Max (7 Brides for 7 Brothers Book 5)

by Lynn Raye Harris

  “I’ll tackle the ones in my room later. We’ll see how that goes.”

  “Any further renovation plans for the room?”

  “I’m buying a new mattress. That one sucks.”

  She snorted. “I thought you said it wasn’t going to be problem.”

  “It wasn’t—for a night.”

  “You don’t need to buy one, Max. There’s a guest bedroom upstairs that’s not being used. You can stay there.”

  He grinned. “I thought you wanted me gone. And now you’re letting me have a new room?” He shook his head. “Nope, not accepting. Besides, when I said I was getting a new mattress, I meant an air mattress. I like that room. I’m not giving up on it.”

  For some reason, that filled her with warmth. He liked the room, and he liked sitting on the porch. Yesterday morning, she’d thought he was looking down his nose at the genteel decay of her home, and now she knew that wasn’t really true. Max wasn’t quite what she’d thought he was.

  She remembered her dreams, and the reality of what he did made a shiver slip down her spine. Her spoon clanked the bowl. It was his life. She didn’t care what he did with it. She didn’t know him well enough to care.

  And yet…

  Max was gazing at her questioningly, but he didn’t say anything.

  “Sorry,” she said, carefully moving her spoon so it didn’t clank again. “Klutzy sometimes.”

  “Hopefully not while riding.”

  It took her a moment to realize he was teasing. “Well, it happens. Not often, thankfully. I lost a rein once when I was showing in a big class. My horse stumbled and the rein slipped right out of my grip. I got it back, but it was embarrassing.” Here she couldn’t quite contain a laugh. “And then there was the time my saddle wasn’t tight enough and the horse cut the corner sharp—and I went sliding over the side. Needless to say, I lost that class.”

  Max looked horrified. “That sounds dangerous.”

  “Really? You of all people are talking to me about danger?”

  He frowned. “Well, yeah. That saddle thing sounds like a failure to inspect the equipment.”

  She nodded. “You bet your ass that’s what it was. I thought Momma was doing it, and she thought I was doing it. Neither one of us did. That was five years ago, and it’s never happened again.”

  “You show pretty regularly?”

  Sadness churned inside her. “I used to. We had a show string—five to ten horses sometimes. And we had clients too, people who came to Momma for training, and we’d go to the shows with a load. Now it’s just going to be me and Champ and a couple of clients who will show this year. We’ll be making the rounds, trying to get enough points to qualify for Louisville.”

  The first show was coming in two weeks. She had so much riding on it. Champ needed to win his debut. And then he needed to win or make the top two in every show after that. Not for points, but for reputation and value. The more he won, the better it would be. If he got to Louisville undefeated? His worth would be unquestionable.

  But they had to get through this first show, and that worried her.

  “What’s Louisville?”

  “The World’s Championship Horse Show. It’s a big deal in our world. If Champ wins the three-year-old five-gaited division—well, it would be huge. And potentially very good for Applegate Farm.”

  “So there’s money? Like a purse?”

  “The biggest money is in the World’s Grand Championship class on Saturday night. One hundred thousand dollars. But no, Champ won’t be competing for that. Not yet. Maybe someday.”

  “So how would this be good for the farm?”

  “Someone will want to buy him if he wins. They’ll want to take him to the World’s Grand Championship class someday, and they’ll pay a lot of money for that opportunity.”

  He looked interested. “How much money?”

  Ellie’s heart sped up even thinking about it. “Potentially? A million or thereabouts. Depends on how good he looks and who’s watching.”

  Max was staring at her like he’d never heard such nonsense in his life. Then he blinked and laughed. “Damn, you’re telling me that fancy prancing horse out there is worth a million dollars? A prancer, not a racehorse like American Pharoah?”

  Ellie frowned, but she wasn’t really upset. “A prancer? Let me see you get your ass up there on his back and find out what happens. And I said potentially, by the way.”

  Max held up both hands. “Fine, potentially. Also, not getting on him. I know what my skills are, and riding isn’t one of them.”

  “Champ isn’t a prancer. He’s a marvel. A five-gaited colt with so much talent he can set the world on fire if he gets the chance. Horses like that come around once in a lifetime. We’ll probably never have another Wing Commander or Skywatch, but one day people will say we’ll never have another Applegate’s No Regrets either.”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, Ellie—but how’s Champ going to save the farm for you if the farm already owns him? That money is technically the farm’s, right? Not yours?”

  She didn’t blame him for asking the question, because it was confusing. “I own Champ. Momma gave him to me for a birthday present because she knew I loved him at first sight. We’ve always personally owned some of the horses while the others belong to the farm. Kind of an insurance policy, I guess.”

  His smile was genuine. “That’s good. I like knowing he’s yours no matter what. And now I guess we’ve got work to do, huh?”

  Max pushed his bowl back and drained his coffee. Ellie tried not to stare at his backside as he got up and went to the sink to wash—holy cow, wash—his own dishes. But it was a mighty fine backside, and it looked pretty darn good encased in faded jeans. And then there was the part where he seemed genuinely happy that Champ was hers. How could she not like him, in spite of the fact he wanted to talk her into selling her farm?

  She finished her cereal and stood, but Max was there before she could get to the sink, taking the bowl from her and washing it before stacking it in the rack to dry.

  Ellie downed her coffee and Max took her cup. “Thank you.”

  His gray eyes were warm, and they made her pulse flutter. “You’re welcome.”

  Her eyes stung for no good reason as he walked away. She smoothed her hands over her hair, ostensibly making sure her ponytail was tight, but mostly because she needed something to do.

  “Ready?” Max asked as he turned around again.

  “Sure. Let’s go feed horses.”

  He shook his head.

  “What?”

  “If you’d told me a week ago I’d be toting hay to horses, I’d have said you were crazy.”

  “What were you doing a week ago?” she asked as they stepped onto the back porch and started for the barn.

  “You don’t want to know, Ellie.”

  No, she probably didn’t.

  Max hadn’t meant to get up so early, but some habits were hard to break. The truth was he didn’t need a lot of sleep. In fact, he was used to sleeping in short snatches downrange. You never went fully to sleep while in a foxhole. You catnapped, grabbing sleep whenever you could.

  If he ever slept a whole night through again, he’d be completely surprised. He’d spent too many years doing it that way to ever change. Of course he slept in two- and three-hour increments when not fighting, but he still woke regularly and he still prowled through the darkness when he did. Last night he’d gone back outside and sat on the porch, listening to the night sounds until he was tired enough—or calm enough, he wasn’t sure which—to sleep again.

  Ellie walked beside him, her strides shorter than his but no less determined. Still, he paced himself to her stride. The sun wasn’t above the horizon yet, but the sky was already purple and orange. The grass was wet with dew, and birds chirped in the morning air. It was cool but not chilly. The barn lay ahead like a white beacon. There was a cupola on the top of the barn and a weather vane. It would make a pretty picture.

  He nearly cam
e to a full stop, wondering where the hell that thought had come from. He did not think in terms of pretty pictures or perfect Kentucky mornings, yet here he was, thinking both things.

  He shook his head. Ellie had asked him where he was a week ago. He hadn’t told her because he’d been deep behind enemy lines, striking a terrorist training camp and capturing one of their most feared leaders before obliterating the camp and ruining their ability to train. It had been ugly, as such things always were. There were casualties. One of them had been a former Green Beret he’d worked with on a couple of ops in the past year.

  Max hadn’t known Robert well, but there was something about his death that had pushed Max to seriously start thinking about his idea to open a personal-security company of his own. It would still be dangerous, but not as much so. Not as totally random as what he did now.

  They walked past the field where a group of horses nickered to them. Ellie went over and petted noses. Max noticed that one of the horses was fat. Seriously fat.

  “Is that horse pregnant?”

  Ellie turned, a smile on her face. “Yes. She’s due this month. We’ll bring her in soon so she can foal in the barn.”

  “And the others?”

  “I only bred four last year, so this is the last baby to come. All right, ladies, let me get moving. Miguel will be here shortly with your feed.”

  They started down the path again. When they reached the barn, a short man with dark hair was already there, loading hay into a John Deere Gator. He stopped when they approached, his face breaking into a broad smile.

  “Good morning, Ellie,” he said, his voice rich with hints of his native Spanish.

  “Morning, Miguel. This is Max Brannigan,” she said, waving a hand at Max. “He’s an old friend of the family, and he’s staying for a few days. He wants to help out.”

  Max nearly swallowed his tongue at the smoothness of Ellie’s lie. But he went with the flow, holding out his hand and shaking Miguel’s. The other man’s hands were strong, and he wasn’t afraid to give a firm handshake. Max liked that.

  “You’ll have to go easy on me,” Max said to him. “I don’t know much about horses.”

  “He doesn’t know anything, Miguel,” Ellie said with a smile. “Thinks we have fancy prancers around here.”

  Miguel let out a whoop and slapped his leg. “Prancers. That’s right, amigo. They prance and snort and do the prettiest dance around the ring you ever did see.”

  “He came when I was working Champ yesterday.”

  Miguel nodded appreciatively. “You are lucky, Max. That horse is special. He be a big champion someday.”

  “We hope,” Ellie said, but she was still smiling.

  “Okay, I get down to the broodmare pasture now.” Miguel swung up into the Gator and popped it into gear. It roared down the hill toward the pasture, and Miguel waved.

  “Seems like a nice guy,” Max said.

  “He is. He’s been with us for a decade. We used to have more help, but we had to let them go one by one. I keep Miguel because he’s as much a part of the farm as I am. And because I can’t do it without him.”

  “He doesn’t know about the loan?”

  The corners of her mouth tightened. “He knows. He doesn’t know who Momma borrowed the money from. I said you were an old family friend because your father was, in a way. I’ll tell him soon, but I didn’t think now was the time.”

  “I’m not upset about it.”

  She gazed at him, her green eyes so serious and sad, and he felt the jolt of that look down to his core.

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m not trying to make life hard for you, Ellie. I’m not an asshole.”

  “I know.”

  It was just about the nicest thing she could have said to him.

  “What about Lacey?” he asked.

  “She’s not an employee. She’s a friend, and she keeps her horse here. She also helps me around the barn a lot. I’ll tell her because otherwise she’s going to wonder why you’ve parked yourself in my house. She already knows you aren’t an old friend because she was here when you arrived and I didn’t know you, so that angle won’t work with her.”

  “You thought I was the HVAC guy.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh damn, I need to check on that! I completely forgot, and Roger didn’t call me with a time for today.”

  “Is there a problem?”

  “No, it’s just a regular service. It’s an old system and I’m a little paranoid about it, so I make sure to get it checked every spring and fall.”

  “Sounds like a good plan.” It was, but it bothered him that she worried about so many things. She closed off rooms to keep her bills down, worked her ass off to take care of all these horses, and nursed her old HVAC along because she likely didn’t have the money to fix it if it broke. How she’d kept this place going, especially after her mother died, was a mystery to him.

  He needed to see the books. He had a right to ask, but he almost hated to do it. She wasn’t going to be happy, and that would put a dark cloud over any progress they’d made. Not that he should care since he wasn’t here to make friends, but oddly enough, he did.

  Still, he had to see what was going on, and looking at the books was the only way. He decided he wouldn’t ask about it just now, however. The day was long, and there was plenty of time to do so. First, he wanted to see how much work there was on a day-to-day basis. He believed in getting to know a situation from the bottom up. It was the only way to truly know what he had and what needed to be done. When he was finished, he’d understand everything about how this farm worked, even if he didn’t know much about horses.

  Except he planned to learn that too, or as much as he could. He might not ride them, but he could read up on saddlebreds and see what the big deal was.

  Ellie flipped on the barn lights and then went and loaded up the wheelbarrow. Max got the hay. He knew what to do today, so he followed along and tossed hay into each stall. When he opened Champ’s stall, the big horse swung his head over to look even though he didn’t stop munching his grain. He was a beautiful animal, sleek and shiny, his coat a deep red that rippled with muscle. Max couldn’t imagine climbing up on that horse and making him do anything.

  He closed the stall and went down the line until everyone had hay. Ellie put up the wheelbarrow and grabbed the hose, walking down the aisle and watering every horse. Hell, all they’d done was feed, and it was already a lot of work.

  “You do this twice a day?”

  “Yes,” she said. “There’s more too. Once a week, we strip all the buckets out of the stalls and clean them. That takes time. Later, we’ll pick out the stalls. Miguel mucks them out every week, and we put in clean shavings. That takes several hours with the two of us. Lacey helps as she can, but she has her own work to do.”

  “And then there’s maintenance on the equipment, the ordering of supplies, and the horse training,” he said.

  “Yes. And don’t forget harvesting hay. That’s time consuming, plus we have to find help to bring it in or risk losing it in the field if the weather turns. During show weeks, Miguel has to do everything. Momma and I used to take a couple of our grooms with us, but now it’ll just be me when I go on the show circuit. Miguel has to stay behind and take care of the farm. Lacey goes when she can.” She shrugged. “It’s just the way it is now.”

  She baffled him and amazed him. “How do you keep all the balls in the air, Ellie?”

  “Very, very carefully.”

  7

  It was going to be a long day on the farm, but most days were. Ellie gave two lessons to students and then lunged a couple of the horses before Lacey arrived around nine thirty. Her friend climbed from her car, her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail and her smile as wide and friendly as ever. Ellie’s heart pinched tight as she thought of Lacey’s sweetness being abused by Brice Parker. But Brice wasn’t in the picture anymore, thank God. He’d finally done something unforgivable, and Lacey had dumped him. If only he’d sto
p harassing her, life would be perfect.

  Lacey reached into her car and retrieved two cups of coffee. Ellie accepted one with a grin when Lacey walked over.

  “You know me so well.”

  “I do. I know you haven’t been back up to the house yet to get another cup. I also know there’s a dumpster beside the house, and Max Brannigan’s truck is parked up there. Did you hire a contractor?”

  Oh, if only it were that simple. Ellie sipped her coffee and dreaded telling Lacey the truth. But Lacey was her oldest friend. If she couldn’t confide in Lacey, who could she confide in?

  “It’s not quite that easy to explain,” she began. She only hesitated once or twice, but she told Lacey all about the loan and the fact Max Brannigan now owned Applegate Farm—and apparently wanted to sell it so he could start his own business.

  Lacey looked a little shell-shocked. And then she launched into crisis mode, which was one of the things Ellie loved most about her. If Lacey came up against a situation she couldn’t control, she went about figuring out how to fix it and take back as much control as she could get. Other than the situation with Brice, she usually succeeded.

  “But you have until September, so that’s good. Champ will win at Louisville, someone will pay ridiculous money for him, and you can write Max a check. In the meantime, you get some free labor.”

  “What if Champ doesn’t win? I don’t want to sell him at a loss.” Ellie frowned. “I don’t want to sell him at all—but what choice do I have? He’s the only way I can keep the farm. I’ll never be able to afford to breed anything to him once he’s gone though.”

  “Which is why you have a couple of his babies on the ground now. Maybe one of them will follow in his footsteps.”

  It was always possible, which was why Ellie had very carefully chosen the mares and bred them to him. One of the four might have that element of greatness. Or they might not, but if Champ won at Louisville, their prices would go up immediately. They were currently his only babies on the ground, which would make them desirable.

  “And the point is,” Lacey continued, “you have some time here. Max can’t sell the farm yet. So don’t panic.”