Learning to Ride Read Online Free Page B

morning, Miss Harper. This is Eddie with Home on the Range Properties. Is this a good time?”
    Madeline almost laughed. Oh, sure, it was a fantastic time. Couldn’t be better. “It is,” she replied, deciding not to indulge the need to have a nervous breakdown.
    “I’ve got some good news this time around. Your rental house is finally ready. Is there a good time for me to drop off the keys for you?”
    It was about time. Apparently Sunnybell didn’t believe in anything as practical as apartments, so she’d been forced to wait until a suitable rental house became free. The timing, however, couldn’t have been better. It was her excuse to escape and regroup, and she grasped it like the lifeline it was. “You know what? Stay where you are. I’ll come to you.”
    Mr. Westerfield, her job, and the busybodies of this town would just have to wait. She had a house to move into. She’d spend the weekend hiding out there and then maybe, if she was very, very lucky, this whole thing would blow over by Monday.
    And maybe it would rain diamonds, too.
      
    Life on the rodeo circuit wasn’t glamorous, but it was a hell of a lot more exciting than Tanner’s new life, that was for damn sure. Trudging through the aisles of Harrison Hardware and Supply Company on a Saturday morning with a neatly ordered list written out by his grandmother and double-checked by Grandpa Jack was not his idea of a good time.
    But he had made a promise to them. If they wanted him to pick up a half dozen new feed buckets and a “cushier”-handled garden trowel, then by God, he’d do it. Honestly, he’d do just about anything for either one of them.
    As he turned the corner into the garden tool aisle, he came to an abrupt halt, his eyes widening. Before him stood Miss New York herself, her blond hair tucked in a short ponytail and her long legs on display beneath a pair of green-and-white polka-dot shorts.
    The mere sight of her made his pulse kick up. The night they’d spent together had seemed too good to be true. A slow smile turned up the corners of his mouth. He didn’t know why she was still in town, but he had never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
    Sauntering over to where she stood staring at rakes as if they were a foreign language, he said, “Afternoon. Shopping for souvenirs, are we?”
    She sucked in a surprised breath and whirled to face him. Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink as she locked eyes with him. “Souvenirs?”
    He grinned and picked up one of the rakes, turning it in his hands a few times. “Well, I don’t imagine those New York City stores sell many gardening tools.”
    Since her car hadn’t been in the motel parking lot that morning, he’d thought she was already on her way back. He hadn’t expected to run into her again, but, seeing her now in her cute little shorts and her off-the-shoulder sweatshirt made him glad he’d been wrong.
    Narrowing her eyes, she reached out and chose a different rake. “You can get anything in New York,” she said, her voice cool and her words clipped. “And no, this is not a souvenir. This is a tool to improve the atrocious state of my lawn, thank you very much.”
    Her lawn? He took a cautious step back. “Do you commute to the city then?”
    She gave a half laugh, half snort. “Kind of hard to commute to the city from here, cowboy.”
    He stiffened. What in the world was she talking about? Wariness straightened his spine as he set the handle of the rake against the concrete floor. “Here meaning…?”
    She gestured vaguely around them. “Here,” she said, as though the meaning should be obvious. Her hand settled at her hip as she turned accusing eyes on him. “Speaking of which, why the hell didn’t you tell me you were some sort of local celebrity?”
    “Whoa,” he said, holding up his free hand, palm out. “Hold on there. I don’t remember you being real keen to exchange biographies and resumes out on the dance floor, or between the sheets, for