After washing up at the stainless steel sink in the mudroom, she headed for the kitchen. Wes was at the island, his head bent over his iPad as he finished up his breakfast with a cup of coffee. “Hey. How are things out there?” Since he hadn’t stood to give her a hug, she wrapped her arms around his neck and laid her cheek on the top of his head. Her husband was a small-framed man, but solid muscle. “Want to come out with me when you’re finished with that coffee? We’ve got a couple horses that could use some work this morning.” His answer was a sigh. “I’m pretty sore after the weekend.” His gaze dropped back to the iPad, that had gone dark. “Not that I have anything to show for my aches and bruises.” “Bad draws?” She had years of practice at saying the right, sympathetic thing. The score in the rodeo ring was only fifty percent under the cowboy’s control. The bulls were assigned by random draws—and not all of them were star performers.
