Tucker closed the door behind them. “Probably not Jose, one of my trainers. He’s an old coot who doesn’t trust computers, much less social media, so you’re not likely to get his photo. The others—we’ll have to see. Jose’s wife is Lupe, and they live on an acre of my property, closer to the Superstitions.”
The Border collies trotted up to meet them, and Ellie rubbed behind each dog’s ears as she greeted them.
A soft breeze lifted Ellie’s hair off her shoulders as she straightened. “Your sister is your bookkeeper?”
He gave a nod as they crossed the circular drive, the dogs at his heels. “She has her own place that she runs, too, so she just does the bookkeeping and payroll. My assistant, Carrie, handles most of the communication and any business I don’t need to address personally.”
They stopped, and Tucker nodded toward a corral, where a man of about thirty was working with a young mare. “While I show you around, I’ll introduce you to Luke, one of my trainers.”
Ellie took in the massive structure before them. “That must be your stables.” A gust of wind whipped her hair into her face.
“Yep.” Tucker reached out and brushed the hair away from her eyes before she had a chance to. His fingertips trailed over her cheek, and their gazes held for a long moment before he broke the link and indicated the stables with a nod. “First, I’ll introduce you to the horses.”
They walked together toward the massive stables, a huge barn to its right. She couldn’t find the words to say anything for a long moment. His touch had unnerved her and set her off-balance, which was unusual for her. She was rarely at a loss for words.
The stables’ and the barn’s exteriors were painted Wedgewood-blue, and giant juniper trees ran alongside each side of the buildings.
“Hold on.” Ellie stopped and pulled her phone out of her pocket. Tucker stood beside her as she took pictures of the buildings. She lowered her phone and looked at Tucker. “I’ll bring my camera out and take pictures around your property, but I want to get some today.”
“Sounds good,” he said as they headed the rest of the way to the stables.
The dirt they walked over was hard-packed from years of use. “How long have you owned this ranch?”
Tucker lifted his hat and pushed his fingers through his hair. It was mahogany-brown with hints of red that caught the sunlight as he thought about her question. He tugged his hat back down. “Hell, it’s going on eleven years now.”
Her brows knitted. “How old are you?”
He stopped in the stables’ doorway and looked at her. “Thirty-five.”
“You were only twenty-four when you bought this place.” She tipped her head to the side. “That’s pretty amazing.”
He shrugged. “It started out as a small operation, but it’s grown over the years, and we’re good-sized now with a solid business.” His lips twisted in amusement. “Now that you know how old I am, how about you return the favor?”
Ellie tossed her hair over her shoulder and tipped her chin as she spoke in an aristocratic English accent. “Sir, you should never ask a lady her age.” Then she broke out into a grin and reverted to her normal voice. “I don’t mind you asking. I’m twenty-eight.” She was seven years younger than he, not too big of an age gap.
He winked, and her tummy flipped. “Come, meet everyone.”
They walked into the cool recesses of the stables. Light poured through skylights all the way down the aisle. It was bigger inside than she’d thought, and the sounds of horses whickering and making soft noises carried through the building.
“I raise Quarter horses.” The first stall held a gorgeous red mare with a big belly. He rested his arms on the top of the stall. “This is Sunshine, one of my prize breeding mares.”
Ellie glanced at Tucker. “When is she due?”
“About two weeks.” He cocked his head. “Have you been around horses much?”
She grinned. “I grew up with them. Started out on a pony when I was three and graduated to a sweet mare named Sandy when I was six. By the time I was ten, I was learning barrel racing.”
Tucker looked surprised. “Where did you grow up?”
Ellie inclined her head in the general direction of her hometown. “On a cattle ranch outside of King Creek.”
He studied her. “I never got your last name.”
“I never got yours,” she said, “but considering this is Rawlings Ranch, I’m assuming yours is Rawlings.”
He gave a nod, and she continued. “My last name is McLeod.”
“I know a few McLeods.” He shifted to face her. “Are you related to Jace and Tanner McLeod?”
