by Kit Morgan
“That’s nice. Do you like it here?”
Melanie nodded. “I do.” She shot Casey a warning glare.
Casey wanted to smack her, but she knew her penchant for blurting things out without thinking, and so did Melanie. It wouldn’t do to say she liked it too when she’d barely set foot in the place. She settled for a smile and a nod.
“Glad to hear it.” He tossed his head at the gate. “I’ll just mosey over to the office, then.” He flashed them a brilliant smile. “See you later.”
They nodded, mesmerized by the way he sauntered to the gate, opened it and stepped through.
Melanie broke the spell with a groan. “Oh no, I still have my helmet on!”
Casey laughed as Melanie undid her chin strap and pulled her helmet off to reveal her long blonde hair plastered against her head “Trust me, you were better off with it on.”
“Thanks a lot.” Melanie tucked her helmet under her arm and tousled her hair with her free hand. “I have to take care of Georgie. Want to come? You can help me give him a bath.”
A bath? That didn’t sound very appealing, but if she hung out long enough, she might get another peek at the cute cowboy before her lesson. If she was lucky enough to get a lesson. “Okay. So long as I don’t get drenched.”
“You won’t if you’re careful.” Melanie headed for the gate. Casey noticed she was going the long way around. She’d seen enough to know that the horse stalls, tack rooms, break room and everything else was more accessible from the other end of the arena. Going this way meant walking past the office though, which also meant Casey wasn’t the only one that wanted to grab another look.
“If you really want to take riding lessons,” Melanie said conversationally as they passed through the gate, “why not take them from someplace closer to home?”
“Because you’re here,” Casey said. “Besides, what if someone that knows Dad rides there, spots me and rats me out?”
Melanie slowed as they approached the office. “I guess you’re right, but this place is sure out of your way.”
“As much as it is yours,” Casey countered. Both lived on Manhattan’s Upper East Side. They’d met as freshmen in high school, made their debut together, gone to the same college of arts and graduated at the same time. Now they had both embarked on their respective careers – Melanie as a fashion photographer, Casey as a designer. They worked a lot together and knew a lot of the same people.
The riding stable, however, was located in Brooklyn, in a neighborhood no one would expect. There were other stables much closer to them, but Melanie had chosen this one for its location near a number of riding trails. Casey picked it because Melanie hadn’t fallen off a horse and landed in the hospital – that had to count for something, right?
“I wonder who he is,” Melanie remarked offhandedly.
Casey glanced through the office’s plate-glass window and saw Mr. Cowboy chatting up Miss Williams, who was the manager as well as one of the instructors. “I wonder if she thinks he’s cute.”
Melanie giggled. “Who wouldn’t? But she’s too old for him.”
Casey arched an eyebrow. “You never know – Miss Williams might be a cougar.”
Melanie stopped dead in her tracks and looked over her shoulder at the office, now behind them. “Miss Williams? Not a chance.”
Casey shrugged and kept walking. “You never know.” Now ahead of Melanie, she turned and walked backwards. “Bet she can tell you what he’s doing here.”
Melanie made a face. “It’s none of our business.”
“You know you want to,” Casey teased.
Melanie stopped again. “No, you want to. But that doesn’t matter because you’re not going to be around.”
“Yes, I am.” Casey spun on her heel and walked on. “I just paid for six lessons.”
“Lessons your dad will make you quit if he catches wind of it,” Melanie called after her.
“If.” In truth, Casey didn’t want to talk about it anymore. If Melanie didn’t stop pestering her, she’d be tempted to leave … but then, that was exactly what Melanie wanted. She turned and glanced at her friend who continued to trail behind, probably hoping that Mr. Cowboy would emerge from the office before they made it to the wash area.
If she did, she wasn’t disappointed. Miss Williams came out first, followed by Mr. Cowboy. He stopped and looked at them, then flashed that brilliant smile again. Casey tried not to smile back.
Melanie, on the other hand … “Casey’s going to help me bathe Georgie,” she called to Miss Williams. “In case you want her, you know where to find her.”
Miss Williams quickly nodded and waved, then continued toward the arena, Mr. Cowboy on her heels. He turned one last time and smiled at them before disappearing through the gate.
Melanie spun around, a satisfied smile on her own face, and caught up to Casey. “Really?” Casey griped. “He’s not your type, and I know he’s not mine.”
“How?”
Casey’s eyes skipped to the gate. “Look at the man – you can tell he’s not from around here.”
“We don’t know that. For all we know he works at the stable in Queens, or the one by the Park.”
“My point exactly. Can you see yourself dating a guy who spends all day raking an arena with a tractor and shoveling horse manure?”
Melanie turned to her. “Stop judging. You sound like your dad.”
Her words brought Casey to a stop. “The last person I want to talk about is my father.”
Melanie’s expression went from accusatory to sympathetic. “What’s he done now?”
Casey frowned. Should she tell her? Would it hurt her feelings?
“Casey, what is it? What’s wrong? You’re so grumpy today.”
Casey sighed and stared at the ground. “He thinks designing swimwear for a living is beneath me – that I should pursue something more dignified.”
Melanie studied her a moment. “I know that look. What else?”
“He … doesn’t like the two of us hanging out so much. He thinks …”
“Oh, don’t tell me …”
“… you’re a bad influence.”
“What?!”
Casey drew in a deep breath. “He’s crazy. You know that.”
Melanie couldn’t keep from sounding hurt. “I mean, my dad’s overprotective, but he doesn’t tell me who I can or can’t have as a friend. He likes you. I don’t know why your dad doesn’t like me.”
“It’s not that he doesn’t like you,” Casey said. “It’s that you photograph my designs. He doesn’t like Amber or Jin or Natalia either.”
“Why, because they’re the models I use when I shoot your designs? That’s insane.”
Casey smiled ruefully. “Crazy. Like I said.”
“So is that why you signed up for riding lessons? Because you know he’ll hate it?”
“Of course.” Casey was tired of him trying to bully her out of her career choice due to his precious dignity – read, his precious control issues. Ever since she and Melanie became debutantes and entered into polite society, he’d been a complete ogre. Thank Heaven he hadn’t pestered her as heavily when she was in college, or she’d have dropped out.
Besides, she wasn’t as status-conscious as him. He’d been born into money, a classic legacy kid, then built his own little empire through the stock market. But wealth didn’t keep you company at night, nor listen when you really needed to talk. Her father’s way of handling anything was with a pen, a checkbook and a hard-nosed attitude. It was one of the reasons she’d chosen to attend an arts college and not an Ivy League school – she specifically wanted to avoid following in his footsteps.
Melanie had followed suit, but with her family’s support – her craving for self-discovery and hunger to express her creativity through photography was too strong to ignore. Together she and Casey made an impressive team, and planned on shooting a look-book of Casey’s latest designs in Mexico in a few months. Hopefully it would garner the interest of so
me of the larger fashion magazines.
By the time they reached the wash area, the groom had already placed Georgie in cross ties and half-filled a bucket with water. It sat next to a utility basket full of horse shampoo, conditioner, brushes, combs, sponges and other paraphernalia and implements Casey hadn’t a clue about. She wanted to learn to ride, but not to go into horse ownership the way Melanie had.
“There’s my handsome boy,” Melanie cooed, scratching Georgie between the ears. Georgie nickered in response. Melanie grabbed the end of a coiled hose, went to a nearby tap and turned on the water. Casey watched her friend gently speak to Georgie as if talking to a child before giving the spray nozzle’s handle a squeeze and hosing down his legs and feet. For a fleeting moment, she was jealous – Melanie had someone to take care of, to nurture.
Casey shrugged the thought off. She didn’t need anything to nurture, not even a kitten. Besides, she was allergic to cats.
Done with Georgie’s rinsing, Melanie added some shampoo to the bucket and filled it the rest of the way. “Here’s where you can help.” She bent over the box of supplies, picked up two sponges and handed Casey one.
Casey took it, looking worried. “Tell me this isn’t much different than giving a dog a bath.”
Melanie smiled. “Don’t worry – I’ll show you what to do.”
Casey listened to Melanie’s instructions on the fine art of bathing a horse (which to Casey really wasn’t much different from bathing a dog – just without a tub of water). She sponged off one side as Melanie worked the other. They didn’t talk much, which suited Casey. Her mind kept drifting to her father and how he’d been interfering with her life lately, which made it difficult to concentrate on the task at hand. Georgie was a gentle horse, but she didn’t want to spook him.
Melanie sponged some water onto Georgie’s face. “Go ahead and rinse off your side.”
Casey laughed as he lifted his head and smacked his lips. “What’s he doing?”
“He always does this when I wash his head. At least he doesn’t freak out like some horses do.”
Casey laughed again, picked up the hose and pointed it at Georgie’s back, giving the nozzle’s handle a healthy squeeze.
“Be sure to point the hose …”
“AAAHHHH!”
“… down, or you’ll spray me,” Melanie finished as she cringed.
But it wasn’t Melanie that had gotten sprayed. Both women stopped and stared as Mr. Cowboy shook water off his hands, then wiped it from his face. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” Casey said, peeking at him over Georgie’s back.
Mr. Cowboy smiled – it looked forced – and shook off his hands again. “If you’d been firing a gun, I’d say ‘nice shot.’ Only I’d probably be dead.”
Casey stepped out from behind Georgie and saw all the water soaking into his clothes. “Oh my … I got you good, didn’t I?” She immediately froze – why did she always manage the worst thing to say?
But he smiled again, friendlier this time. “Like I said, nice shot.” He brushed at his jacket. “No harm done. I’ll pretend it was raining.”
Casey glanced around for a towel, but there wasn’t one. She put a hand to her mouth in embarrassment.
Melanie just laughed. “At least it wasn’t a downpour,” she teased.
“Thank Heaven for small favors.” He closed the distance between them and offered Casey a hand. “Jake Sullivan.”
She smiled and took it. “Casey Woodrow. And this is my friend Melanie Haeger.”
He let go of Casey’s hand to shake Melanie’s. His grip had been strong, sure – she liked it. Once again, she wondered what he was doing there.
“Nice horse,” he commented to Melanie. “Warm blood?”
“Thank you, and yes,” she said.
He turned back to Casey. “Do you board here?” His voice was heavenly – deep, velvety, oddly soothing.
“Oh, um … no, I don’t own a horse,” she stammered.
He nodded, but more to himself. “I see.” He focused on Melanie again. “How long have you been boarding here?”
Melanie smiled. “I’ve had Georgie here about two years, but I’ve been riding here for over ten.”
“As often as she could,” Casey tossed in. “That is, when we weren’t in school.”
“College,” Melanie quickly corrected.
He glanced between them, an amused smile on his face. Great, they were both blowing it with this guy. The question was, why were they trying? She didn’t know about Melanie, but she’d no sooner date his kind than jump in front of a subway train. So why did she feel the urge to flirt with him? For that matter, why did it bother her that Melanie was?
Chapter 3
Jake kept his smile fixed in place. Both women were pretty, and he wasn’t sure which one he fancied more, the blonde or the redhead. Not that it mattered – he didn’t have time for such nonsense anyway.
“I really am sorry for soaking you,” Casey the redhead said again.
“It’s nothing. My clothes will dry.” He let himself look her over, trying not to be obvious about it. She didn’t have that typical “New Yawk” accent he’d heard so much on TV shows but not in the actual city so far. He kept having to remind himself that the Big Apple was the ultimate melting pot. His mother and Aunt Penny both told him so at Grandpa Joe’s funeral, but he hadn’t realized how true it was.
“At least it’s warm out,” she added hastily, as if his silence made her nervous. “You could always stand in the sun to dry out.”
“Thanks.” He allowed his smile to relax. “Maybe I’ll do that. I want to have a good walk around the place anyway.”
“Are you thinking of boarding a horse here?” the blonde asked. Darn, what was her name again – Marjorie? Melody?
“No – like I said, I’m here on other business.”
“What sort of business?” Casey asked.
He liked her boldness. On the other hand, maybe she was just being nosy. “Well, I guess you could say I’m the new owner.”
“You own this place?” she gasped, exchanging a quick look with her friend.
“What happened to Miss Dixie?” the blonde asked, her eyebrows raised in surprise. Melanie – that was her name!
“She’s my grandmother. My grandfather owned this place and named it after Nana.”
Casey giggled.
“What’s so funny?”
“Sorry. Um, I’ve just never heard a grown man say ‘nana’ before.”
“What’s wrong with ‘Nana’?” he asked with a shrug. “It’s just another word for grandmother.”
She smiled as her cheeks flushed pink. “I’m sorry, I just … don’t know anyone who refers to their grandmother that way.”
He scratched his head and laughed. “I have a buddy back home who calls his grandmother Meemaw.”
Casey started giggling again. He kind of liked the sound of it.
“I’d be shot dead if I called my grandmother anything other than Grandmother,” Melanie stated. “She’s very particular that way.”
Several seconds of silence passed, before Georgie broke it by snorting at the floor. “I think he wants us to finish his bath.” Casey said, raising the hose.
Jake put his hands up as if to ward off an attack and took a few steps back. “Let me get out of range first. I don’t need another shower.”
Casey playfully aimed the spray nozzle at him. “Better hurry, before I fire again.”
Jake laughed, waved goodbye and set off again. He wanted to inspect the paddocks and outbuildings, then take Miss Williams up on her offer to borrow a horse named Bojangles, see what shape the riding trails were in and take in the scenery. It amazed him there was this little slice of paradise surrounded by the huge city. So far he liked what he’d seen of the place, even if it did need sprucing up.
He told Miss Williams he’d spend the next couple days making a list of needed repairs, then get down to the business of tackling the accounts. She was fine with it, which was encouraging – ei
ther that or she was hoping to touch the books up before he saw them. Who knew what had been going on here since she’d started managing the place? The way his relatives had talked at his funeral, once Grandpa Joe turned one of his hobby businesses over to a manager, he didn’t pay much attention to it unless there was real trouble – a police investigation, say.
Really, why would Miss Williams tamper with anything? The stable appeared to be well-managed from what he’d seen so far. The clients – the two he’d met – were happy, and the horses appeared to be too. But “what he’d seen so far” didn’t entail much yet. A couple of clients and a few horses couldn’t tell the whole story.
Jake smiled as he walked down the shed row and wondered if the rest of the stable’s clients looked like the two women he’d just met. He made a mental note to remember their names, and those of any other clients he happened to meet. He wanted to get to know them, find out what they liked or disliked about the stable and the way things were run. Casey and Melanie could hardly be used to represent the rest of the stable’s clientele. Miss Williams had told him the clients taking lessons and boarding there were a mix – young, old and everything in between.
Once outside, he met Miss Williams near a paddock. “My lesson didn’t show, so I’m going to give Miss Woodrow the woman’s time slot,” she said. “I’m afraid you’re on your own for a while.”
The redhead flashed before him. He smiled and unconsciously brushed at his damp shirt. “Oh yes, I’ve met her.”
Miss Williams took note of his damp clothing. “How did you get so wet?”
Jake turned toward the wide barn door that led into the shed row behind him. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Miss Williams glanced at the opening. “I’m terribly sorry. What happened?”
Jake chuckled. “Two women I met in the arena earlier were bathing a horse. One of them accidentally got me with a hose. It’s nothing.”
Miss Williams frowned. “I hope they apologized.”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t they?”
She moved closer and lowered her voice. “Miss Haeger, the woman who owns the big bay gelding, is a socialite but a nice one. Her friend just signed up for a month’s worth of lessons, paid in advance, but I don’t know her. She’s brand-new here.”