The Ashtons - Cole, Abigail & Megan

Cole had vivid memories of trying to teach Dixie how to drive a standard transmission. He ran a hand over the girth. “Seems tight, but Trouble has a bad habit of holding his breath.” He went to his horse, who was trying to snatch a bite of grass.
    “Don’t you trust me to get it right?” she demanded.
    “Did you saddle them?” The girth was fine.
    She flashed a dimple at him. “No.”
    He laughed. “I didn’t think so.”
    “So I’m not a cowgirl. I did make the picnic food. We’ve got a beef and sausage tart, marinated baby veggies and—hey!”
    Tilly rounded the front corner of the building at a dead run. Trouble sidestepped, throwing his head back. Cole grabbed for the reins. “Damn that cat of yours! Let go before he pulls you off!”
    But it wasn’t Dixie’s cat in pursuit this time. It was a Doberman.
    Tilly made for Cole, who was trying to keep Trouble from trampling both of them. Cole hollered at theDoberman, hoping to scare him off—which scared Tilly, who yelped and retreated.
    The Doberman slowed but was growling, hackles raised, looking as if he meant to rip out Tilly’s throat. Caroline’s mare was normally a placid creature, but this was too much for her. She reared. Dixie slid off just as the Doberman hurled himself at Tilly.
    And Hulk launched himself at the Doberman.
    The cat seemed to have come out of nowhere. He landed on the dog’s shoulders and rode him like a bronc buster—only with claws instead of a saddle for purchase. They served him well. The Doberman yelped and yelped again as he began running in circles.
    Trouble was panicked, trying to get away. Cole didn’t dare let go, but he wanted desperately to check on Dixie, who was sitting up, cradling her arm. “Are you all right?” he called.
    A man came around the corner—large, red faced and yelling. “Dammit, Mustard, I said—hey! Get your cat off my dog!”
    Cole swung toward him. “You’re the owner of this animal?”
    “Damn right I am, and if he’s hurt, you’ll be hearing from me!”
    Hulk made his own dismount, a graceful leap to the ground followed by a bounce up to a high windowsill. Which was probably where he’d come from in the first place. The Doberman beat a quick retreat to his owner, tail between his legs.
    Cole, still gripping Trouble’s reins, advanced on the red-faced man, who was checking his trembling dog for wounds. “That dog,” he said softly, “very nearly caused a disaster. What is your name, sir?”
    “Ralph Endicott. But you can’t go blaming it all on my poor Mustard. He’s bleeding, dammit!”
    Cole glanced down. The wounds weren’t serious, but puncture wounds did need to be treated properly. “Then you’ll take him to a vet.”
    “Which you are going to pay for! That stupid mutt running around loose caused all this. Mustard wouldn’t have gotten away from me if—”
    “My name,” Cole interrupted, his voice very soft and very cold, “is Cole Ashton. My dog is allowed to roam the grounds of my winery and vineyard. Yours is not. I require the name of your insurance company. And your lawyer, if you have one.”
    The color drained from the man’s face. “Insurance? Lawyer? Now, see here, there’s no need for all that.”
    “There damn sure is!” Dixie marched up, face glowing with wrath. “Your failure to control your animal is negligent, possibly criminal! I’ve sprained my wrist! I can’t paint with a sprained wrist. Do you know how much this delay is going to cost Louret? My time alone is worth several thousand, and if this messes up their ad schedule, the television time already purchased will run to—hey, come back here!”
    But the man was in full flight, one hand grippinghis dog’s collar as he hurried back around the building, heading for the parking lot, and escape.
    “You’d better take care of your dog!” Dixie hollered after him.
    That night, Cole and Dixie lay in a sweaty heap in the bed at the carriage house, talking about Tilly’s adventure. Dixie’s sprained wrist had forced them to be inventive in their lovemaking. The results had been memorable.
    “I ought to have sued that man,” she grumbled. “This wrist is going to put me behind.”
    Cole was just glad a sprained wrist was all the hurt she’d taken. When he’d seen her go sailing off the mare’s back…“You frightened him badly enough already,” he said soothingly.
    “I was just following your lead. Did you see the way the blood drained from his face when you