The Horse Trainer's Secret

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  “How’s it look?”

  “Not great.”

  “Oh. Well. Damn.”

  “Yeah.” He glanced at the clock. “It’s nearly quitting time around here and I’m going to be busy most of the weekend.” He waited a beat, then decided to just roll the dice. “How about we talk about this over dinner?” He ignored Gina’s knowing smile. “You owe me one.”

  “After the leftovers from last night, I might owe you two. But I guess that works. Where and when?”

  He wanted to say his place, but he knew she’d shy away from him as quickly as her pony had when he’d gotten too close the evening before. And he already felt as if his dice had come up doubles. “If you don’t mind a drive, there’s a good Chinese place over in Braden. I have some plans I need to drop off there for a client.” It was a shameless ploy—using business as a pretext—but a man had to use the tools at hand.

  “The medical building?”

  “Related to it. If you’re able to leave soon, I’d be able to get there before his office closes.”

  “Well, I don’t know.” Her voice turned dry. “My schedule is pretty full.”

  “I’ll pick you up in twenty.”

  “Don’t be early.”

  He was still smiling when he turned around to drop the phone back on its cradle.

  “Nicky’s in luh-uv,” Gina said in a singsong voice.

  “It’s a good thing you do an amazing job juggling everything around here for Dad and me.” He grabbed one of the labeled tubes from the worktable behind her desk. “Otherwise you’d be a total pain in the butt.”

  The phone rang again. She smirked and lifted the receiver. “Ventura and Ventura. Well, hello, Mr. Fernandez. Yes, I have your quote all ready—”

  He headed out and the door closed behind him, cutting off her voice.

  He dumped everything in the back seat of his SUV and called his dad. “Sorry for the last-minute cancellation, but I can’t make it tonight.” His dad and a few others were meeting up at Colbys for steak and billiards.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Just running David Templeton’s plans over to Braden. Give him a few extra days to look ’em over before we submit them to the city.” He backed out of his parking spot. “When are you going to tell Gina to place the ad for a receptionist?”

  “Next week. Figured that’d be the best birthday gift we can give her.”

  Nick chuckled. “Speaking of gifts, what am I supposed to get Shelby?” His little sister was graduating from junior high the following week but the party was that weekend. “And don’t tell me a horse.”

  “Got the horse covered,” Beck admitted.

  “She finally broke you down, huh?” He waited for a sheriff’s vehicle to pass and turned out of the parking lot. “Turning into a pushover, Dad.”

  “Blame the women in my life. Get Shelby something for the horse,” he advised. “Doesn’t need to be much.”

  “Will do. Catch you later.”

  He pulled up in front of number 22 fifteen minutes later. He considered just honking to let Megan know he was here.

  No doubt she would be perfectly happy—even prefer it—but it went too far against the grain for him. He figured he could learn not to open her door or pull out her chair the way he’d been taught, but there was a limit.

  The drapes were pulled shut across the window of her room, so he sat in the salmon-colored chair to while away a few more minutes. Nick was pretty sure the only thing holding the chair together was all the coats of paint that had been applied over the years.

  He had to give credit to the owner of the motel. At least they were trying.

  The Cozy Night was located on a slight rise above Weaver and he idly watched the light traffic on the highway below. The cars were slow through town, but picked up speed as they left.

  When he figured enough time had passed, he stood and knocked on the door.

  Megan whipped it open immediately and stood there on the threshold. She was wearing a white collared shirt with black stitching and black jeans that emphasized her long, lean legs. Her cheeks looked flushed and her eyes shied away from his. He noticed the clothes hanging on the closet rod. Two pairs of cowboy boots and some sandals were lined up on the floor next to the dresser.

  And though they were empty, the suitcases were still lying on the bed. The bed.

  Site of unbelievable delight.

  He looked from the bed to her. She was pulling her hair free of her collar and the shirt button over her breasts slipped free, allowing a brief glimpse of sheer lace beneath.

  He cleared his throat slightly. “Ready?”

  She nodded and started to pull the door closed behind her but darted back inside to grab the room key.

  Then she yanked the door shut and stepped past him toward their vehicles. His SUV was parked next to her pickup and she hesitated in front of it, giving him a questioning look.

  “At the risk of offending your sensibilities, I’ll drive,” he said.

  “Fine with me,” she said loftily. “Your SUV’s more comfortable, anyway.” She pulled open the passenger-side door and climbed inside.

  One of these days he’d figure her out.

  It was a challenge he welcomed.

  He got behind the wheel and drove out of the parking lot. They were almost to the Shop-World complex before she spoke.

  “How bad was the engineering report?”

  “If we talk about that now, what’re we going to talk about over dinner?” He reached back and blindly found the report, then handed it to her.

  She flipped through the pages. “I’m sure you know all of this is basically Greek to me.”

  “The site we found won’t work. There are a lot of reasons why in there, but the most important one is the risk of rockslides. With enough money and enough time, we could build there, but—”

  “Money and time,” she said, finishing for him. “So I got two blisters for nothing on that hike.” She tossed the report into the back seat again. “Joy, oh, bliss.”

  “You said you didn’t get blisters.”

  She just rolled her eyes.

  “Anyway, it’s not the end of the world. I want to revisit the idea of moving the parking lot.”

  He already knew the area in question was fit for extensive construction because they’d had the studies done. It would mean that the lodge couldn’t be expanded farther in that direction in the future, but expanding the lodge at all was a point of some contention between Gage and Jed, anyway. Jed wanted to keep things small. Gage—being Gage—was already thinking toward the future.

  “Well...”

  He glanced at her when she hesitated.

  “I’ve been thinking that maybe the barn doesn’t need to be as big as I thought.”

  He was glad the light was red when he reached it, because it meant he could turn to stare at her. “Thinking since when?”

  “Since I saw the med wing out at Crossing West.”

  It was his turn to roll his eyes. “No comparison, sweetheart. Even if it’s doubled in size, what we’re designing is nowhere as big as Crossing West.”

  “I know that. The place is huge. I swear I got lost twice. But it reminded me of what guests like most about the setup at Angel River. That it feels accessible. Even someone unfamiliar with horses isn’t likely to feel intimidated. We want them to feel like they’re somewhere special, for sure, but also somewhere they’re still comfortable. Somewhere they want to visit again.” The light turned green and he turned his attention back to the road. There was no such thing as rush hour in Weaver, but he knew once he got out of town, the curving stretch of highway between Weaver and Braden would be busy. “So you’ve changed your mind about the number of stalls or what?”

  “N-o-o-o.” She drew out the word as if she wasn’t entirely convinced. “If the pla
ce is successful—”

  “Are you beginning to doubt it?”

  “Well, no. Not really.” She sounded more certain again. “If they plan to utilize a similar plan as we have at Angel River, at least some of the guests will be using the horses nearly every day. There will almost always be one or two horses that can’t be ridden for some reason—injuries or some other medical issue—so having the capacity to stall anywhere from thirty to fifty horses is still necessary. But maybe to keep the barn from feeling at all immense to the guests, some horses could be stabled near the lodge and some up at April and Jed’s ranch. Or—” She wriggled in her seat a little, turning slightly toward him, affording him another peek of white lace. “Or maybe building closer to the lake is something we should consider. I’ve been learning a lot more about the state-park end of things.”

  “Is that what kept you occupied all day?”

  “I could only spend so much time arranging my wardrobe,” she said, deadpan. “Extensive as it is.”

  He smiled.

  She rolled her window down and the breeze tugged at her hair. In March, it had been just below her shoulders. Now, only a few months later, it was quite a bit longer. She tucked it behind her ear, but it just blew loose again. “Maybe a stable near the lake could be used for more than just the paying guests. They could have rentals for people visiting the park. Or offer boarding—”

  “Not much call for that around here,” he interrupted. “There are already a few folks who offer boarding for those who need it. But I see where you’re going with this.”

  He passed a slow-moving semi hauling hay and sped up slightly as the buildings, dwindling in number, fell away in his rearview mirror. “There’s no road from the lodge to the lake—by design—and Jed has said flat out that there’s not going to be one.”

  “Because?”

  “He doesn’t want there to be any more development than necessary, and on that side of the lake, it’s his call. April’s going to side with Jed on that score even if Gage disagrees. So, two to one. No road. Which leaves a several-hour hike—and a strenuous one at that—to get from the lodge to the lake, or else a good two-hour horse ride.”

  “So logistically, it doesn’t make a lot of sense,” Megan concluded.

  “The only way to get to the lake is by the access road the state has put in from the highway. Whereas the road going up to the lodge and April and Jed’s cabin originates a good ten miles away.”

  “The guy who owned that mountain didn’t make things easy, did he?” she grumbled.

  “Personally, I never met Otis Lambert. But from what everyone’s said, he enjoyed his privacy.”

  “So do I, but that doesn’t mean I need an entire mountain to myself to get it.”

  Nick chuckled. “It’s easy to hear about someone who’s described as a hermit. Another thing to deal with the real McCoy.”

  She turned back around so she was facing forward and drummed her fingers lightly on the console.

  They were long. Tanned. And sported two bandages. One on her thumb. One on her ring finger.

  He looked back at the road, and put his right hand on the wheel. Now his hands were in the ten-and-two position. The way his folks had taught him. But only because if he didn’t keep both hands on the wheel, he was going to cover her drumming fingers with his and she’d probably tell him to turn right around and take her back to Weaver for having the gall to hold her hand.

  “Do you ride?”

  “If I have to.” He didn’t need to ask if she meant horses. There was no way she’d have meant anything but.

  “Have to.” She stopped drumming and flattened her palm against her chest. “I think my heart just died a little.”

  “What can I say? I rode a few times in Denver when I was a kid. You know. Birthday parties for friends or something. And that was always in an indoor riding ring. But until my dad moved here and tried his hand at being a small rancher?” He shrugged. “Not a lot of opportunity, need or interest.”

  “Too busy making models of skyscrapers out of Popsicle sticks, I suppose.” She dropped her hand on the console again. This time, though, it was her knee that bounced.

  For several miles.

  It kept drawing his attention.

  He turned on the radio. Thanks to satellite, his choices were a little more varied than classic country, country and new country. He settled on some Pink Floyd.

  It had no effect on her bouncing knee, though.

  They’d reached the halfway point to Braden when she finally stopped and folded her arms over her chest.

  “I didn’t go to college,” she said abruptly.

  He wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. “Did you want to?”

  “No.”

  She didn’t sound defensive. “Then it worked out well.”

  She fell silent again for a few more miles.

  “I never knew my mother.” Again, her words were abrupt.

  And totally out of the blue.

  “I remember you mentioned that your grandmother raised you. Dad’s side?”

  “No. I didn’t know him, either.”

  “Is that the reason for the lifelong lack of trust in others?”

  “That and the fact that there haven’t been a lot of people around who deserved to be trusted, anyway.” She shifted. “Aside from Birdie—” She caught his glance. “That’s my grandmother. Birdie Forrester. Aside from her, the only other people I trust with my life are Rory and Sean. Her dad.”

  “Rory and Gage got married just a few months ago, didn’t they?”

  “Shortly after New Year’s. They had a small wedding at Angel River. They’re living in Denver now. When they’re not traveling somewhere with Gage, that is. I’m Killy’s—Killian’s his real name. I suppose you maybe know that.”

  He shook his head. “You’re Killy’s...?”

  “Godmother.”

  She was back to drumming her fingertips again. He changed the station to classical music but that didn’t have much more of an effect on her than Pink Floyd.

  “How old is he?”

  “Seven.”

  “Do they get back to Angel River often?”

  “No.”

  He glanced at her.

  “She’s planned to come a couple times, but hasn’t actually made it. Sean’s gone to Denver but...” She trailed off and shrugged.

  “You haven’t gone yourself?”

  “Haven’t had the time.”

  “You came here in March. Denver’s less than a day’s drive from here.”

  She shrugged again. “I never planned to get stuck here that—” She broke off and turned her head to look out the window. Her hair blew around her head and she caught it with her hand. “I needed to get back to Angel River. Business there’s been picking up again. We’ve been busy.” She rolled up her window several inches and let go of her hair again. “How much farther to Braden?”

  “Half hour or so.”

  “Haven’t been there since I was in school. Weaver, either, for that matter. Wymon High had to travel this far lots of times to compete in sports.”

  “What’d you play? Basketball?”

  “You assume that, why? Because I’m the giant lady?”

  He gave her a look. “The only thing giant about you is your overdeveloped sense of independence. What are you? Five-nine? Five-ten?”

  “Ten.”

  “I could still toss you over my shoulder,” he said dryly. Or span her waist with his hands.

  He tried to block that thought, but wasn’t quick enough.

  He didn’t feel too bad, though. Not when he noticed that her cheeks were coloring in an interesting way.

  “As it happens,” she continued, “it seemed like a good idea to the basketball coach, too. But I was terrible at it. No coordination at all with the ball. Rory and
I both played in the marching band.”

  “What’d you play?”

  “Triangle.”

  He bit back a fresh smile. “Important role, the triangle.”

  “Oh, yeah.” She held up her hands, miming a performance. “Band would have fallen apart without me.”

  “And Rory? What did she—”

  “Trombone.”

  He couldn’t help it. He laughed. He’d met Rory only once. She was probably a half foot shorter than Megan. “Between the two of you, that seems quite a picture.”

  She dropped her hands again, so the fingers of her left hand were resting on the console. “Yeah, well, maybe someday I’ll actually show you a real picture of us from those days.”

  “I look forward to that.”

  Her cheeks colored again in that totally unexpected way and she looked away.

  But her fingers weren’t drumming and her knee wasn’t bouncing anymore.

  Chapter Eight

  Nick’s client turned out to be a pediatrician whose office was in a converted house.

  If Megan hadn’t needed to pee so badly by the time they arrived, she’d have been happy to remain in the SUV while Nick delivered his architectural plans.

  Instead, she walked into the office with him and the sight of a half-dozen kids—ranging in age from infant to teenager—was enough to make her stomach want to drop out.

  She had never been the sort of person prone to panic.

  But all of those children, all of their energy and their runny noses and tugging on their mom’s sleeves, made her suddenly want to run out of the room screaming.

  Nick stood at the sliding window of the reception desk telling the receptionist the purpose of his visit, and the friendly woman gestured at the busy waiting room. “It’ll be a few minutes,” she said.

  There were only three chairs available and none of them were next to each other. Rather than sit, Megan asked the woman in a low tone if she could use the restroom.

  “Of course!” The woman pulled open the door next to her and gestured down a hallway. “Go left at the end of the hall. Then it’s the last door on the right.”