"Where the hell did you get these?" Trevor demanded.

Things were back to normal between the ranch owner and his adventure coordinator a few days later. They currently stood together outside her cabin staring at the formidable scrap heap Sabrina had managed to pile up while he was out mending a fence that morning.

Trevor took his hat off and rubbed his scalp in dismay. "What is all this? It looks like a goddamned funeral pyre. Please tell me you aren't upcycling a jungle gym. A kid could get tetanus just by looking at this mess." He indicated the mangled iron bed frames with a point of his hat.

"Aren't they beautiful?" Sabrina enthused. She was either completely oblivious to the moody storm cloud he had brought in with him from the field or was deliberately ignoring it. He wasn't sure which irritated him more, to be frank. "I found them in the junkyard just across the street. Pete let me borrow his truck to bring them in, since you were out with yours." She ran a finger along the iron tracery of a half-intact frame. "I'm going to use them in the bedrooms—once they're all pieced together and finished, anyway. These will make perfect king-size headboards for all the beds. I think these will add just the right touch of romance that's been lacking so far in our glampers' accommodations. Glad I got up early!" She concluded with a joyful—and he suspected slightly over-caffeinated—laugh.

As always, Trevor found Sabrina's elaborate plans hard to follow. What he had no trouble zeroing in on was her claim of a junkyard. "What do you mean you went across the street?" he asked her slowly.

"Oh, come on." Sabrina attempted to wave off his question. "If you have a problem with me leaving the property during billable hours, you should have said so in one of your many, many lists, and I could have won this argument sooner."

"What I have a problem with is you trespassing on the neighbors’ land!" Trevor exploded. "That property across the street is not a junkyard!"

"Sure it is!" Sabrina exclaimed. "The one with the busted old mailbox? It's obviously an unplumbed gold mine for upcyclers like me. I'm doing them a favor by dragging one or ten old bedframes off their hands!"

Trevor needed a moment to compose himself before he elaborated on her grave mistake, and a buzz from his back pocket provided him with the perfect distraction. He cursed under his breath and turned away. He would let Sabrina temporarily think she had won their argument as he read the text from his brother.

Hey, so you know, the Millers called the station earlier. Said some property of theirs has gone missing. Something about beds? Don't be surprised if Old Mrs. Miller leaves her hovel and comes asking about it.

"Do you…" Trevor struggled to get the words out. He slid his phone back into his pocket, text unanswered, and fought to keep his breathing even. "Do you have any idea what you've just done?" he finally managed.

Sabrina cocked her head at him. "You know, you weren't this dramatic about the wood pile," she mentioned. "What gives?"

"That 'unplumbed gold mine' you claim to have discovered is the Miller family’s private residence!" he hissed through his teeth. "The Millers are hoarders, Sabrina, and infamous throughout Lockhart Bend for their situation. My brother just informed me that they put a call into the sheriff's office to report their property stolen!"

"Well…I'm happy to help them clean up their yard a bit by taking any unwanted items off their hands," Sabrina stated. "And if they want this stuff back, I’ll load the truck up again and drive it back over there. All I have to do is offer an explanation, right? I'll apologize for my mistake, let them know I'm new to town. Heck, I might even take the opportunity to pass out a few fliers while I'm over there—"

"Are you even listening to me?" Trevor shouted. "The police report's already been filed! Do you think I have any free time to deal with this today? Odds are I'll have to drag you over there and sort this thing out and hope that having a sheriff brother counts for something!"

Sabrina waved a dismissive hand at him. "Trent will understand. It was all a misunderstanding," she repeated. "And anyway, I thought you would appreciate my efforts to recycle. All the rental cabins are in desperate need of a makeover. I was only trying to save you money, and save you the hassle of worrying about where those furnishings would come from! A little support wouldn't go amiss!"

Trevor growled at her response. He couldn't help his own temper, and he sure as hell didn't appreciate her trying to turn the tables on him and make him the bad guy, considering he wasn't the one implicated in a goddamned robbery. He yanked his work gloves off and slapped them against his thigh, just for something to hit; they tracked a dirt smear on his already filthy Wranglers.

"You know why I really think you're mad?" Sabrina continued suddenly, unexpectedly. Her blue eyes narrowed as she scrutinized him, and Trevor didn't think he liked this shift, not one bit. "I think you're mad because you took a peek at my reservation list and saw that your ex-girlfriend is currently occupying the top slot."

"Who the hell told you about Marcy?" he demanded. It was futile to claim at this point that he hadn't looked, but Marcy had nothing to do with this…this….

"She did," Sabrina stated defiantly. "She told me she felt awkward booking a reservation but wanted to show her support for Wildhorse and the new program. That's why she specifically asked for one of the remoter cabins on the property—which, it so happens, is in dire need of a new bed. Please don't tell me you intend to sabotage your own program just because you—"

"Because I what?" Trevor interrupted.

Sabrina expelled a sigh of frustration and threw up her hands. "Because you still have feelings for her!" she exclaimed. "There, I said it! Marcy and I both tiptoed around your past relationship while we were on the phone together, but she obviously felt comfortable enough with the idea of being here that she was the first to book an overnight!"

"You think I have feelings for Marcy?" he growled. "You think that's why you and I are fighting? If that's the case, then you've already lost this round."

"I don't think I've lost anything!" Sabrina persisted. "In fact, I don't see you offering up anything in the way of proof that I'm completely, totally wrong in my—"

Trevor dropped his gloves and hat and seized her around the waist. Sabrina broke off in shock as he pulled her in against him. Her hands flew to his chest, but there was no warding off his advance, his indomitable strength. They collided at the hips, and before Sabrina could draw another breath, the rancher swooped in and put a stop to her words—catching her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he kissed her.

Kissing Sabrina in a fit of passion banished thoughts of any other woman completely. Those soft, pink lips that drove him crazy practically any time they parted to speak now parted against his mouth in a breathless gasp. Sabrina slipped her arms around his neck, and Trevor advanced seamlessly into the next stage at her signal. What had started as a tactic to shut her up, to prove to her just how over Marcy he was, had escalated without his consent in the matter—and he wouldn't have it any other way. Their near-miss in the barn after the first glamping trial had nagged at him ever since.

Now he knew what he had been missing. Trevor drew her harder against him, and she came unresisting, her fingers clutching at the dark crop of his hair. His tongue swept along the voluptuous curve of her bottom lip. She tasted warm and safe, like the brand of coffee he'd favored since his first taste of the stuff. He slipped his tongue past her lips, past the perfect teeth that formed that perfect, ambitious smile, and Sabrina moaned quietly against him. His tongue slid along the length of hers, parrying each thrust. If she intended to drive him out, she underestimated his commitment to winning their argument…

If only he could remember what the terms were.

When he had satisfied himself, Trevor withdrew, expelling a hot gasp as he went. Sabrina lingered in his arms and rested her forehead against his chin. After filling the property with their raised voices for the last half hour, the yard felt strangely silent. Trevor wet his lips and was about to speak, but Sabrina beat him to the punch.

"Do you…want to come up to my cabin?" she asked him quietly.

* * *

I really shouldn't be doing this, Trevor thought as he ducked beneath the doorway of Sabrina's bunkhouse. It's not even noon yet. Didn't I expressly tell her I don't have time for distractions today?

But he was like a willingly broke horse on the other end of an invisible lead, and Sabrina was calling the shots. After a kiss like that, he would damn near follow her anywhere….

Sabrina moved into the kitchen to brew a fresh pot of coffee. He momentarily considered following her and putting any harried thought of hospitality to rest with a suggestive placement of his hands in a few choice spots along her trim little body…but he refrained. Like it or not, he could still summon the willpower to suppress most of his baser urges, even if Sabrina was making it harder by the day—in more ways than one. He hovered awkwardly by the kitchen's island, unsure if he should sit or stand. He finally settled on sitting. He pulled out a stool that was too small for his long legs and set his hat to the side. After a moment, Sabrina turned back around and placed a mug of coffee in front of him. He didn't reach for it immediately.

"So," she said.

"So."

"I'll return the bed frames," she offered.

"And I'll deal with Trent," Trevor said. "You want to wait around a bit, you can likely talk him into returning them for you. He has more experience dealing with the Millers, and if we explain the situation to him…well." He kicked at a loose floorboard with the toe of his boot. "He'll likely come up with something to get them to drop the charges. He's the type to bend the rules for a pretty face."

"Guess that's another thing you Wild brothers don't have in common," Sabrina said casually.

Trevor flushed. It wasn't with anger, exactly, but the intense heat she had aroused in him had to escape somewhere.

"Something on your mind?" he asked pointedly. He didn't want to do this dance with her. What were the odds of them returning to the way things were before, after a kiss like that? "If so, you should come out and say it," he continued. "I make my living playing by the rules. The success of this ranch and the lives tied to it depend on my rules. But that doesn't mean I feel the need to deny myself everything."

"That kiss…" Sabrina's lovely face lapsed into a faraway expression. Trevor studied it intensely. The eager way her mouth had moved against his only moments ago told him he wasn't the only one struggling with an attraction, but he wanted to hear her say it. "That kiss was something else," she arrived at finally. Her fingers clenched over her mug. "But I'm not sure we should repeat it."

In contrast, Trevor was damn sure they would.

"I mean, it's not that I didn't enjoy it. I really, really enjoyed it." She reached up to brush a disheveled strand of hair out of her eyes. "God, I feel like you're making me lose my mind."

"I'm making you lose your mind?" he repeated with a raised eyebrow.

Sabrina shook your head. "You're right. We have to stop clashing like this…and that's why I invited you here. I have an idea about how to defuse the situation."

Trevor had more than one idea on that front, and he was willing to spend the afternoon trying them all out on her. Forget the damn work schedule. His blood started pumping as she came around to his side of the bar. He was just about to take her in his arms and carry her into the back bedroom when she slapped a pamphlet down in front of him. Trevor blinked. After a moment, he shifted to get a better look at it.

"We'll deal with the bedframes, like you said," Sabrina said. "I'll fix my mistake—even though they would make great atmospheric décor and are only going to waste otherwise—and apologize to Trent and the Millers. And then I want us to try this out. As a team-building exercise."

"Team-building exercise?" Trevor tapped the brochure. “This is a riding competition.”

Sabrina nodded. "Yeah. A team competition. Everyone who works here has to participate. And it's not only for the benefit of the ranch staff; the benefits will trickle down to our campers. We can take what we learn and our experience with the activities and find a way to apply those same activities and philosophies to our glamping program."

"And it was my kiss that inspired you to bring this up?" he asked, amused despite himself.

Sabrina blushed. "It might have tripped a light bulb. Or several. At the very least, it reminded me that we get a lot more accomplished when we're…in sync."

Trevor studied the curves of her body as she moved back into the tiny kitchen. He couldn’t discuss business just yet—he was still lost in the memory of having her folded against him.

"This rodeo is down the road from here." Trevor set the pamphlet down and eased back in his stool, crossing one arm over the other. "Most of the hands participate in it every year anyway. Should be easy enough to get them behind the idea of forming a team, even if it isn't exactly billed as a team-building exercise."

Sabrina leaned across the counter and grinned. "So, you'll sign us up?" she said.

"And pay the entry fee, I assume," Trevor muttered.

"I'll pay the entry fee."

"Fine," he agreed. "We'll enter."

Sabrina gave a small cry of excitement; she leapt up and pumped her fist. A rare smile curved across Trevor's face. He reached across the counter to shake on it, and the moment Sabrina's fingers slipped inside his own, he gripped them tight. "On one condition," he added. "You're going to be my partner in the rescue race."

"The…rescue race?" Sabrina echoed. Her unfamiliarity didn’t diminish her own smile. "What is that? Like a relay race?"

"You might call it that," he answered mysteriously as he rose. "Meet me in the arena at sunset. And wear some damn jeans you can ride in."

"And if I can convince the Millers to let me keep the bedframes?" she asked hopefully.

Trevor snorted. Fat chance of that, but he couldn't help relenting in the face of her optimistic expression. As he headed out the door, he caught sight of something hanging above the doorway. It was a five-pointed, silver star. After losing every argument, culminating in a kiss that proved a significant lapse in his self-control, he felt a sudden need to reassert some authority.

"At the very least take this down," he remarked as he reached for it. "We're not decorating for Christmas this early."

"No!" Sabrina lunged after him. The shrill, desperate quality to her voice stopped him dead in his tracks. He froze, hand hovering over the ornament. She spoke more calmly. "I'm sorry, it's just that…my grandfather gave that to me. It's important."

"Why is it important?" he asked curiously. He could tell by her tone that she wasn't lying. He gazed at her critically, but Sabrina did everything in her power not to meet his eyes.

"If we win the riding competition…then I'll tell you," she promised. "But only if we win."

"Then I expect you to be out at the arena promptly this evening," he said. "Before sundown," he added over his shoulder as he shoved the door open. "That's at seven—"

"Seven-thirty. I know." Sabrina smiled ruefully and pointed toward her refrigerator. "You made a list about it, remember? I know when the sun sets, down to the minute, every single day for the next three months."

Trevor nodded in approval. He replaced his hat atop his head and started back across the lawn, skirting the pile of iron frames that had pried open this can of worms. If only the Millers knew the damn mess they've inspired around here. They'd sure as hell be proud, he mused.

The memory of Sabrina's lips preoccupied him for the rest of the work day. More than once, he found a horse shying from him or a tool slipping out of his grasp due to his errant thoughts.

He couldn't shake the impression that Sabrina had purposefully distracted him with the riding competition. He wondered if she had needed time to get her own thoughts about what had happened between them in order. He sure as hell couldn't claim to know what the next step was.

Guess we'll find out one way or another, he mused. He rose from his last task of the day and wiped the sweat from his brow. The gloves came off, and he slapped the dust off them against the outside of his thigh as he looked off toward the horizon. The sun sank slowly towards the distant hills, casting the Texas skyline in a ruby-red hue that darkened to a glorious amber the closer evening crept.

Trevor replaced his hat. Then he started toward the arena.