“Do all the horses I saw in the pasture belong to you?”
“We board several,” Skip answered. “Some of the others are brought here from around the country for Clay to break and train.”
“You break horses?” She couldn’t conceal her sudden alarm. The image of Clay sitting on a wild bronco that bucked and heaved in a furious effort to unseat him did funny things to Rorie’s stomach.
“Breaking horses isn’t exactly the way Hollywood pictures show it,” Clay explained.
Rorie was about to ask him more when Skip planted his elbows on the table and leaned forward. Once again Rorie was assaulted by the overpowering scent of his aftershave. She did her best to smile, but if he remained in that position much longer, her eyes would start watering. Already she could feel a sneeze tickling her nose.
“How old are you, Rorie?” he asked.
The question was so unexpected that she was too surprised to answer immediately. Then she said, “Twenty-four.”
“And you live in San Francisco. Is your family there, too?”
“No. My parents moved to Arizona and my brother’s going to school back east.”
“And you’re not engaged or anything?”
As Rorie shook her head, Clay shot his brother an exasperated look. “Are you interviewing Rorie for the Independent?”
“No. I was just curious.”
“She’s too old for you, little brother.”
“I don’t know about that,” Skip returned fervently. “I’ve always liked my women more mature. Besides, Rorie’s kind of cute.”
“Kind of?”
Skip shrugged. “You know what I mean. She doesn’t act like a city girl…much.”
Rorie’s eyes flew from one brother to the next. They were talking as if she wasn’t even in the room, and that annoyed her—especially since she was the main topic of conversation.
Unaware of her reaction, Skip helped himself to another roll. “Actually, I thought she might be closer to twenty. With some women it’s hard to tell.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Rorie muttered to no one in particular.
“My apologies, Rorie,” Clay said contritely. “We were being rude.”
She took time buttering her biscuit. “Apology accepted.”
“How old do you think I am?” Skip asked her, his eyes wide and hopeful.
It was Rorie’s nature to be kind, and besides, Skip had saved her from an unknown fate. “Twenty,” she answered with barely a pause.
The younger Franklin straightened and sent his brother a smirk. “I was seventeen last week.”
“That surprises me,” Rorie continued, setting aside her butter knife and swallowing a smile. “I could’ve sworn you were much older.”
Looking even more pleased with himself, Skip cleared his throat. “Lots of girls think that.”
“Don’t I remember you telling me you’re helping Luke Rivers tonight?” Clay reminded his brother.
Skip’s face fell. “I guess I did.”
“If Rorie doesn’t mind, I’ll introduce her to King.”
Clay’s offer appeared to surprise Skip, and Rorie studied the boy, a little worried now about causing problems between the two brothers. Nor did she want to disappoint Skip, who had offered first.
“But I thought…” Skip began, then swallowed. “You want to take Rorie?”
Clay’s eyes narrowed, and when he spoke, his voice was cool. “That’s what I just said. Is there a problem?”
“No…of course not.” Skip stuffed half a biscuit in his mouth and shook his head vigorously. After a moment of chewing, he said, “Clay will show you around the stable.” His words were measured and even, but his gaze held his brother’s.
“I heard,” Rorie said gently. She could only speculate on what was going on between them, but obviously something was amiss. There’d been more than a hint of surprise in Skip’s eyes at Clay’s offer. She noticed that the younger Franklin seemed angry. Because his vanity was bruised? Rorie supposed so. “I could wait until tomorrow if you want, Skip,” she suggested.
“No, that’s all right,” he answered, lowering his eyes. “Clay can do it, since that’s what he seems to want.”
When they finished the meal, Rorie cleared the table, but Mary refused to let her help with cleaning up the kitchen.
“You’d just be in the way,” she grumbled, though her eyes weren’t unfriendly. “Besides, I heard the boys were showing you the barn.”