The Ashtons - Cole, Abigail & Megan

here in the stable?”
    “Of course,” he said, bending to coat the mare’s heel with a good amount of the lubricant. “Do you intend to soak it or apply a hot compress after running cold water over the area?”
    “I’m going to apply a hot compress in order to draw out bacteria.” She paused. “By the way, do you have hot water out here, as well?”
    Nodding, he stood up and handed her the jar of petroleum jelly. “I’ll get it while you cold hose the mare’s leg.”
    “That’s not necessary,” she said, smiling. “Just tell me where to find—”
    “I’ll take care of it,” Russ said firmly.
    He might not be as educated or refined as the Ashtons, but he did have manners. He wasn’t about to stand by and watch a woman struggle with a heavy bucket of water.
    Besides, he needed to put a little distance between them. Every time she turned her killer smile his way, certain parts of his body twitched and his heart felt like it was going to beat a hole in his rib cage.
    He took a deep breath and did his best to regain his perspective. If he didn’t get a hold on the situation, he just might have to use the cold water hose on himself.
    An hour later, Russ watched Abby finish applying a poultice to the mare’s fetlock, then wrap a bandage around it to hold it in place. Fortunately, Marsanne was a very well-mannered horse and tolerated the treatment without further injury to herself, Abby or him.
    “I’ll check on her again tomorrow morning and apply a fresh dressing, but I think she’ll be fine,” Abby said, standing up.
    When she ran her hand along the horse’s hindquarters, Russ swallowed hard. How would her delicate hands feel on his skin?
    His heart slammed against his ribs. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d met her a little over an hour ago and he was fantasizing about her touching him?
    Oh, brother, did he ever need that trip into town for a cold beer and a willing woman—and not necessarily in that order.
    When she’d pulled the sleeves of her sweater back down to her wrists and shrugged into her blue jean jacket, she turned and stuck out her hand. “It was nice meeting you, Russ.”
    He automatically took her hand in his, but the moment their palms touched, he knew he’d made a serious error in judgment. An electric charge zinged up his arm, through his upper body, then traveled down to the region south of his belt buckle.
    “I’ll see you around,” he managed, although he wasn’t sure how the words made it through the cotton coating his throat.
    “Are you feeling all right?” she asked, dropping his hand faster than he could blink. Her breathless tone and the pretty shade of pink coloring her creamy cheeks indicated that she’d felt it, too.
    Good. At least he wasn’t the only one suffering the unsettling sensation.
    “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, fighting to keep from grinning. “How about you?”
    She lifted her little chin and squared her slender shoulders as she started around him and the mare. “I couldn’t be better.”
    Russ bit back a groan as he watched Abby walk the distance to the stable doors. The woman had legs that would tempt a eunuch. And his body was reminding him that was one thing he definitely was not.
    Disgusted with himself and his own foolishness, he led Marsanne back into her stall, then headed toward the end of the stable where he kept his own horses, Blue and Dancer. Even if the woman was willing to indulge in a little vacation fun, he wasn’t.
    Number one, she was an Ashton, and his sense of loyalty and obligation just wouldn’t allow him to disappoint Caroline or Lucas in any way. He snorted. And number two, what the hell could a book-smart beautylike Abby find appealing about a simple man with nothing more going for him than a knack for growing grapes and the ability to make the eight-second whistle when he rode bulls?

Chapter Two
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    “T hank you for the tour, Mercedes,” Abby said, as she and Caroline’s oldest daughter entered the Louret Vineyards tasting room.
    Director of Marketing and Public Relations for the Sheppards’ boutique winery, Mercedes Ashton smiled. “Oh, it’s not over yet. The best is yet to come.” She pointed to a small table by a floor-to-ceiling window. “Have a seat and I’ll be right back.”
    Seating herself at the table Mercedes had indicated, Abby couldn’t help but marvel at the ambience of the tasting room. The use of rich woods and muted lighting was extremely romantic, but the view of the