by Lane, Soraya
She shrugged. “I think he doesn’t know a thing about how long you’ll be needed. I’m the one in charge of my horses, and we can discuss your plan once you’ve seen what you need to do. Follow me.”
Sam did follow her, but he wasn’t about to blindly let her tell him what he was doing, or who was in charge. He wasn’t used to taking orders when it came to his work, and he wasn’t about to start saying “yes, ma’am” to her, either. She was hard to read; was she happy he was here to help or not?
“I think we need to establish some ground rules here,” Sam said, walking alongside her and noticing how golden the skin on her arms was, as if she spent most of her life outside under the sun. She was pretty in an expensive kind of way, her hair the perfect shade of blonde, her skin flawless and her riding attire impeccable. He doubted she was the horsewoman she liked to think she was. No doubt her father had indulged her, and she didn’t do anything other than look pretty and cash in her trust fund checks, but he’d wait and see before making a judgment call. “If I take on this job, and that’s a big if, then I have to be the one in charge of the horses and what work they need. We work my way or no way, otherwise there’s no point in me being here. I don’t take orders and I don’t get told what to do.”
She stopped walking, one hand on her hip as she stared at him. “Sam, my father might have made the call to you, but these are my horses. He wouldn’t even know one of their names, and I spend every day of my life working with them. If you can’t work with me, then you can’t work here.” He guessed she wasn’t one to mince her words. “I’m a big fan of your work, but I need us to be on the same page.”
He ran his fingers through his hair, desperate for a shower and ready to walk straight back to his car and get the hell away. Why had he decided to call by anyway? He didn’t need the work, and he definitely didn’t need to take shit from a woman trying to throw her weight around and tell him how to do his job. It was the one thing he was good at, and he wasn’t about to start taking orders.
“How about we take a look at what you’ve got here, and then we talk, okay?” he suggested, not about to argue with little miss princess and see her get all worked up. He could take a look, politely leave, then leave a message declining Ford’s offer. Who the hell did she think she was? “If the stallion’s a problem, and it seems like he is, then you probably aren’t handling him right. But if you want someone like me to work with him, then you need to step back and not interfere with the process.”
Mia looked defiant, hand on her hip still. She might be petite but she was tall—even in her flat riding boots she made a strong impression standing there, chin raised as she stared at him, aqua eyes not missing anything. She might be annoying the hell out of him, but she looked damn gorgeous doing it.
“I was looking forward to working with you, but it sounds like you’re not used to having anyone else in your team.”
“I don’t work in a team. I never have,” he replied with a shrug, pushing his fingers through his hair. “I have a method that works, and I don’t change it.”
She made a noise that sounded like a snort and he tried not to laugh. “You’re kidding me, right?”
If she hadn’t been so right, he’d have laughed at her, the way she threw that at him. But it was true. He wasn’t a team player and he never had been, unless his team involved a four-legged creature instead of another human being. But he didn’t need to be a team player to do the work he did.
“Look, I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot,” he said. “How about we take a look at the stallion and you can tell me a bit about him.” She was beautiful and fiery and he appreciated that in a woman, but this was work, not pleasure and he wanted to set the ground rules.
“Yeah, let’s do that,” Mia replied, sounding relieved. “The way I see it, there’s no point in you working a horse here without me learning from you, so I can put the same practices into place. That’s all.”
Sam didn’t reply, he just walked alongside her and quietly chuckled to himself about a cute, leggy blonde trying to give him a scolding about not being a team player. He’d take a look at her horses, politely give her an excuse about why he wasn’t right for the job, then head straight home and never come back. He didn’t need her telling him what to do, and he sure as hell didn’t need to be a riding coach for Walter Ford’s daughter, not even for two thousand dollars a day.
She obviously loved horses and wanted to learn, but Sam wasn’t interested in being anyone’s babysitter.
* * *
Mia glanced at Sam as they walked, amazed at what an asshole he was. How had she crushed on him for so long and not realized what a jerk he would be in real life? Or maybe he wasn’t, maybe he was just a guy used to doing his job a certain way and she’d rubbed him the wrong way. Or he was so damn handsome he was used to woman dropping at his feet. But she’d gone from furious with her father for enlisting his services to excited about learning from a man that so many in the horse world were calling a genius. Only it was quickly becoming apparent that he wasn’t used to working with anyone other than himself and whatever horse he was focused on.
Or maybe, just like everyone else in her life, he didn’t take her seriously. To almost anyone she met, she was the pretty, rich blonde who spent her time playing with horses instead of working a real job, and she hated that. She’d thought Sam would take her seriously, that they’d bond over their mutual love of equines, that she’d be able to talk to him about her horses and learn from him, but it looked like he was no different than anyone else.
“How many horses do you have here?” Sam asked.
She wished he wasn’t so damn handsome. His eyes were as brown as the darkest shade of chocolate, his skin so tanned she wondered if he’d ever spent a day inside in his life, and his hair was just a bit too long the way it brushed his ears and dipped close to his eyes when he put his head down. She hadn’t been able to ignore how lean he was either, or how at odds that was with the breadth of his shoulders and his height. He was all sinewy muscle under that plaid shirt, she was sure of it, only her fantasies of finding out for herself how he looked without his clothes on were fading. She doubted they’d get that far if they were already at odds within minutes of meeting.
Mia slowed as they reached the stables, smiling at the beautiful horses looking out over the half doors, obviously curious about who was coming to visit.
“I have four of my own, plus the stallion that my father told you about. I keep all mine here, stabled overnight and out during the day unless I’m working them.”
He walked closer and so did she, grinning when her favorite mare, Indi, nickered out to her. She was always the most vocal of the group, and Mia never tired of her call. When she’d been working in Europe, it was Indi she’d taken with her to compete. She liked to win, hell, she only competed to win, and Indi was worth her weight in gold.
“You work with the ranch horses too?”
She nodded. “I oversee them all, but we don’t keep them up here. I had this purposely built for my horses, with the arena and other facilities I needed. We keep the rest of them turned out closer to the main ranching facilities.” Mia gestured to the right, where the main barn was located, the roof just visible. “Our foreman runs the show over there, but I like to check on their health and make sure they’re getting well looked after. They’re definitely under my watch.”
“Impressive place you have here,” Sam said, stopping outside Indi’s stall and stroking her cheek. Mia couldn’t help but notice how relaxed her sometimes highly-strung mare was as Sam touched her, and she wondered if the horse whisperer tag might actually have merit. Although she already knew from watching him at his shows that he was talented, unless half of the horses he worked with had already been trained and it was all an illusion for the crowd and cameras.
“So do you want to see them all or just the stallion?” she asked, watching him, trying to read his expression that had seemed, until now, completely impassive.
�
�Do you need help with the others?” he asked.
“How much do you know about show jumping?” she asked wryly. She was used to having top trainers, and she was open to learning anything and everything about her favorite four-legged creatures, but she doubted even Sam Mendes could help with her jump training.
“Ah, and here I was thinking you were a Western rider.” His smile hit his eyes, making them soften, and she wished it didn’t make her heart skip a bit. It made it a lot harder to hate him. “So you’re a show jumper or an aspiring one?”
“Let’s be honest, Mr. Mendes. You thought I was a rich girl with a string of expensive horses that I play around with every day instead of working a real job. Trust me, I’m thick skinned, and to be honest I’m kind of used to it by now.”
This time she didn’t find his chuckle and smile so endearing. “Maybe I thought that.” He grinned. “Hell, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t still think that.”
She glared at him, but she did appreciate his honesty. “Well, you’d be wrong. And no, thank you, I don’t need any help with any of these horses right now. And no, I wouldn’t classify myself as aspiring.” She’d been aspiring as a teen; now she was a full-fledged show jump rider who made money from riding the show jumping circuit and goddamn winning.
Mia could have slapped his hand away from Indi’s nose. She didn’t even want the man touching her horse, let alone thinking he could act all superior to her. She’d just finished a successful season in Europe competing against some of the best riders in the world, and she took her reputation as a professional rider as seriously as successful people took their careers, so she wasn’t about to let him make her feel inferior. One thing she was not was a pathetic little rich girl living off a trust fund and not working hard.
“He’s down here,” she grumbled, pushing past Sam and taking the lead. She shouldn’t have expected Sam to know, hell, he probably knew nothing about show jumping, and she’d always been careful to stay under the radar, but being treated like a complete amateur had rubbed her the wrong way.
“You want to grab a halter or something for him?” Sam asked, his voice husky, lower than it had been before.
“I wouldn’t bother,” she said. “No one can get near that damn horse right now, so the best you’ll get today is a look at him, unless you’re God himself.”
Sam raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, and she guessed the arrogant horseman probably thought that he’d be able to get near him if he wanted to. She almost hoped the horse would teach him a lesson.
“I doubt even someone as good as you is going to get so much as a rope near this one,” she said defiantly as they approached.
* * *
Sam leaned on the wooden railings of the fence and stared at the stallion. He was gorgeous. He was the kind of horse that he loved looking at, and given the way he’d rolled his eyes and snorted at them the moment they’d come close to him, he was the kind of horse Sam instinctively knew he wanted to work with. His coat was a rich, mahogany brown, and it gleamed in the sun although covered in a light layer of dust. The white blaze down the front of his face was like a paint splash that extended all the way to the tip of his nose.
This was the type of horse he loved, and this was how he’d started out in the business. He took on horses that no one else could train, and he slowly worked them until he gained their trust, and in time changed their entire temperament toward the people trying to handle them.
“He’s a damn fine stallion,” he said to Mia, noticing that she was leaning on the fence too, her elbows pressed against the timber.
He hitched his heel on the rail and turned his body to face her, wishing he’d brought his hat as he squinted into the sun.
“You know, I think we need to start over,” he said.
She kept staring straight ahead, but he saw the kick of a faint smile. “You think?”
He laughed, knowing he’d probably sounded like a jerk. But he wanted the job now, and up until a few minutes ago, he’d thought he’d be fleeing the scene as soon as he could.
“This stallion, he needs my help.”
This time she did turn to face him, folding her arms across her chest. “You’re so arrogant that one look at him and you know you’re the right person to step in and help him?”
He’d offended her earlier and now she had her back up. He deserved it, but he wasn’t exactly sure how to handle the situation. He tried smiling. “Look, there’s only one thing in this life that I’m any good at, and it’s helping horses that have a crappy outlook on life. I can tell just looking at him that he’s too much for you to handle. Look at the arrogant son of a bitch, the way he’s holding himself and looking at us.”
Her stare became ice cold. “Really? You can tell that just from looking at me, can you? And you have the nerve to say the horse is the asshole?”
Sam knew he wasn’t helping things, and he had no idea how to dig himself out of the hole he’d dug. “Look, I want to help,” he said simply. “You’re right, I have no idea what kind of rider or horsewoman you are, but what I do know is that there is a big damn horse, and he either has no respect for people or he’s been traumatized. Maybe a little of both.” He frowned, considering the horse again before looking back at Mia. “But he’s too big to behave like that, and one day soon he’ll end up hurting someone, and I’m guessing that someone will be you.”
Mia turned away from him again then, something passing over her, something he couldn’t put his finger on. At the end of the day, he’d walk away and forget about the stallion if he had to, but something about the horse’s eye, the way he’d backed up the moment they’d come near, his defiant stance, spoke to him. Reminded him why he did what he did. He didn’t like giving up on horses that needed his help, and he didn’t want to give up on this one now that he’d seen him. It wouldn’t be so easy to tell Ford no, not now.
“You can’t work with me, but you can watch me,” he said, knowing he had to offer Mia something.
“Should I be thanking you for your generosity?” she asked, looking less than impressed.
“No, but if you want me to work him, then I need space, and I need to be able to do it my way.”
“You don’t work alone when you’re doing your exhibitions,” she pointed out. “I thought you liked teaching people, or is that just part of the act to get us all to come to your shows?”
Sam grinned. So she’d been to one of his shows. “No, but people don’t bring me true problem horses to those events. They bring me horses with quirks, horses they already love, and it doesn’t take me a lot to iron out those kinks. Or the young horses they bring me to start working with, they’re well-loved animals that respond quickly to my training.”
She was quiet and he watched her, intrigued when she brushed a tear from her cheek, eyes never leaving the stallion.
“I love him,” she muttered quietly, “so don’t go thinking he’s unloved.”
Sam went to say something then shut his mouth. He had no idea what he’d walked into, what kind of issues this horse had or why Mia was so loyal to the animal, but he guessed he’d slowly find out. If she let him.
“How long has he been here?” Sam asked, climbing over the railing, his back to Mia now.
“Two months,” she said. “He’s unpredictable, so don’t take your eyes off him.”
“Why him? Why did you buy him?”
She didn’t answer and he decided not to repeat the question.
“I should have bought Tex and had him put to sleep the day he arrived,” she said, her voice so low that he only just heard it. “But I didn’t, and I can’t.”
Sam didn’t need to know any more. The stallion could tell him the rest.
He watched this Tex move, entranced by the noble, arrogant way he held his head and lifted his hooves. When he stopped he snorted, pawing at the ground, his hoof thumping against the hard-packed dirt as he stared Sam down. And then he charged at him. Out of nowhere, with no warning, he aggressively galloped tow
ards him.
“Whoa!” Sam commanded, standing his ground, staring the horse in the eye and moving towards him. He wasn’t about to start with the stallion thinking he had the upper hand, but it did strike him that perhaps his first move should have been a quick leap over the fence.
Sam moved smoothly out of his way, careful with each footfall, not blinking as he watched the stallion. He was in his space, and the horse wanted him out, that much was clear. His dark coat gleamed in the sunshine, his four perfect white stockings stretching up his legs to the knee, white blaze high as he defiantly held his head up.
He stayed out of his way, still staring at him, but not ready to challenge the stallion head-on yet. He would respect his space and figure out how to get through to him another day, right now he just didn’t want the horse to think he’d scared him.
“He is an asshole,” Mia muttered, looking worried as Sam hauled himself down from the fence. “I shouldn’t have argued with you about that before.”
“The problem isn’t that he’s an asshole, it’s what made him think that he should hate the world. Horses aren’t born mean,” he said, brushing his hands down his jeans.
“I know.”
He stared at her. “So either you tell me why he’s hardwired this way, or I figure it out myself, but either way I’m signing that contract and I’ll see you here on Monday morning.”
She looked surprised. “You’re actually going to take the job?”
“Unless you’re interviewing other candidates?”
She scowled at him, clearly not appreciating the joke.
“I’ll see you two days from now, then,” she said.
Sam didn’t wait for her to walk him out. Instead he held up his hand in a wave and headed back for his car on his own. He’d take the letter home with him, sign it, then make his way back after the weekend. Right now he needed to get home, take a hot shower, then fall into bed.
He smiled, thinking about the look on Mia’s face. She was beautiful and headstrong, and he liked that in a woman. Except he hadn’t been in the market for almost a year and he wasn’t about to be now. He wouldn’t have made a play for Walter Ford’s daughter anyway. Besides the fact that he didn’t do relationships, he didn’t mix business with pleasure, and he doubted she’d be the kind interested in casual sex.