In the end, that had meant pushing aside his other case files and digging more deeply into anything and everything he had collected so far about her. He’d read the report he and Mac had discussed, front and back, several times, making more notes each time. The prickling sensation on the back of his neck refused to go away, and in fact, only grew stronger with each subsequent study of the information at hand. Which wasn’t to say he’d ferreted out any evidence whatsoever that damned her in any way. Which was both relieving and irritating as all hell. Instincts this strong were rarely wrong. But they were usually rooted in something substantive. There had to be more here than he was seeing. And yet, at the same time, he’d never wanted more to be wrong.
His frustration with himself and the whole damn ordeal was finally what had driven him down to the paddock earlier today. Keeping his distance wasn’t giving him the clarity he wanted. And all the attention to the details of the reports he’d gathered wasn’t going to lead to anything until he talked with her again.
But then the incident with Bonder had happened and, once again, he’d been thrown off stride. He’d been both terrified for her, and mesmerized by her. She could have been dragged, trampled, or worse, and yet she’d leapt up, had the presence of mind to direct him to stay back, and had charged right after that crazed idiot of a horse, as if it were nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, the only part she’d been upset about was that her attempts to keep the damn thing from plowing down her young barn assistant might have caused the horse an injury.
He eased open the outer paddock gate and closed it behind him, careful to stay close to the fence as he edged his way to the stable doors. He should probably have changed clothes. Or shoes, anyway. In fact, he could have waited until tomorrow. Should have, probably. But another night spent thinking about the conversation he wanted to have without actually having it simply wasn’t tenable.
So he’d asked after her at the main stables, and had been told she was out here checking up on her mare. It was a calculated risk, what with him already preoccupied with her, to talk to her on what was arguably her own turf, but perhaps she’d be more relaxed away from the bustle of the main stables and all the attendant ears that went with it.
He wasn’t sure whether to tap on the metal doors to announce his arrival, or if that would spook her horse, so he simply lifted the main latch and slowly began easing the door along the tracks. It made enough noise despite his care, grinding and squealing, that he hadn’t gotten it half open when she was already calling out.
“Hello?”
He slipped inside, and seeing her at the opposite end of the aisle, with her mare in cross ties, opted not to close the door behind him, just to save them both the ear-splitting noise.
“You should get Kate to have that looked at,” he said, as he walked down the aisle toward her.
She looked at herself, then at the horse, then back to him, confusion on her face. “Look at what?”
He jabbed his finger over his shoulder. “Those doors. I’m surprised you’re not half deaf.”
“Ah,” she said, lips curving in that half smile he’d already learned she sported more often than not. “Pretty standard for metal doors. Not much you can do about it. We’re used to it.”
He forced his attention away from her open and intelligent face to the stall doors he was passing. He hadn’t paid any real attention when he’d come out here the first time, as his focus was on her and the vet. He knew some of the employees kept their own mounts at Dalton Downs, but there were only two others out here that he could see. “Where are the rest of the horses?”
“There are only three out here. The others are stabled with the class horses and Bonder down at the main building.”
“Why some here and some there?”
He paused a few feet away by an empty stall door.
“Partly because they do better with the hustle and bustle, partly for convenience.”
“And yours?” Even a novice could see that her horse was either incredibly heavy in the middle or hugely pregnant.
“Calm is good for her right now.”
“When is she due?”
“Few more months.”
He strolled closer, careful to keep to the side. Elena was grooming her horse, using some kind of pick to clean out one of the hooves.
“Did you ride her?” he asked.
“No, just walked her. But it’s muddy out there.” She glanced up at him. “It’s good for her, but to be honest, I think the grooming routine is as therapeutic for me as it is her.”
His lips curved. “The Zen of horse maintenance?”
She shot him a quick smile. “Something like that.”
“How is she doing? I mean, is everything going okay with the pregnancy this time?”
“So far, so good. I don’t think I’ll relax until she foals, though.”
“Do you have any plans for the baby?”
He’d said it lightly, but he noticed a telltale pause in her motions.
“In what way do you mean?”
“Are you keeping it? Or…I mean, I don’t know how it works with horses. I didn’t know if it was promised to someone else or if you are selling it. You know, like when a dog has puppies.”
She recovered easily enough, but, and only because he was watching for it, her casual response seemed a bit forced. “I suppose it could be like puppies. It all depends on why the horse was bred.”
He said nothing, waiting for her to elaborate. When she said nothing, just continued to clean Springer’s hooves, he nudged a little more. “What’s Springer’s story? I know she had problems last time, so were you always planning to try again? Or—well, I guess it’s not like dogs where accidents happen and they end up with an unplanned pregnancy, but—”
“Oh, accidents can happen, even with horses.” She wasn’t looking at him, focusing instead on removing pebbles and debris from Springer’s hoof, but Rafe’s instincts remained on full alert.
He’d intended to prod her into talking more about herself, and figured her horse was a good conversational gambit, only now he was wondering if there was something more there. To the outward eye, she was simply busy working, but she was almost overly focused now, as if trying too hard to appear casual. It could be that he was reading something into nothing, given his fixation with trying to locate the source of his intuition where she was concerned…but he didn’t think so.
He didn’t have time to analyze the situation and ask questions accordingly, so he’d have to follow his gut—he knew he needed to tread carefully, make sure she didn’t suspect his line of questioning was anything more than simple, novice curiosity. “I’d think in a big operation like Charlotte Oaks, they would be pretty careful about keeping horses in heat away from the stallions.”
“They do. Not too many mares around, anyway. Most of the breeding is done artificially. Usually the mare isn’t even on premises, but boarded elsewhere. A racing facility isn’t really the most conducive place for a restful gestation.”
“Which is why you moved her up here?”
She nodded, then shifted back to work on the hind hoof. “I’d been planning on leaving anyway, so it seemed as good a time as any.”
“So, what made you decide to breed her again? Was it because you were planning to go and wanted to take advantage of being on a racing farm with good stock? Is she a valuable horse or something?”
“Not all horses are bred for racing lines. Sometimes babies are just babies.”
“So, you do plan to keep it.”
“Not sure yet. I’m not making any plans until he or she arrives.”
“If you don’t want to keep the baby, what do you do? Run an ad? Is it like selling puppies after all, just on a grander scale or something?”
“Or something,” she said, that dry smile resurfacing again. “Word of mouth works just fine, too.”
“So…if you bred her to racing stock and she’s not racing stock, would the baby still be considered a purebred? Again, I can onl
y compare to dogs. Not that I know anything about breeding them, either, but I know a purebred is worth more than a mutt.”
“Like I said, sometimes a baby is just a baby. Springer is a good riding mount. A lot of people just want horses for pleasure riding. As for purebred, just like dogs, that has to do with the breed of horse, not whether both race. In fact, the mares used to breed racing stock are rarely racers themselves.”
“Like Springer? What breed is she?”
Elena straightened and moved around the front of the horse to the other side, away from him. “You’re full of a lot of questions this evening.”
“Just curious. They are a fairly substantial presence at the farm here, but I really know nothing about them. I grew up in the city. We didn’t have horses or farms.”
“Kate said something about you, Mac, and Finn going to camp together every summer in upstate New York. Her mom owned it, or something? Weren’t there horses up there?”
So, she’d been asking about him. His initial reaction was to be pleased and flattered, as a man would be when a woman he was interested in showed the same in return. Which was the wrong reaction entirely, given his real reason for being down here. Especially in light of this new line of questioning. And yet…that was the first thing he’d felt. A good reminder that he wasn’t as objective here as he wanted to believe. “Yes, the camp had horses, but I never went anywhere near them.”
“They can be intimidating.”
“That, and the girls in camp didn’t seem inclined to spend a lot of time down at the stables. They enjoyed the water sports more.”
Elena chuckled. “Ah. Well, girls in bikinis trump mucking out stalls pretty much every time. If you’re a teenage boy, anyway.”
He grinned. “I don’t think age has anything to do with it.”
She looked down at her dusty, raggy overalls. “Darn, and me without my bathing suit.”
She was flirting with him. In her own way, but it was damn effective. Either that or she was cleverly getting him off the subject of her horse. Regardless, it was working. Especially since he was now imagining just what kind of figure she had underneath the shapeless overalls she favored.
“What brings you down here tonight, anyway?” she asked, continuing to take the conversational lead. “Surely not a lesson on horse biology.”
Apparently they were finished talking about Springer. He wanted to poke around a bit more, question her about her time at Charlotte Oaks and get more into the specifics of Springer’s breeding. There was something going on there, but he couldn’t figure out what. But if he pushed too much more, it would be beyond the bounds of polite interest. So he shelved it. For now. At least he had another lead to pursue. He just wished he felt better for having discovered it.
“No. I was just following up on before, when I came out to the paddock to see about working another lesson into your schedule, and—”
“Bonder decided he was done with his lesson.”
Rafe wandered to the other side of the aisle when she moved to the rear hoof on Springer’s far side and leaned against the post between stalls. “He’s pretty much a nutcase, isn’t he?”
“You would be, too, if you’d been abused like he was. Kate wants to find out how far we can rehab him. And, frankly, so do I.”
“Is he really worth all the time, not to mention the possible danger? I’m guessing he’ll never be allowed anywhere near Kate’s kids.”
She straightened again and walked over to where he was standing. “Excuse me,” she said, motioning to the carryall behind him which had the rest of her grooming supplies loaded into it.
“Sorry.” He stepped aside, but not as far as he might have. He told himself he just wanted to see her eyes up close, get a better gauge on just how settled she really was with their conversation.
She lifted the carryall by the handle, but paused before putting space between them. “No,” she answered, “he wouldn’t be. But everyone deserves a chance to get their life back, get themselves back. Even broken-down, abused horses that nobody gives a damn about. Don’t you think?”
He was listening, but up close like this, with the overhead light shining across her cheeks, he got caught up in those damn freckles. For someone so forthright and confident, the innocence they projected seemed incongruous. And yet he found them somewhat endearing, and it reminded him that no matter how tough the exterior, everyone was vulnerable in some way.
“Sounds like that ideal might come from some personal place.” He held her gaze, liking it more than he should when she stood her ground. Ground that kept her in direct proximity to him.
“Isn’t your business all about helping to fix the injustices in the world?”
“As I said before, it’s nothing so lofty as all that,” he replied.
“Still, whatever motivates you, the bottom line comes down to giving someone a chance for a better outcome than they’d otherwise have. That’s what I’m giving Bonder. A chance to regain his health, and exist in a world that he can interact with and take joy from.”
“Then he’s lucky to have found you.”
“Kate found him.” Her lips quirked at the corners, and that gleaming light entered her doe-brown eyes, ensuring his rapt attention wouldn’t stray even if he wanted it to, which he didn’t. “I’m just the glass-half-full sap who can’t say no to a head case with a penchant for grape Popsicles. I mean, what’s not to love?”
Rafe’s smile came slowly. “You’re an interesting woman, Elena Caulfield.”
“There’s an ambiguous compliment. At least I’m choosing to take it as one.”
“It was meant as one. I can’t say I’ve met anyone like you.”
Her dry smile spread to a grin that was as unaffected as it was honest. And he swore he felt something dip somewhere in the vicinity of his chest.
“You don’t hang around the right places,” she said. “Horse stables are filled with interesting women.”
“No doubt.” But there was only one who’d captured his attention. And it was becoming a real struggle to keep in mind why he’d sought her out in the first place.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to see to the rest of Springer’s grooming.” She stepped around him. “I don’t get to spend as much time with her as I’d like to.”
“Is that a subtle way of telling me you can’t fit in another lesson? Or would rather not?”
She set her carryall on a stool and pulled out a flat, wooden brush with a strap she slid over the back of her hand. She began stroking the sides of her horse with the brush, glancing back at him over her shoulder. “No, it just means I don’t get to spend as much time with her as I’d like. When do you want to take another lesson?”
“I’ll defer to your schedule. What would be best for you?”
She paused and turned to look at him more fully. And smiled. “How early do you get up?”
Chapter 10
Elena backed down the ladder from her loft apartment over the outer stables, yawning deeply and wishing like hell she’d remembered to set the timer on the coffeepot the night before. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, and last night the temperatures had dipped down a bit further than they had recently, making for a chilly late-spring morning. She shivered despite the long underwear top she’d donned under her overalls this morning. Teach her to be a smart-ass and offer a dawn class. But then, she hadn’t really expected him to take her up on it. He struck her as more night owl than early bird. Serve her right if he stood her up. Her luck, Rafe was probably still tucked in his nice, warm bed. Which was where she should be. Well, not in Rafe’s bed, but…
No way could she stop the visuals that accompanied that little mental slip. It wasn’t a shot of warm coffee, but it did have the added benefit of getting her blood pumping a little faster. Of course, if she were in the same bed as Rafe, she wouldn’t need any coffee, just…stamina.
“Morning.”
His voice surprised her, making her lose her footing on the last rung. An insta
nt later, two strong hands palmed her waist and steadied her as both feet reached the ground. She could have told him that putting his hands on her was not the way to steady her at the moment, but she was too busy trying to rally her thoughts away from imagining him manhandling her like this while they were both naked amongst tousled sheets.
Then he was turning her around, and she was getting her first look at a scruffy, early-morning Rafe. And whatever words she might have found evaporated like morning mist under a rising sun.
Goodness knows, her temperature was rising.
He had on an old, forest-green sweatshirt and an even older pair of jeans if the frayed edges and faded thighs and knees were any indication. It was standard weekend-morning clothing for most men, but until that moment, she’d have been hard-pressed to visualize it on him. Of course, on most men, that combination would have given them a disheveled look at best. In fact, she was feeling incredibly disheveled herself at the moment. Rafe, on the other hand, without even trying, looked like he’d just stepped off the pages of the latest Ralph Lauren ad. She would have resented the ease with which he made scruffy so damn sexy, except she was too busy fighting off the waves of lust the look inspired.
“Need help getting something down from up there?”
She somehow managed to drag her gaze away from his face to look, probably somewhat blankly, back up the ladder. His hands were still gripping her waist, so she had to be forgiven for her dazed reaction.
“Uh, no, I don’t think I forgot anything. Except coffee.”
“You keep coffee in the stable crawl space?”
She frowned, then realized the source of his confusion. “I live up there. It’s an old manager’s office that Mac converted to a small efficiency for Kate when she first came. I thought you would know that.”
A smile played around his lips. And really, should he still have his hands on her? And why wasn’t she moving away? Sure, he had her sort of pinned between him and the ladder at her back, but if she really wanted to get away from him…She gave up the pretense.
The Black Sheep and the Hidden Beauty Page 11