The Ashtons - Cole, Abigail & Megan

taste.”
    He laughed. “That’s true. Anything else going on?”
    “Other than treating one of the horses down at the stable for a lacerated fetlock, I really haven’t been doing a lot,” she said, trying to decide if she should bring up Russ asking her to go to the rodeo in Wild Horse Flats with him.
    Normally, she discussed everything with her uncle, listened to his opinion, then made her decisions. But going away for the weekend with a man was a lot more personal than making up her mind whether to become a large-animal veterinarian or which college to attend.
    Deciding that she’d have to explain her absence if she did accept Russ’s invitation, she took a deep breath. “Uncle Grant, have you met Russ Gannon, the vineyard foreman?”
    “No, but I’ve heard a lot of good things about him.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Cole speaks very highly of him. And Eli thinks if Gannon set his mind to it, he could grow grapes on the moon.”
    “I don’t know much about his ability to manage a vineyard, but he is nice,” she murmured, wondering how to proceed. This was one of the rare times Abby missed not having a mother or older sister to talk to.
    Uncle Grant’s green eyes twinkled mischievously. “It sounds to me like he’s made quite an impression on you, Sprite.”
    That’s an understatement, she thought, rising to refill their coffee mugs. “Russ took me horseback riding a few days ago and we had dinner at his place last night.” When she returned to the table, she met her uncle’s curious gaze head on. “And he’s asked me to go with him to a rodeo he’s competing in down in Wild Horse Flats this weekend.”
    “Are you going?” Uncle Grant asked, raising one dark eyebrow as he lifted his cup to take a sip.
    Abby shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
    Slowly setting the mug back on the table, he reached across to cover her hand with his. “Are you asking me what I think you should do?”
    She frowned. Was she asking for his opinion?
    “Not really,” she said, thinking aloud. “I just wanted to let you know so that you don’t worry if I’m not around this weekend.”
    “So you’re considering it?”
    “Yes.”
    “And you’re leaning in that direction?”
    When she nodded, he stared at her for several long moments before he finally spoke. “You might not have asked for my opinion, but I’m going to give it to you anyway.”
    Abby had expected no less of him. “I’m listening.”
    “You’ve always been more like a daughter to me than a niece,” he said, his voice slightly rough. “And the father in me says hell, no, there isn’t a man alive that’s good enough for you.” He paused to clear his throat. “But you’re old enough to know what you want. And you’ve always had a good head on your shoulders.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I trust your judgment, Abby.” He stood up to leave for his meeting. “No matter what choice you make, I know it will be the right one for you.”
    Rising to her feet, she hugged him. “Thank you, Uncle Grant.”
    “You’re welcome, Sprite.” He chuckled as he wrapped her in a bear hug. “Even if I’m not sure what for.”
    Abby kissed his lean cheek. “For always knowing exactly what to say.”
    On Thursday afternoon, Russ had just finished grooming Dancer and started brushing down Blue when Abby walked into the stable. He hadn’t seen her sincedriving her back to the carriage house the night he’d had her over for dinner. And, truth to tell, he wasn’t the least bit surprised that she’d been avoiding him.
    In the past three days, he’d decided that she probably thought he had mush for brains. And he couldn’t say he blamed her. They barely knew each other, had been on one date—if that’s what dinner at his place could be called—and he’d asked her to go away for the weekend. He knew how much she worried about turning out like her mother. What the hell had he been thinking?
    “Hi,” she said, walking up to stand on the other side of Blue.
    Her soft voice sent a shock wave straight through him, and he gripped the brush he held so tightly, he’d probably end up leaving his fingerprints in the wood.
    Damn, but she looked good. Her cinnamon-colored hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, exposing her slender neck and the satiny skin that he’d love to kiss. His body tightened predictably.
    “Hi, yourself,” he finally managed to get out around the cotton coating his throat. “I haven’t seen you for a