by Lily Everett
The worst part of it? He couldn’t bring himself to regret it. In fact, he kept catching himself grinning in anticipation of seeing her again when she came to pick Caitlin up.
So when the low rumble of her SUV filtered through the cracks in the barn walls along with the late afternoon sunlight, Sam wasn’t surprised to find a smile on his face. Shaking his head ruefully, he nudged Caitlin with his booted foot. She looked up sleepily from her spot on the tack room floor, the forgotten bridle in her lap jangling in the quiet stillness of the barn.
“Your aunt is here,” he told her.
Caitlin sighed, tightening her thin fingers on the bridle before pushing to her feet to hang it on the empty wooden peg in the row of bridles lining the wall. “I don’t want to go with her. I like it here.”
“Here’s great,” Sam agreed, breathing in the familiar comfort of stable smell as they walked out into the main barn. “But I’m sure your aunt’s house is nice, too.”
“Does my dad live there sometimes?”
Sam paused. “I don’t know, sweetheart. Why don’t you ask your aunt about it?”
“I’m not supposed to talk about my dad,” she said with a matter-of-fact shrug.
He was willing to bet that wasn’t a rule Andie had imposed. “You talked about him with me a little bit,” he pointed out.
Caitlin gave him a withering look. “That’s different. You’re a boy.”
Sam wasn’t touching that one. “Well, I bet your Aunt Andie wouldn’t mind telling you about her brother. You should give her a chance.”
“A chance to do what?” Andie asked.
Sam couldn’t help it. His body tightened in a rush when she strode into the barn. It was a conditioned response to her voice, at this point—just the sound of her brisk, no-nonsense tones reached deep into his chest and grabbed on tight—but knowing it didn’t seem to lessen the impact. He turned to greet her, but the words stuck in his throat.
It was the first time he’d ever seen her out of uniform. And as gorgeous as that tall, athletic body was in crisp khakis and a black utility belt, Sam thought his heart might actually give out at the sight of Andie in dark wash jeans and a spaghetti-strap tank top. The shirt was a bright turquoisey blue color that made her eyes glow and her hair seem more strawberry than blonde. And those jeans …
They weren’t skin tight, but they hugged her lithe hips and long, lean thighs in a way that made Sam swallow hard against the swell of desire.
“What were y’all talking about?” Andie glanced between her silent niece and Sam, who did his best to force his brain back online.
Caitlin said nothing, choosing instead to pick at a loose thread along the hem of her purple T-shirt. But when Sam opened his mouth to fill Andie in, the kid shot him a sideways look that dried the words up before he could spill them. Caitlin didn’t want to talk about her dad with her aunt. Fine, it was none of Sam’s business anyway.
“We were just discussing how I’m bound to be way better than you at this volunteering gig,” Sam improvised, with a deliberate wink at Caitlin.
Andie’s mouth kicked up at the corners as if she’d seen the wink, but she narrowed her eyes and did a convincing impression of a fierce competitor. “Oh yeah? Well, I’m planning to smoke you. So get ready, Mr. Horse Whisperer. You’re going down.”
Only Caitlin’s interested gaze, bouncing between them like a tennis ball, kept Sam from stepping close enough to growl something in Andie’s ear about just how much he’d love to go down, as long as she went down with him.
He didn’t have a chance to come up with a G-rated response when Jo Ellen appeared in the office doorway with an amused grin on her weathered, handsome face. “Settle down. It’s not a competition. In fact, the two of you are going to have to figure out how to work together, not against each other.”
“I don’t know,” Sam said doubtfully, catching Caitlin’s eye to make sure she was listening. “The sheriff and I are kind of polar opposites in most ways. And we don’t know each other that well. It might be hard for me to give her a chance.”
Andie stiffened, but as her gaze drifted from Sam’s pointed stare to Caitlin’s wide, wary eyes, a stillness came over her. With a dawning smile that looked like hope, Andie said, “You’re right, we don’t really know each other. Yet. But I’m willing to change that, if you are. And if you’re not ready now, well … I can be patient. I’m not going to give up.”
Once Andie caught on, she stared straight into Sam’s eyes and never let her gaze waver. Even so, Sam knew who her words were truly meant for, and he could only hope Caitlin was soaking them up as thirstily as he was. Because even knowing he was only a proxy for the true point of this conversation, there was something about the sincerity and straightforwardness of Andie’s speech that hit him like a kick to the gut.
“I’d like that,” Sam said gruffly. He held out his hand to seal the deal, and when Andie clasped his fingers, it was all he could do not to use the leverage to reel her in for a kiss.
Wrong time, wrong place … wrong person. Sam didn’t even know if it was Andie who was the wrong person, or if he was. All he knew was that this point he was trying to make to Caitlin had somehow gotten turned around and skewered him instead. Right through the heart.
What would it be like to have someone in his life who loved him enough to never give up on him?
Sam dropped Andie’s capable, interestingly callused hand with a low growl. Waste of time to even think about it. That kind of love wasn’t meant for a man like Sam. He’d never had it and never would, so why torture himself imagining it?
Chapter Eight
Andie wasn’t sure what she’d done to put Sam in a bad mood, but whatever it was, he needed to get over it.
“Careful—Sam, wait for Andie! She’s got a job to do, too, and there’s no reason to rush around the ring.”
Jo Ellen sat on the top rail of the indoor ring with a clipboard on her knee and a mildly exasperated look on her face. Her soon-to-be stepdaughter, Taylor, stood outside the ring with her arms crossed over the railing. Behind them, Caitlin perched on the highest step of the special mounting ramp they used to help disabled or injured riders get onto their horses.
“Just slow down,” Andie hissed at Sam’s tense back. The horse he was leading gave a loud, snorting sigh. “It’s not a race.”
From his position at the horse’s head, Sam didn’t even look over his shoulder at her. “It’s not anything. It’s pointless.”
“It’s practice!” Andie wanted to throw her hands up in frustration, but she was determined to follow Jo’s instructions about the duties of a side walker to the letter.
Your job is to walk beside the horse to support the rider. Keep one hand on the back of the saddle at all times. Be alert to the horse’s movements and your rider’s balance.
Just because there was no rider this time, that didn’t mean Andie intended to shirk her duties.
“You need practice at walking?” Sam demanded. “I guess you must, since I’m going too fast for you.”
Andie felt heat prickle at her cheeks and the tips of her ears. “It’s more awkward than you might think, walking twisted like this to be ready to catch someone if they fall.”
“There’s no one to catch!”
“It’s our first time! They’re hardly going to trust us with a real client our first time out. But if we master this not-very-complicated routine,” Andie pointed out, “there will be someone on the horse. Someone who really needs our help and will get a huge medical or emotional benefit out of a therapeutic riding session. I’d appreciate it if you’d take this seriously.”
Sam stopped in his tracks, turning on her with a face set in stark, uncompromising lines. “I take this very seriously,” he ground out.
Then what was the problem?
From the fence line, Jo called, “Is everything okay?”
Andie held up her hand, eyes never leaving Sam’s. “Give us a minute, please, Jo Ellen.”
A muscle ticked in
Sam’s hard jaw. His sable brows were drawn into straight lines over his dark, shuttered eyes. “I don’t need a minute. I’m fine.”
“Obviously,” Andie said blandly. “Look, something is bothering you. Tell me what it is so we can fix it. That’s part of working together, Sam.”
His gaze shifted away and one of his hands sought Peony’s glossy neck, as if for reassurance. “I don’t really do that. Work with other people, I mean. It’s better that way.”
Andie cocked her head, honestly perplexed. “How can being alone be better for you?”
“I didn’t say it was better for me.”
The derisive twist of his mouth on the last word knocked something loose in Andie’s chest. “You think it’s better for other people if you stay apart from them.”
“I’m good with animals. People? Not so much.”
“But that’s not true,” Andie protested.
“It is, believe me.” Sam finally met her stare, and the bitter chocolate depths of his eyes were hot with an emotion she couldn’t name. “You don’t know me, Andie.”
She felt the words like a fist to the face, but she knew how to roll with a punch and come back swinging. “How can anyone know you, when you push everyone away? Everyone except my niece. You think you’re not good with people? You’re great with her.”
“That’s not … I mean, Caitlin is different. I get her.”
“Well, she’s a mystery to me. But something about you makes her feel comfortable, makes her feel safe in a way that I haven’t managed to yet.”
He shrugged stiffly, as if redistributing a heavy weight across his broad shoulders. “You’ll get there eventually.”
“I hope so. At least she knows I’m trying, thanks to your help. That’s the beauty of having a partner. You have someone to watch your back, to help you when something turns out to be too much to handle alone. You’re more comfortable with the horses than with the idea of the clients? That’s fine, because I’m pretty good with people, and I’m the one who’ll deal with them the most. Until you get the hang of it, I’ll cover you. And vice versa, until I get my bearings around the horses. Right? We’ll be fine. So long as we work together.”
“Together,” he said, low and deep as his large, square-palmed hand flexed and turned under hers until their fingers twined together. “I’ll give it a try.”
Heat fluttered around Andie’s belly. Mouth suddenly dry, she nearly moaned when Sam’s gaze dropped to follow the flicker of her tongue over her bottom lip. Her mouth felt swollen and sensitive under Sam’s hungry stare. She drifted toward him, her grip on his hand tightening compulsively, the lure of his huge, hard body irresistible.
Until Jo’s voice broke through the fragile web of sensual tension. From only a few feet away, Jo said drily, “I think it’s time for a new approach.”
Trailing uncertainly a few paces behind her was Caitlin.
*
Andie got under his skin like no other human being Sam had ever met. He hadn’t meant to tell her any of that stuff. She had enough ammunition already without handing over new ways to strike at him. But instead of turning her newfound weapons against him, she’d somehow turned his head around so that he was agreeing to work together and coming within a hair’s breadth of kissing her.
Thank God for Jo Ellen and her new idea.
“Steady now,” Andie said softly from behind him. She was the one with nerves in her voice now, he noted. It was a little different having a flesh-and-blood person in the saddle, being responsible for that person’s safety. Especially when that person was a niece you barely knew and desperately wanted to take care of.
Caitlin squirmed enough to make the saddle creak. Sam exchanged a look with Peony, who sighed patiently and planted her hooves in the sawdust covering the floor of the training ring. She was as steady a ride as Caitlin would ever find. Perfect for a beginner.
Especially a beginner who was eager to skip right over the lessons on walking and trotting and head straight for a four-foot jump at a breakneck gallop.
“I don’t need you to walk with me. I’m not a baby,” she insisted impatiently, kicking at Peony’s sides a little. Her small, sneaker-clad heels didn’t make much of an impression on Peony, who worked the bridle in her mouth as if she was bored.
“I know you’re not, but it’s not up to us. Miss Jo says this is how we do it, and it’s her barn,” Andie explained. There was no trace of hurt or upset in her even voice, but when Sam snuck a peek over his shoulder, her fingers were white-knuckled on the back of the saddle.
This wasn’t going to get easier until they dove in and gave it a try, so Sam clucked at Peony and led her forward in a slow, stately walk.
Caitlin shrieked with glee, making Peony’s ears flick back and forth.
“Don’t be too loud, remember what Miss Jo Ellen said,” Andie fretted. “Sam, are you sure you’ve got a good hold on her?”
Sam checked his grip, about eight inches down the lead rope attached to the bottom of her halter, but there was no need. “Look. Peony is as steady and even-tempered as they come, but unpredictable accidents happen, even with the gentlest horses. I’d stake my reputation as a trainer on this mare’s temperament, but there are no guarantees in life.”
“What if I want a guarantee?” Andie muttered.
“Get used to disappointment.” Sam paced their little group around the perimeter of the ring, passing Jo and Taylor by the closed gate. Taylor gave him a grinning thumbs-up while Jo pointed to the four rails laid out parallel to one another in the center of the ring.
For the first exercise, Sam was supposed to slacken his grip on the lead rope and allow Caitlin to take more control with the reins. With Andie constantly by her side for support, Caitlin had to guide Peony to step over the rails. It all sounded pretty simple, but Sam wasn’t surprised when Peony balked at the first rail.
“She won’t go,” Caitlin said, frustration pitching her voice higher than usual. “Why won’t she go?”
This, Sam knew how to do. Without dropping the lead rope, he twisted to assess the situation. “She’s confused because you’re sending her mixed signals. You’re squeezing with your legs and nudging with your heels like Jo told you, right?”
Caitlin nodded, her pale brows a fierce line of concentration. Her whole body was tensed, wiry muscles standing out on her thin frame.
“That’s good,” Sam told her. “But look at the way you’re grabbing onto those reins. They’re connected to the bit in Peony’s mouth. You’re pulling on those reins—pulling on her mouth—so hard that she actually wants to back up to relieve the pressure.”
“What should I do?”
“Relax a little, kid.” Sam gave Caitlin an easy smile that slid over and encompassed Andie without him intending it. “Remember this is supposed to be fun. I know how much you love horses and how much you want to learn to ride, but don’t let that make you nervous. Nerves are contagious and horses are pretty sensitive. She’ll pick up on your mood, so try to project confidence. Trust. Good things.”
The rueful curl of Andie’s lips told Sam she’d realized that this speech was meant for her, too. Her grip on the saddle loosened at the same moment Caitlin dropped her hands down to her lap, easing up on the reins. “That’s good,” Sam praised them both. The twin smiles he got in return were sunny enough to blind him.
“You can do this, Caitlin.” Andie sounded so sure, so calm, it was like she’d never doubted it for a second.
Caitlin pressed her lips together and nodded once, short and sharp.
Keeping his breath and heart steady was a challenge, but he had lots of practice. Facing forward once more, Sam said, “Okay, let’s try that again.”
This time, when Caitlin urged Peony forward, she clucked softly at the horse in imitation of the way Sam did it. And it worked for her the way it always worked for him. Peony lifted her hooves and daintily picked her way over the rails as if she were born to be a high-stepping show horse.
After the fourth rai
l, Andie burst out, “You did it! Great job, Caitlin!”
Sam turned in time to catch Caitlin’s small, tentative smile at her aunt. From the way Andie’s whole face lit up, he had the feeling it might be the first smile Caitlin had given her since arriving on Sanctuary Island.
Caitlin’s fingers tightened on the reins once more, but when Peony tossed her head up and down, Caitlin wrinkled her nose and relaxed. Looking down at her aunt, she asked, “Can we do it again?”
Sam felt Andie’s thrill at being asked, at being part of this moment, as acutely as if she’d thrown her arms around him and squeezed the breath from his lungs. These two females were going to be the death of him.
An hour of exercises later, Caitlin was finally starting to droop a little. When she confessed that her butt and her knees hurt, Andie hustled them over to the gate where Jo was waiting for them. “Taylor went up to the barn—Sam, I think your cousin, Matt, is here. You three did a wonderful job!”
“Four,” Caitlin said. She went beet red when they all looked at her in surprise, but she lifted her stubborn little chin and elaborated, “Peony did a good job, too.”
Nothing could have charmed Jo Ellen more. “That’s exactly right. You have the makings of a real horsewoman, Caitlin.”
Caitlin ducked her head and busied herself with hauling her leg over the saddle to climb down, but Sam could tell she was pleased. Pleased enough, it turned out, to ask Jo if she could be the one to lead Peony back up to her stall. The look of pride on her face as she carefully took the rope from Sam, and the way she listened so intently as Jo explained how to walk on Peony’s left and to keep the long end of the rope from trailing and tripping the mare … it made Sam smile.
He dropped back to walk with Andie, who had her arms wrapped around herself like she might fly apart with happiness if she didn’t contain it. “That was amazing,” she said, her eyes shining.