too big. She couldn't reach around it. She yelled as loud as she could. "Noooooo!" Just like that, he stopped and she was in the air. When she landed a second later, she hit the ground hard, too hard. She couldn't breathe. Her chest hurt. Oh, no. He was coming. The horse blew through his nose and his hooves were huge. "No!" She tried to scoot back. "No! Noooooo!" She scrambled backward and screamed until her throat hurt. He finally went away. She sat and shivered, afraid to make a noise, afraid to move as her heart thumped really loud. After a long time, she heard Georgie calling. She tried to answer, but it was a tiny sound. Her throat hurt so bad. Georgie called again, and she made another squeaky noise. Then she saw the flashlight bobbing along. But she heard something that made her whole body shake. Hoof beats. She made herself get up even though she ached all over. The bobbing light came closer. She saw Georgie riding her daddy's horse and leading Prince with a whip around his neck. She backed away. But running was no use. She sucked in all the air she could. "No horses!" It wasn't loud. But Georgie stopped. Then she climbed down. Holding the flashlight, she came over. "Oh, Anastasia. What were you thinking?" "No horses," she whispered. Georgie brushed dirt and pieces of grass away from her face. Then she ran her hands over her arms and legs. "You seem to be in one piece, but you're in big trouble, kid." She imagined her mommy's face, red and mad. "D-don't tell." Georgie wiped away her tears with the tail of her shirt. "Shh. Don't cry. I won't tell, but we have to head back before somebody else wakes up. You can ride with me. Come on." "No!" She stumbled backward. "Come on. You have to get back somehow. I need to put these horses away and clean you up." "I'll walk." "Just let me boost you up on--" "No!" Georgie sighed. "All right. Here's the flashlight. Me and the horses will lead you home. I'll go slow." She nodded and took the flashlight. "But someday you'll have to get back on a horse, Anastasia. It's what people do when they fall off." She looked at the two giant horses standing in the meadow and shivered. "No," she whispered. "Never." CHAPTER 1 Present day "Mac, you must be craving that cold beer." Travis hurried to keep up as they walked down Bickford's main street after another successful trail ride. "You haven't moved this fast since the time Vince snuck a tarantula into your shower." "And let the record show I haven't forgiven him for that." But Mac modified his pace. Yeah, he was looking forward to sipping a cold one at Sadie's Saloon, but he was more focused on showing Anastasia the new pictures on his phone. He'd snapped some beauties of the wild stallion and his herd on the overnight trail ride this weekend and Anastasia would go nuts over them. But he didn't want Travis to know that was why he'd unconsciously lengthened his stride. Knowing Travis, he'd read too much into it. Anastasia Bickford was just a friend, and that's the way it would always stay. In the short time he'd lived here, they'd established the kind of relationship where they could talk about anything. Anastasia was a talented artist, and with a creative mind like hers, the topics were never dull. "I like to savor my walk down Main Street after a trail ride," Travis said. "Makes me feel like a hero." He tipped his hat to a resident who walked by and called out a greeting. "People are grateful to us, Mac. I mean, just look at the difference we've made in this town." He gestured toward the colorful storefronts and the bustling tourist trade. "Just remember, Vince got the ball rolling, not us." "Yeah, but we keep it rolling." "True." Mac did take satisfaction in that as he gazed at the revitalized town. They were having a mild fall season, not much rain and not a hint of snow. Mac's denim jacket kept him plenty warm in the evenings, and during the day he was in his shirtsleeves. Perfect weather for trail rides. Most shop windows displayed a poster version of Anastasia's painting advertising Wild Horse Canyon Adventures. It was a great image, but then Anastasia was a great artist. The poster featured a majestic gray stallion against a blue Texas Panhandle sky. Mac couldn't believe how much things had changed in Bickford in the last six months. He, Travis, and Vince had come to town then for a reunion, thinking they'd relive the fun times they'd had while working at a nearby guest ranch. They'd arrived to find stores boarded up and the town on the verge of collapse. After the guest ranch closed, the local economy had tanked, but Vince had saved the day with his brainstorm to offer trail rides into the canyon to see wild horses and their legendary leader, the Ghost. "The way I look at it," Travis said, "we guide the trail rides, right?" "Right." "And according to those online surveys Anastasia sends out, customer satisfaction is high." "So she says." He got a kick out of Anastasia's excitement over those surveys. He also suspected she deleted the negative ones. "Which means we're doing a helluva job and I'm gonna claim some credit. Hello, ladies." He touched the brim of his hat as they passed a couple of tourists laden down with shopping bags. "You oughta come on the trail ride," he called after them. "I lead it!" "Then we just might, cowboy!" one of them called back. Mac shook his head. The actual trail boss was the one bringing up the rear, which would be Mac, but Travis did love to flirt. "See? I just drummed up more business by being my usual outgoing self. You and I are vital to the success of this venture." "You certainly are. You should get a sandwich board and a bullhorn." "Nope. Doesn't fit my cool-dude image. But speaking of sandwiches, I'm hungry." Travis paused at the entrance to Bickford's refurbished ice-cream shop with its red-and-white-striped decor. "I have a hankering for a hot fudge sundae with extra fudge and nuts. Let's do it." "You go right ahead. I'd rather have a cold beer." "We'll have both. We'll drink beer after we finish the sundaes." Mac grimaced. "You're such a finicky eater, Mac Foster. Go ahead to Sadie's. I'll catch up with you after I have my primo sundae." "Suits me." "But don't start the darts tournament until I get there." "Wouldn't dream of it." In the late afternoons, they'd formed the habit of playing darts with Anastasia and anyone else who was interested. "I'll just drink until you get there." "Perfect. I'll be sharp and you'll be sloshed." "As if that would keep me from beating you, amigo." Mac grinned and continued on to Sadie's. He was just as glad Travis had decided to stop for ice cream. Talking to Anastasia about the pictures would be easier without Travis hanging over his shoulder making comments and doing his usual flirting. Travis wouldn't ask her out, though, for the same reason he wouldn't. Anastasia was Georgie Bickford's little sis, and Georgie was officially in charge of Wild Horse Canyon Adventures. Vince had dreamed up the idea but he hadn't wanted to run the thing. He hadn't even planned on sticking around to see how the business worked out, but that was before he'd fallen for Georgie. So Georgie ran the operation, but Vince had become the official spokesperson for the venture, the one who handled the media. Surprisingly, there was media. A wild stallion and his band had turned out to be a story that had captured national attention. In fact, Vince was in Houston this weekend talking to an animal-advocacy group, and a film crew from Dallas would arrive in three weeks to shoot a documentary. Bickford residents were busting their buttons with civic pride. Nothing this big had ever happened here. Dwarfed by Amarillo to the north and Lubbock to the south, the town had always been small potatoes, even when the guest ranch had been operating. Mac was happy for everyone, especially Anastasia. She deserved recognition for her work, and the documentary would help give her that. Sure, she had some art in a local gallery in Amarillo, thanks to Georgie's prodding, but that wasn't nearly enough exposure. With her talent, she should be famous. Opening the street door to the saloon, Mac looked straight over to the corner where she'd set up shop. Georgie had urged her to rent a storefront and create an actual studio, but so far Anastasia hadn't made that happen. She seemed to prefer the familiar atmosphere of Sadie's. Maybe that wasn't such a bad idea. Lots of people came in here and her work hung all over the walls with For Sale tags on it. Ever since the trail rides had taken off, she'd sold plenty of her watercolors depicting the town and, of course, the Ghost. Plus she did charcoal portraits, and she'd picked up a lot of business sitting in a corner of the saloon with her sketch pad at the ready. She was sketching someone right now, in fact. Mac smiled when he saw Ida Harrington sitting at Anastasia's table having her portrait done. Some people might laugh at a ninetysomething woman who colored her hair bright red and wore jeans and vests decorated with bling. Mac thought Ida was terrific. She'd moved to Bickford after her wealthy husband died and left her a pile of money. She could have given it to the town when the residents were in so much trouble, but she said it would just be throwing it to the wind if they didn't have a plan. Once Vince had suggested the trail rides, she'd underwritten the bulk of the expenses to get the business started. Because Mac didn't want to interrupt Ida's portrait sitting, he walked over to the bar and ordered a beer. Ike Plunkett had been the bartender when Mac had been a wrangler at the guest ranch, and Ike had hung on through the economic downturn. He was probably only in his forties, but had started losing his hair early. That, plus his wire-framed glasses, made him look brainy. But it was his welcoming smile that brought customers into Sadie's, and he flashed it now. "The conquering heroes return. Where's Travis?" Mac slid onto a stool. "Eating ice cream. And don't tell Travis he's a conquering hero. He's already out of control on that subject. I keep trying to convince him that we're just regular working guys." "Not to a lot of people around here." Ike set a foaming glass in front of him. "You're like knights in shining armor." "More like tarnished armor." Mac reached for his wallet. "Put that away. This one's on the house, like always." Mac gazed at him in frustration. "I know the saloon's doing better, but you still have to make a living." "I make a good one, thanks to Wild Horse Canyon Adventures. Steve and Myra are doing handsprings over the number of hotel reservations that came in this week." Mac grinned at the image of Steve and Myra Jenson, both middle-aged and stocky, doing handsprings. They'd bought the Bickford Hotel and the attached saloon years ago when business was booming. They'd weathered the bad years, and now business was good again. They deserved to reap the rewards. "I'm glad everyone's happy," he said, "but I still think I should pay for my beer." "Don't tell me." Ike swiped a bar rag over the polished mahogany surface that had been the resting place for drinks for more than a century. "Steve gave me my orders. You'll have to take it up with him." "Maybe I will." Mac sipped his beer and licked the foam from his lip. He liked it here in Bickford. He liked it so well he'd bought a fixer-upper east of town and was gradually getting it the way he wanted. First house ever. That was probably a sign he was growing up. "Hey, handsome." Ida appeared at his elbow. "Where's Travis?" "Eating ice cream." "How wholesome of him." "He plans to follow the hot fudge sundae with his usual quota of beer." Ida wrinkled her nose. "That's disgusting. Did you tell him that's disgusting?" "More or less. But he's a big boy." "You don't have to tell me. All three of you are pure eye candy." Mac's face heated. "Cut it out, Ida." "Not on your life. Age has its privileges. Anyway, I'm done if you want to go over and chat with Anastasia." "Can I see your picture, first?" "I was hoping you'd ask." Ida opened the folder Anastasia mounted the portraits in to protect them. Six months ago she'd sketched Mac and had simply handed him the sheet of paper. These days the presentation was far more elegant. He'd had her sketch of him framed, but he still didn't know what to do with it. Hanging it up in his house seemed conceited. He looked at Anastasia's vision of Ida, and it was perfect. Anastasia had caught the woman's irreverence and sparkle, plus an underlying wisdom that some people missed because Ida was so outrageous. She didn't appear young in the portrait, but not ancient, either. More like ageless, and certainly someone you'd want to know. Mac glanced at Ida. "It's you." "I know . That girl has some kind of magic. I've had her do my portrait six times, and this is the best. She just keeps getting better. When I croak, I want this in the paper with my obituary, not some studio shot when I was a kid of fifty." "I hope you're not planning on croaking anytime soon." "God, no. Too much going on. They want me to be in the documentary, and eventually Vince will marry Georgie, and I can't miss that. " Vince laughed. "You certainly can't. None of us can. I'd crawl through quicksand to see Vince Durant finally get hitched. He was so sure it wouldn't ever happen." "He was at that, foolish boy." Ida smiled. "But I knew." Her thick glasses magnified the curiosity in her gaze. "When are you going to admit you have a thing for Anastasia?" He gulped. "Excuse me?" "You can't fool an old lady, Mac Foster. FYI, she likes you, too." "I know she does." He tried to steady his racing pulse. Not a good conversation to have right before he walked over to her table. "We're good friends." "I don't mean she likes you. I mean she likes you." Ida waggled her plucked eyebrows. Mac was determined to make light of it, despite the way his libido reacted to that comment. "You're a romantic, Ida. You want everybody paired up. But I can't date Anastasia. It's way too complicated." "Bullshit." He cracked up. Couldn't help it. Hearing a woman her age using the word bullshit was plain hysterical. She was the type, though. Ida didn't pull her punches. "Go ahead and laugh all you want, but that's another reason for me to stick around. I want to see how you and Anastasia turn out." Still chuckling, Mac gazed at her. "I'm happy to provide the motivation for you to stick around, no matter how misguided that motivation might be. But I have to tell you, I'm not dating her. End of story." Ida looked into his eyes for a moment longer. "You are completely clueless, just like your friend Vince was." Then she stood on tiptoe, kissed his cheek, and left the saloon. He wasn't sure if he'd just been blessed or cursed. But Ida knew things. You couldn't live on this planet for almost a century and not get pretty damn good at reading people and situations. For the first time he questioned the wisdom of being so chummy with Anastasia. Maybe he shouldn't show her the pictures he'd taken, after all. She had a whole bunch on her computer already. These were nice, but if Ida was right and Anastasia liked him, then deliberately spending time with her wouldn't do either of them any favors. Georgie was super protective when it came to her sister, or rather her stepsister. Georgie's mom had died when she was a toddler and later on her dad had remarried a woman with two girls--Anastasia, the younger one, and Charmaine, the older one. Charmaine lived in Dallas while she hunted for a wealthy husband, something her greedy mother hoped for. It would have been a classic Cinderella story except that Charmaine and Anastasia weren't ugly stepsisters by any stretch. Charmaine was a sweetheart who mostly just wanted to please her momma, although she also liked the finer things in life and wasn't opposed to marrying a rich guy. Anastasia had told him point blank that she'd rather die than marry for wealth or prestige. She'd told her mother that, too, but Evelyn kept hoping Anastasia would fall in love with some well-heeled tourist passing through Bickford. The chances of that had improved exponentially in the past few months. Mac took another swallow of his beer. He wished Ida hadn't told him that Anastasia had a crush on him. Ida could be wrong, of course, or she could be up to her usual shenanigans. She might think if she planted that idea in his head, he'd be driven to act on it. Well, he wasn't going to. He'd already taken a trip down the aisle only to discover he wasn't good at marriage. Nobody in Bickford knew about that episode except Vince and Travis. He'd been divorced for a couple of years, now, and figured that would be his permanent designation. He chose to date women who didn't want anything more than a fun time. That wasn't Anastasia. She deserved a forever guy who was good at this relationship business and would make her happy. But he didn't want to be unfriendly, either. Now that Ida had left, Anastasia sat alone at her corner table, her hand moving rapidly over the sketch pad propped against her bent knee. From this angle he could see the intense concentration on her pretty face but not what she was drawing. But since she wasn't looking at him, he could sneak a look at her, always a pleasure. He supposed some people would call her a brunette, but he didn't think that was nearly enough of a description. Her hair, which she mostly wore in a ponytail, like today, was about six different colors of brown, ranging from dark to light. The variations in her hair fascinated him. But after a second or two, he turned back to his glass of beer so nobody would get the wrong idea. He probably didn't have to worry, though. None of the customers sitting at the tables or at the bar were local and they all seemed to be involved in their own conversations. He glanced over at her again and she happened to look up right at that moment. Her instant smile of delight made his chest hurt. Did she have a crush? He hoped not. That would cause problems for both of them. But now that they'd made eye contact, he had to go over and say hi. If he didn't, she'd think something was wrong. So he smiled back, picked up his half-full beer glass and walked over to her table. He'd ask about her work. That was always a safe topic and he really was interested. He loved seeing what kinds of pictures she came up with. "I noticed you over here furiously drawing something. What is it?" She laughed and turned the sketch pad around. There he was, sitting on a barstool looking thoughtful as he sipped his beer. Yikes. Maybe Ida had a point. "Hey, I recognize that guy. He sure could use a haircut." "Nah, it looks better long. And it's way more fun to draw than really short hair." She turned the pad around and studied the sketch. "You seemed to be thinking so hard. I hope you didn't have any issues on the trail this weekend." "Nope." He remained standing because if he sat down, he'd get into a longer conversation with her. It never failed. They always could find something to talk about, but now that he was worried she had a crush, he ought to minimize the amount of time he spent with her. "In fact, the ride went well." "Good." She added a few strokes of charcoal to his portrait before glancing up again. "Got any good pictures of the Ghost for me?" "Um, yeah, now that you mention it." Her eyes also fascinated him. It probably said hazel on her driver's license, but he couldn't decide what color they were. Depending on the light or what she wore, they could look green, brown, gold, or a blend of those colors. Although he'd decided not to show her the pictures, he couldn't look into those eyes and lie. For some reason she trusted him and he never wanted that to change, which was another reason not to get involved. If she trusted him with her heart, he might mess up, and that would be terrible. He opened his picture app, scrolled to the bottom, and handed her the phone. She sucked in a breath. "Mac, these are stupendous! I'm surprised you didn't show them to me when you first walked in." "You were with Ida." "She wouldn't have cared. And it's not like I go into a trance when I draw. You've watched me. I chat and make jokes the whole time. Oh, this one. " She turned the screen toward him. "Text them all to me, but this is the one I'll do first. Head up, mane blowing in the wind, looking every inch the leader. I love it." Happiness flooded through him. He'd known she'd react this way. When he'd checked out the shots early this morning, he'd been excited to get back here and show them to her. He almost hadn't done it after what Ida had said, and that would have been a damn shame. Maybe Ida was mistaking Anastasia's natural enthusiasm for a crush. He'd heard her gush over the half barrels of flowers that lined the sidewalks as if she'd never seen flowers before. Now she was wild about the horse pictures on his phone. That was just her way. She might have spoken to Ida about him with an edge of anticipation in her voice. It didn't have to mean anything except that she was glad they were friends and he brought her pictures of the Ghost nearly every weekend. "As long as I have your phone, do you care if I just text them to myself?" "No, go ahead. I took them--" He caught himself before he said for you. That might be a little too pointed, so he finished with "for people who hadn't been out there yet." Damn. He never used to watch what he said before. That had been half the fun of being around her. Her thumbs moved rapidly over the screen. "That's something I'd like to talk to you about. Do you have a minute to sit down?" "Sure." He hadn't meant to, but what could it hurt? She'd said a minute, not an hour. He pulled out a chair and set his beer on the table. After she finished sending the pictures to herself, she handed his phone back. "I have a big favor to ask." "What's that?" She closed her sketch pad and tucked it inside the messenger bag she always carried. Then she looked straight at him. "I need to learn how to ride a horse." That startled the heck out of him. "You don't already know?" "I don't." She lowered her voice. "They scare me." "Wow. I had no idea. I just assumed . . . I don't know what I assumed." But now that she'd brought it up, he realized that she'd never suggested going out to see the Ghost herself, and the only way to do that was on horseback. She kept her voice down and leaned toward him. "I've been afraid of them since I was little, but it didn't really matter until now. I'm starting to feel like a fraud because I'm getting known for drawing a horse I've never seen." "No one would ever guess. The pictures are perfect." He could tell she didn't want any of this to become common knowledge. Considering how easily she'd always told him things, it wasn't surprising that she'd tell him this and know he'd keep quiet about it. "Maybe I'm fooling people, but when the film crew arrives, they'll be asking questions, and I don't want to admit I've never seen this horse. So if you'd be willing to teach me to ride, then I could--" "Why not ask Georgie?" Instinctively he knew that teaching her to ride was not a good idea. He wasn't sure whether there was a crush involved or not, but now that Ida had mentioned the possibility, it was permanently planted in his brain. Until now, they'd seen a fair amount of each other, but usually here at Sadie's with other people around. Riding lessons would mean scheduled private time on a regular basis, and if they had any chemistry . . . well, he didn't want to test it. "Georgie would baby me. She wouldn't mean to, but I'm her little sister and she can't help being overprotective. You and I are the kind of friends who tell it like it is. You'd push me out of my comfort zone so I can get past this irrational fear. I know it's a big favor, but . . . you're the only person I really trust to help me." "Hey, Mac and Anastasia!" Travis picked that moment to bounce in on a sugar high and hail them from halfway across the saloon. "Who's up for a game of darts?" "Be right there!" Mac called back. Then he turned to Anastasia. "Look, I'm not sure if--" " Please say yes." When it came down to it, he didn't really have a choice. Disappointing her wasn't an option. He looked into those incredible eyes and knew he was about to make a huge mistake. "Okay. I'll do it." CHAPTER 2 Anastasia gladly joined Mac and Travis for their weekly game of darts, although she wasn't fully engaged in it. Instead she was busy congratulating herself on achieving her main objective for the day. After thinking about it all weekend, she'd decided to ask Mac for lessons when he appeared at Sadie's after the trail ride. He always came in for a beer and showed her his pictures, so the plan had seemed foolproof. Except today he'd broken his usual pattern. He'd come in for the beer, but then he'd stayed at the bar instead of walking over to her table. She could understand why he might not want to interrupt Ida's portrait session. He could have, but she appreciated the respect he'd always shown for her work. When he hadn't come over after Ida had left, though, she'd wondered what was going on. He'd known Ida was gone because she'd made a point of talking to him on her way out the door. That wasn't unusual. Ida never missed a chance to interact with any of the three cowboys who'd changed Bickford's fate for the better. But once Ida had walked out of the saloon, Anastasia had expected Mac to come over to her table. Instead he'd sat there sipping his beer and pondering . . . something. She'd given him a chance to say what he'd been thinking about, but he hadn't risen to the bait. That was okay. When he wanted to talk about it, he would. While he'd stayed at the bar lost in thought, she'd made good use of her time. Consequently she had another charcoal sketch of her favorite cowboy to add to her portfolio. Because she'd created a fair amount of portraits featuring Mac, he probably thought she was besotted. She was, in a way, because sketching his portrait months ago had jump-started her urge to draw again. But she wasn't in the mood for romance. She was too busy with her art and her blossoming career. She'd learned in art school that love affairs could be distracting and even fatal to her creativity. She was older and wiser, now, and probably wouldn't let herself get derailed again, but why take the chance? Mac's friendship was one of the joys of her life, so turning the excellent friendship into an affair made no sense, especially because he was also the perfect choice to deal with her phobia concerning horses. She'd heard him talk about working with greenhorns on the trail rides, and he had the attitude she was looking for in a riding teacher. He had empathy for beginners. He'd be tough but not mean, insistent but never a bully. She was desperate to see the Ghost in person and he'd agreed to help her. The documentary had been the inciting factor, but she'd been agonizing over the problem for months. Her strong sense of artistic integrity wouldn't let her build a reputation on a lie. Other artists might disagree, but drawing the Ghost without ever seeing him in the flesh felt deceptive. She couldn't keep doing it. "Bull's-eye!" Travis won the current round and performed an elaborate victory dance. Then he halted in front of Anastasia. "Mac's giving our darts tournament his all, but if you'll excuse my saying so, you're giving maybe your two-thirds, maybe even your half. Definitely not your all." "Sorry. I have some things on my mind." His eyes widened in mock horror. "More important than this?" He made her laugh, as he always did. When all three men had come to town six months ago, Bickford's population had been mostly composed of senior citizens. Vince had fixated on Georgie, which had left Mac and Travis for Anastasia, the only other eligible woman in town. She hadn't been sure which one captivated her more. She'd flirted with both of them, but now she knew. Travis felt like the brother she'd never had, and they teased each other unmercifully. But Mac, a few years older, was the guy she'd bonded with on a deeper level. Those kind brown eyes invited her to say things to him she wouldn't dream of saying to anyone else. She'd discovered how to make him laugh, and so she'd often bring up outrageous topics on purpose to crack him up. Yet even when he was joking around, she sensed something more going on with him. Maybe it was melodramatic and silly to imagine he had a secret sorrow, but . . . she thought he did. "So," Travis said. "Are these matters weighing on your mind to the point that you're not up for another best two out of three?" "Absolutely not." She wasn't a very good darts player, but she was usually an enthusiastic one. She hadn't been today, though. "Game on." "Ha!" Travis walked to the board and pulled out all the darts. "Anastasia Bickford is in the house!" "I was just getting warmed up." She accepted her share of darts from Travis. "Stand back, boys. Let me show you how it's done." Two hours later, Travis was the undisputed champion, as he usually turned out to be. There was a reason he insisted on playing darts every afternoon. Mac was competitive, but he didn't want the victory with the same intensity Travis did. Tonight Mac had played well, but she'd caught him glancing at her with a worried expression. He'd been reluctant to agree to the riding lessons, and she wasn't sure why. Now wasn't the time to ask him, though, with so many people around. She should have taken care of this pesky phobia years ago. She was amazed that her fear hadn't come through in her art. Or maybe it had, because her renderings of the Ghost always had a sense of power and . . . danger. People expected wild animals to be dangerous, so adding that subtle element might have given the drawings extra appeal. After Travis was declared the darts champion of the universe, he offered to buy a round of drinks, but she'd hit her limit of social interaction for the day. She could do it for a few hours at a time and then she had to retreat. Her art came from a place of solitude, not a place of bustling activity. She turned to address the people who'd gathered to watch the competition. "Thanks so much, everyone. But I'm heading home." That was another dilemma. She used to share the stately Victorian at the far end of Main Street with her mother and stepsister, but after Georgie and Vince had become engaged, they'd rented a little house. That had left Anastasia alone with her mother. She loved her, but they had almost nothing in common. Still, it was her home, and since she'd just announced she was going there, she might as well do so. After retrieving her messenger bag, she headed out the door of Sadie's. The best part of the sunset had faded, but she savored the afterglow. Sunset colors were tricky and she had more luck capturing them with watercolors than acrylics. She didn't realize Mac had followed her out until he caught up with her on the sidewalk. She glanced at him in surprise. "We didn't exactly make a plan for the riding lessons." "Oh. You're right. What's good for you?" "Early morning. Around six." "You're kidding. The sun's not even up then." "Almost, though." He matched his stride to hers. "The horses are fresh and you can get it out of the way first thing so you don't spend the whole day worrying about it. Then we can each get on with our day." She looked over at him. "The horses may be fresh, but I'll be virtually unconscious. I'm not an early riser." "What time do you usually get up?" "Eleven." "Eleven?" His shock made her grin. "I've been known to get up at ten thirty, but that's rare." "So what time do you go to bed?" "Usually around two, unless I'm stoked about a project. Then it could be four or five. I've discovered I'm very productive after midnight." "Hmm." He walked beside her without speaking for a little while. "So let's say you had to get up earlier to catch a plane or something. What then?" "I never book flights that leave in the morning. If I'm forced to, it's ugly." "But you spent four years in art school. You must have had some morning classes." The memory made her groan. "Yes, and it was horrible. I ditched so many times it's a wonder I passed any of them. Eventually I worked my schedule around so none of my classes started before eleven. If I could get an evening class, I jumped on it." "So you're a night owl." "Yep, that's me." She shrugged. "That's the way I'm built." They'd reached the slate blue Victorian with the white gingerbread trim. A light was on in the parlor where her mother had installed a large flat-screen. She'd be watching it and having a pitcher of martinis by now. Anastasia was home, or what served as home. She paused by the gate. "When I first came up with this idea, I was thinking we could do it around five thirty, after I've finished my stint at Sadie's. Around now--twilight." He stuck his thumbs in his belt loops and gazed at her. "That's awkward timing for the horses because Ed feeds them then. And I could be wrong, but aren't you extending your time at Sadie's into happy hour beginning next week? I could have sworn I saw some signage to that effect in the window." "You're right, darn it. I'd completely forgotten about that bright idea." She itched to pull out her sketch pad and draw him as he stood in that typical cowboy pose. She always wondered if guys realized they were framing their crotch when they did it or if the gesture was unconsciously provocative. In Mac's case it had to be unconscious. He never tried to be sexy. He just was. If she asked him about the pose, she was fairly sure he'd blush. Then he'd make an effort never to put his thumbs through his belt loops again. Her world would become less visually interesting and she'd have only herself to blame. A sketch of him standing like that would sell instantly, too. A woman might not understand the subliminal message, but she'd buy the sketch and it would give her a little buzz to look at it. Anastasia would get a little buzz drawing it, too. Good thing she had a photographic memory so she could get the creases in the denim just right and replicate the stitching on his fly. Then he lifted one hand to wave it in front of her face. "Hey, cut it out." She blinked and glanced up. Now she was blushing. "Um, I was . . . You probably got the wrong idea just now." "I sure as hell hope so." His expression was forbiddingly stern. "My interest in . . . in . . ." "My package?" His tone was mild but he was no longer relaxed. He'd squared up his stance and now stood with feet apart and arms crossed. "Not just that! You in general! It's purely artistic, I promise!" "Are you sure?" His brown gaze issued a challenge. "Because after Ida's comment, I--" "What comment?" "She thinks you like me." "Of course I do. I always have. You're a great guy." "She wasn't talking about liking as in friendship. She meant liking as in wanting to be more than friends." The conversation was affecting her heart rate for some stupid reason. But she didn't want him to know that, so she sighed and rolled her eyes. "You know not to listen to Ida. She loves to stir things up." "That's what I told myself, and then I caught you staring at my package." "I can explain that." She just needed to do it without making him self-conscious about sticking his thumbs in his belt loops. He continued to stand there with his arms crossed in a defensive posture. "Go ahead." "Now that I'm excited about drawing again, I'm constantly seeing things I want to draw." "Like my crotch?" He looked horrified. "No! All of you! While we stood there talking, I noticed your relaxed stance and thought it would make a nice sketch, but I couldn't very well whip out some paper and start drawing you on the spot. You'd think I'm crazy." His mouth turned up at the corners. "You already think I'm crazy, don't you?" "Kind of. But in a good way." His shoulders lost their rigidity. "Okay, I'll own that. I can get a little manic sometimes, especially about my art. In this case, I wanted to memorize every detail of how you were standing there so I could get the lines right when I went up to my room and started drawing. And the way the denim fits . . . in that area . . . is . . . complicated." His eyes sparkled with repressed laughter. "Sometimes more than others." "I suppose." Her cheeks felt so hot. They must be stop-sign red about now. "The point is, I'm viewing you through the eyes of an artist and that requires concentration." "You were definitely concentrating." His mouth twitched. "I do that all the time. Like if I decided to draw a-- oh, I don't know--an earthworm, for example, I'd study it just as closely as I was studying--" He lost it. "An earthworm ?" His laughter boomed out. "I think I've been insulted!" "Bad example." She'd made him laugh without trying to, but it still worked to ease the tension. She seriously doubted he had the equivalent of an earthworm tucked into his jeans or that he was the least bit insecure about what lay behind that zippered fly. She also wasn't convinced he believed her elaborate explanation as to why she was staring at it. He finally composed himself enough to be able to talk. "Listen, do you have anything you have to do right now?" "Other than going upstairs to draw a picture of your crotch?" "Stop. Just stop. So, nothing you have to do?" "Not really. Why?" "After all this talk about you drawing things constantly, I have an idea. We're only a little ways from Ed's stable. Let's wander over there." Her chest tightened. "For a lesson? Now?" "No. You have your sketch pad with you. How about if you draw a horse?" She stared at him as the idea registered. "That's brilliant." "Have you ever drawn one from real life?" "Like I said, they scare me. So I've avoided them. But if I start the process by drawing one, or several, that could be very calming." Or terrifying. She wouldn't know which until she tried it. "But I'm staying outside the fence." "They're all in the barn now, anyway. It's feeding time." "Then I'm staying outside the stall." "That's fine. I was picturing you concentrating on their heads, anyway. And their eyes. Look into their eyes long enough and I'll bet you'll feel better about climbing on board one of them." "You'll stick around while I do this?" "Why not? All I had on my schedule was ripping out some old carpet. That can wait." "Then let's go." The stables were only a short way from her house, but she'd never spent any time there, just like she'd never gone out to the little barn behind her house after that awful night. Georgie used to keep her horse, Prince, there, but the property she and Vince had rented included a barn, so Prince had moved out, too. "How are the renovations coming along?" she asked as they approached the stable. She wanted to know, but talking about it would serve the dual purpose of distracting her. She did not like barns. "Slow, but that's because I'm a perfectionist. At this rate I'll be finished in about ten years." "You should get Georgie to help you. She's extremely handy with tools." "She's offered, but I'm having fun doing it by myself. I've never owned a house before, so this is a brand-new experience for me." He pushed open the main gate to Ed and Vivian's property. It included the stable, a couple of corrals, and their house, which doubled as an office. Ed and Vivian sat on the front porch and they both called out a greeting. Mac waved at them. "Okay if I give Anastasia a tour of the stable?" "Sure thing." Ed smiled at her. "Don't think I've ever seen you down here, young lady." "Nope!" She smiled back, although it felt more like a grimace. "First time." "But not her last!" Mac sounded quite happy about that. She wasn't. She looked at him so she wouldn't have to look at where they were going. "I'm glad you bought a house here. It shows that you have confidence in Bickford's future." "I do, and I've always liked the town." They were mere steps from the barn's double doors, which stood open and ready to swallow her up. She kept the conversation going. "Vince would love to buy Mom's place because he knows how much Georgie wants it, but Mom won't sell while the market's going up." "And if she sold it, where would you live?" She shrugged. "I'd figure something out. I wish Georgie could get that house. Her ancestors built it and she maintains it even though she's not living there anymore. She should have it. I've tried talking to Mom but she's stubborn." "So I hear. Hey, are you okay?" He peered at her. "You look pale." "I'm scared of horses, but I'm also scared of barns." "I'm sorry. I didn't know that. I thought a barn would make it easier because the horses are all confined in their stalls. Do you want to forget going in?" She stood there breathing hard and feeling like an idiot. Learning to ride had been her idea, not Mac's, but he had agreed to help her and his suggestion that she draw the horses was a good one. Her ultimate goal was to ride a horse out to the canyon where the Ghost kept his band, and draw him from life. If she couldn't even enter this barn, then none of that would take place. People entered barns all the time. No big deal. She swallowed. "I want to go in. This is important." "Then take my hand." He laced his strong fingers through hers. "Thank you." The warmth of their entwined fingers spread through her and chased away the chill of dread. She would have done this without his welcome support, but his presence, and now his touch, made it so much easier. He squeezed her hand. "Let's go." Eyes open, heart pounding, she walked into a barn for the first time since she'd been a fanciful little girl of six. The scent of hay and the sound of horses moving in their stalls brought it all back. Her throat closed and she felt dizzy. "You can do it." Releasing her hand, he put an arm around her shoulders and urged her forward. His solid bulk beside her was the only thing that kept her from turning around and running outside. His grip was firm and his pace steady. "You're fine," he murmured. "I'm here. I promise nothing will happen to you. Just keep walking." He had far more confidence in her than she had in herself, and for that reason she kept going. She couldn't let him down. She couldn't let herself down, either. A large horse with a reddish coat poked its head out of the stall to gaze at them. Mac paused. "Hey, Jasper. I've brought somebody to meet you. This is Anastasia. She wants to do your portrait. You up for that?" The horse blew out through his nose, and Anastasia hung back. Mac's grip on her shoulder tightened. "They do that kind of thing sometimes when they meet people. Nothing worrisome about it. Jasper and me, we're buddies. Technically, he's not my horse, but I've had the use of him for trail rides and we have an understanding. Don't we, Jasper?" The horse gazed at them with eyes so big they reflected an image of Mac. The artist in her was fascinated by those eyes fringed with dark lashes. Mac had been right that she needed to concentrate on those, which seemed filled with understanding. She might be imagining that quality, but if imagining it helped, she'd go with it. "Feel like sketching this guy?" Mac gave her shoulder another squeeze. "He's my favorite, so I'd be much obliged if you would." "Of course." It was the least she could do. "Let me get you a place to sit." He let go of her. She held back a cry of dismay. The support of his arm had meant more than she'd realized. "You can use this." He brought over a canvas camp stool. Without his support she felt a little wobbly, so she sat on the stool. "I'll wager Jasper's never had his portrait done." Mac rubbed the horse's nose. "He'll love it." The affection Mac obviously felt for the horse inspired her to pull out her sketch pad. If she could capture that emotion, she'd have something new for her portfolio. She sketched the man first, but then she turned her attention to the horse. Such a sleek coat, such an interesting play of muscles in Jasper's neck. His ears fascinated her, too. Little hairs gave them an almost fuzzy appearance. And the eyes. She'd have to use all her skill to capture the expression in those liquid brown eyes. Her heart rate slowed and her breathing evened out as she became completely absorbed in the task. She hummed softly under her breath. Mac's voice roused her from her intense concentration. "You said you could chat while you draw." "Do you want to chat?" "Not exactly. I want to know what happened." She didn't have to ask what he was talking about. "Nobody knows about this besides Georgie." "You can trust me." "I know." She kept working on the portrait of Jasper. "That's why I asked for your help." "If I'm going to help you, I need to know the story." She'd realized that, too. "Then maybe this is as good a time as any to tell you about it." CHAPTER 3 When Anastasia had said that horses scared her, Mac had thought she had the usual garden-variety fear based on a horse's size and her lack of familiarity with their behavior. Oh, no. He'd signed on to help her with something much bigger. By rights she should see a therapist. But therapists weren't thick on the ground in Bickford. Besides that, she didn't have a lot of time to mess around with driving up to Amarillo or down to Lubbock for sessions. Filming, and the publicity that would go with it, began in three weeks. He hoped his help would be enough. All he could do was his best. So far, this drawing exercise seemed to be working okay. She'd finished one sketch of Jasper and had begun a second. "When I was six," she began, "I'd seen several movies where the girl in the story rode bareback . . . somewhere. Either she was racing over the plains or galloping on the moors or leaping stone walls in Virginia. It looked so easy." Excerpted from Wild about the Wrangler: A Sexy Texans Novel by Vicki Lewis Thompson All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

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Publishers Weekly Review

Thompson's second lighthearted Sexy Texans contemporary (after Crazy for the Cowboy) continues the revitalization of a dying panhandle town, thanks to the tourist draw of Wild Horse Canyon Adventures. Artist Anastasia Bickford draws portraits each day in Sadie's saloon. She also sells drawings of a wild horse called Ghost, based on pictures taken by her good friend Mac Foster, a cowboy who works for the trail ride company. Anastasia wants to overcome her childhood fear of horses and learn to ride so she can attend her sister's wedding in the canyon and see Ghost in the flesh. Mac agrees to teach her, and their proximity overcomes the objections each has to a relationship. Great kisses and hot sex will titillate readers, but the obstacles to the romance are too flimsy to hang a plot on. The minutiae of horse-ridding lessons will tickle horse lovers, but they slow the pace. Agent: Jenny Bent, Bent Agency. (Nov.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

Booklist Review

The second book in Thompson's Sexy Texans series is set six months after Crazy for the Cowboy (2015) and Bickford, Texas, is starting to show signs of recovery, thanks to Vince, Mac, and Travis' efforts with Wild Horse Canyon Adventures. Artist Anastasia Bickford's career is also starting to take off, due in large part to her sketches of the Ghost, the leader of the wild horses. What no one knows is that because of Anastasia's fear of horses, she's never seen the stallion in person, relying, instead, on Mac's photographs. Anastasia and Mac have become close friends since he returned to town. Now that a documentary is set to be filmed in Bickford, Anastasia asks Mac for riding lessons, which soon turn into a whole lot more. Thompson's fans may be disappointed to find that Thompson's oddball characters and snappy humor are missing, but hot cowboys and wild horses have their own charms. Recommend to fans of Cat Johnson and C. H. Admirand who are looking for more chances to save a horse and ride a cowboy.--Quillen, C. L. Copyright 2015 Booklist