She stopped in her tracks when she saw the mess of mud and hair and occasional spots of blood that had been left in the claw-footed tub, the pile of thorns and burrs heaped in the wastebasket.

It had taken some doing, but Hank finally had the animal in decent shape.

He noticed that Ally didn’t come any closer than the door frame when she set eyes on the golden retriever. “What’s that thing doing in here?”

“Getting a bath,” he said shortly.

Ally propped her hands on her slender hips and wrinkled her nose. “And that smell?” she asked.

“Wet dog and my shampoo,” he explained.

Ally studied the heap of wet towels next to the tub and made another face. “Ugh.”

Hank passed up the opportunity to reassure her he planned to clean everything. Instead, he leveled a matter-of-fact glance her way. “Where’s your pal Penderson?” he asked.

She tensed. “He left.”

Slowly, Hank got to his feet and braced his own hands on his waist. “Tell me you’re not selling to Corporate Farms.”

Ally flushed uncomfortably. “I’m not selling to anyone until I’ve had a chance to have the property appraised,” she told him quietly.

That made sense from a business point of view, he noted. “When is that going to happen?”

Her pretty chin took on a stubborn line. “A broker from Premier Realty in Laramie is coming out later this week, once I’ve had a chance to get the ranch house in order.”

Wishing she’d stop looking so damn kissable, Hank pushed his desire aside and forced himself to concentrate on the very important business at hand. “And once you know what the property is worth?”

Ally swept a hand through her sleek cap of honey-blond hair. “As in all competitions,” she replied, tucking the silky strands behind her ear, “the highest bid wins.” She let her hand fall to her side and regarded the retriever with a disgruntled frown. “I really wish you hadn’t brought him up here.”