by Molly Harper, Stephanie Haefner, Liora Blake, Gabra Zackman, Andrea Laurence, Colette Auclair
Around noon, Luke McCabe arrived in a big silver dually diesel pickup customized to carry farrier equipment, and parked near the entrance to the barn. Amanda introduced herself, shook his hand, and told him to set up in the entryway.
“Mind if my assistant Lena joins me?” He nodded at the border collie sitting in the passenger seat, ears perked. He had a low, soft voice with a shadow of a drawl.
“Not at all. If she’s okay with cats.”
“Yep.” He whistled softly and Lena bounced across the seat and out of the truck. She immediately curled up next to the wall and Amanda crouched to pet her. From her vantage point, she checked out the new farrier, who was straight out of central casting for Rugged Cowboy. He was six feet, two inches, his muscles hard from years of shoeing, his movements graceful as a mountain lion’s. He was broader than Grady, more burly, and she mentally poked herself in the eye for comparing. Grady’s looks were none of her concern. Luke’s, however, were.
Luke set a wheeled metal caddy loaded with nails, a nail puller, hoof trimmer, and other tools on the floor. He strapped on a leather apron and fired up the roaring, mailbox-sized forge on the side of his truck. He set a hoof stand on the floor and filled a metal bucket with water. Amanda got Rainy for him, holding her lead rope instead of clipping her to crossties in case the mare acted up. While Luke bent over a hoof with his back to her, Amanda was rewarded with a view of a pinch-worthy butt, framed by his apron. He wore a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and she caught glimpses of his tan forearms flexing. Not bad.
Amanda invited Solstice and Wave to watch, since they had never seen a horse being shod. They first pet Lena, then listened while Luke explained how he prepared the hoof for a new shoe as he pulled off the old shoe. He stretched the mare’s leg forward and set it on the hoof stand so he could trim the hoof wall. He held the hoof between his knees, cut away the excess hoof, and smoothed the edges with a rasp. Intermittently, he let the mare put her foot down so he could check the angle.
“Have to make sure everything’s balanced, or she’ll get sore,” he said. “Imagine if you had a pair of shoes that just didn’t fit right. Your feet would hurt something awful. Same with her.”
Amanda could tell the girls were fascinated. When he opened the forge’s thick door, their eyes widened as they peered into the glowing red oven. “This here’s where I do my baking. Don’t get too close. Had to eat two little kids last week.”
Wave and Solstice giggled and Wave said, “Don’t worry, we won’t get close!” The girls watched as he chose a metal shoe from several hanging on a rod and placed it against Rainy’s hoof. He put the shoe in the forge until it glowed, then hooked it on the anvil anchored on his truck. He hammered the edges, then pressed the glowing red metal against the mare’s hoof. Thick white smoke billowed and hissed. The acrid smell of burning hoof filled the air.
“Stop!” Wave said, backing into the barn.
“It’s okay,” Amanda said. “It doesn’t hurt her.”
“It’s like your fingernail,” Luke said. “I make sure the horses never get hurt.”
A few more adjustments and Luke was satisfied with the new shoe. He plunged it into the bucket of water, where it hissed as it cooled. Holding Rainy’s hoof between his knees, he nailed the shoe on, then trimmed the nail tips that poked through the hoof wall. He crimped them flush with the hoof and said, “Okay. Who’s next?” He waved the crimper in mock threat at the girls, who giggled and backed away.
However, even Luke’s excellent hoof-side manner couldn’t keep his young audience in place, and they left while Luke was shoeing Bramble. Amanda stayed most of the time, fetching horses and chatting with the amiable farrier who didn’t waste words.
When he finished, it was late afternoon. Amanda gave him a check. Luke thanked her and shook her hand, then held it purposefully. She looked up at him. He certainly was handsome, in that understated, manly, pickup-truck-commercial kind of way.
He spoke. “This might seem a little soon, but would you have dinner with me? I had a fine time talking with you today.”
Amanda knew she must’ve looked like an idiot as she stared up into his spring-green eyes with her mouth hanging open. Dinner? She had been thinking she needed to date, and—presto!—here was an invitation. She took a breath. What the hell? “Okay.”
“Tonight? Is that too soon?”
“Oh!” It was four o’clock. She did the date-prep math. “Well . . . yeah, sure.”
He squeezed her hand and released it. “Seven? I’ll pick you up.”
“Okay.” She felt like she had stepped off a small cliff.
He smiled, green eyes bright. Without another word, he settled his hat on his head, touched the brim with a nod, got in his truck, and he and Lena drove away. Amanda smiled and turned to go into the barn.
Wave was standing just inside the door, and Amanda jumped when she saw her. “Hey, kiddo. What’re you doing here?”
“Harris said you should come up at the usual time. He gave me one dollar.”
“Ask for two next time. Why did he send you instead of calling?”
“I was being ‘a culinary terrorist of the highest maggotude,’ ” Wave said carefully, and Amanda laughed.
“Tell him I’m sorry, but I can’t make it.”
“Are you going out to dinner with the horseshoe man?”
“I am.” A stab of panic bolted through her. She didn’t want Grady to know. For some reason, she felt distinctly uncomfortable about him learning she had a date.
A date. She had a date. It had been so long, she was inordinately excited as she showered, and afterward she even brushed on some mascara and lip gloss. She wasn’t sure where they were going, but figured for a first date in Aspen, jeans, strappy sandals, and a festive top would do the trick. She felt good—sexy, even. At ten minutes to seven she went down to the barn. She moseyed up and down the aisle, appreciating the new floor, peering into the stalls, and watching the horses in the enclosure beyond the stalls eating hay in the evening sun.
She heard Luke’s truck and a wave of nervous energy coursed through her as she heard his door slam shut. She straightened her top, smoothed her palms down her thighs, took a deep breath, and went to meet him. He stopped when he saw her and let out a low whistle. Amanda grinned, looked down, and felt her face heat up. Geez, how old was she?
“You look nice,” he said. He wore black jeans, a green dress shirt that brought out his eyes, and black cowboy boots. He was hatless, revealing some wavy sand-colored hair that would be just fine to look at over dinner.
“Thanks. So do you.”
“I guarantee nobody’s gonna look at me.” He guided her to the truck with a large, warm hand on the small of her back. He opened the door for her. She settled into the seat and relaxed a little. She would concentrate on Luke tonight. She would ask questions, absorb the answers, and ask follow-up questions. She would stay in the moment.
As Luke and Amanda left, Wave delivered her message to Harris just as Grady entered the kitchen.
“Did Amanda have a date?” Harris asked.
“I think so,” Wave said.
“Why do you think so?”
“Because he asked her if she would go out to dinner with him and she said she would. And he was nice.”
“How do you know he was nice?” Grady asked.
“Because we watched him put shoes on the horses, Dad. He was funny. Did you know their hoofs are like fingernails? And they don’t burn but they look like they are and they smoke? That’s what Luke told us.”
Luke took Amanda to an Italian restaurant in Aspen with face-flattering lighting and waist-thickening food. Her date blueprint worked well, so after two glasses of a Barbaresco and a barrage of questions, she was feeling loose limbed and at ease. She liked Luke—he was intelligent, modest, charming, had a sly sense of humor and a deep love for horses. She could imagine kissing him.
At a few minutes after ten, Luke’s pickup rumbled to a halt outside the barn. As Amanda st
arted to open her door, he said, “Hold on there,” jumped out of the truck, walked around the hood, and opened her door for her. As she carefully exited the cab, a gaggle of butterflies darted about in her stomach as the possibility of the good-night kiss loomed large. He closed the door and stood. In kissing range. Panic surged. To buy some time, she did the only thing she could think of. She babbled.
“Thank you so much for dinner! It was delicious and that place was great! My God, the wine alone was worth the trip in fact that may have been one of the best bottles of wine I’ve ever had, not that I drink wine all that often but I had a great time—”
“Amanda.”
“Yes?” He placed his finger under her chin, tipped her face up, and held her gaze with his pastel-green eyes before kissing her softly. He smelled of horses and spice.
He looked down at her and smiled, and she smiled back. He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her into him, then kissed her again. Her hands slipped around his back. His lips were soft, and he knew precisely how to create a perfectly balanced kiss, at the midpoint between wimpy and obnoxious.
Finally Luke moaned quietly, like a kid who has to get up for school, and lifted his head. “Better let you get some sleep,” he said. “I sure would like to see you again. May I call you?”
“I’d like that.”
He smiled. “G’night, beautiful.”
“Good night.” She watched him get into his truck. She watched until he started down the drive, then went to her apartment. It had been a good date.
In the house, Grady stepped away from the window as Luke’s truck disappeared down the drive. He had told himself he was just making sure Amanda returned home safely, which didn’t explain the jolt that ripped through his midsection when Luke kissed her. He even considered getting binoculars but decided he might miss something, and oh yeah, it was a pathetic idea. Then he wondered if the sprinklers would hit them if turned on, but by the time he figured out where the switch might be, it’d be too late. So, although annoyance and arousal jockeyed for position in his gut while watching them kiss, he couldn’t look away. He had to know if Luke stayed.
“Go home,” he said to the window. “Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.” He smacked the wall next to the window. He watched as Luke got back into his truck. “Yes!” he cheered. “Don’t come back.”
The next morning, after Wave’s lesson, the barn phone rang. It was Harris.
“So? Dish, girlfriend!”
“What are you talking about?” Amanda asked.
“I want deets on your date with Mr. I Make Manolo Blahniks for Seabiscuit.”
“You’ve been listening to a certain loose-lipped eight-year-old.”
“She’s on my payroll. So? Come on! ’Fess up. Was there canoodling? Did you awaken to his stubbly cheek as he kissed you good morning? Was he . . . substantial?”
“You’re gonna have to wait. Are we on for cocktails tonight?”
“You’re going to make me wait all day?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You are one sick bitch.”
“I’ll see you later, Harris.” She smiled and hung up.
The Harris cocktail hour was a ritual Amanda loved, especially since lately her days were filled with children and she craved adult conversation. As she made her way from the front door to the back patio, Grady emerged from Jacqueline’s office and almost ran into her.
“Oops!” Amanda said, laughing.
“Sorry,” he said, and sped away from her. He picked up velocity and disappeared around a corner. Was he running away? Was this because of their conversation at the ice cream parlor? She stood, pondered his flight, then continued to the patio.
This time the drink du jour was a Pimm’s Cup, and as usual, Harris’s was superlative. He and Amanda stretched out on their customary chaises while Amanda answered Harris’s multitude of questions about her date.
“Good kisser?”
“Very good. I might go as far as to say excellent. But, my God, it’s been so long, he might be terrible and I’m just desperate.”
“Will there be a round two?”
“If he asks, sure. What else have I got to do?”
“Oh, he’ll ask. But wait, I thought you liked him? Why the bored socialite schtick?” He affected a highbrow, Long Island lockjaw accent and said, “Oh, Muffy, I may as well toss the blue-collar fellow a bone. After all, what else have I got to do?”
“I like him. He’s nice. He’s handsome. Nice arms. Oh, and would you ever like his butt. But . . . I don’t know, it was weird to go on a date again. But it was fun, too.” She crinkled her nose and smiled. “It was fun to get dressed up and have a nice guy buy me dinner and flirt with me.” She didn’t dare tell him she was only dating Luke to keep from thinking about Grady. Harris was a confidante, but this was too embarrassing to share.
She then asked, “Is there something up with Grady?”
Harris raised his eyebrows. “Besides his star power?”
“Well, I thought things were okay between us—but I ran into him in the foyer and it was like I had Ebola.”
Harris grimaced, which he could do and still look good. “I think I know why . . . It’s . . . delicate. You may want to take a big fat swig of your Pimm’s.”
She did, because she knew the smart money trusted Harris in matters of alcohol.
“He had a dream about you.”
“So?”
“It was . . . a certain kind of dream.”
“A certain—” Dreadful understanding dawned. She looked at him, her mouth open, eyes open as wide as they could go. She looked around the patio as though afraid the furniture would hear, then whispered fiercely, “A sex dream?”
He grinned and nodded.
“Eeuw!” She put her head in her hands.
“If it makes you feel any better, he’s freaked out, too, which is why he told me. And he had two dreams.”
“Two?!”
“Dream Amanda is quite the vixen. Come on, if he’s going to dream about someone around here, it’s either you or Jacqueline, and nothing against Jacqueline, but a sex kitten, she’s not.”
“Oh right, like I am.”
“Don’t be so modest.”
“He should be having dreams about those actresses and supermodels he dates.”
“For the record, you’re certifiably hot, and he hasn’t dated any of those in years.”
She looked at him. “Why not?”
“He’s not like that anymore. He hasn’t avoided them, but nobody’s struck his fancy except Priscilla, and that lasted all of three seconds.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Looks like you’re Brunzy’s new It Girl.”
“Those dreams don’t mean anything. Just because he had them, doesn’t mean anything about what he thinks of me.”
“That’s what I told myself every time I had one about my high school chemistry teacher.”
“TMI! And why’d you tell me? Now I’m going to be weird around him.”
“To explain why he was running from you like white trash running from good taste. It wasn’t you—well, strictly speaking, it was you. Every tantalizing inch of you.”
Amanda looked at him, miserable.
“You should be flattered. Do you know how many women would kill to have Grady Brunswick dream about boffing them?” Harris paused. “Why don’t you two hook up, anyway? Make his dreams come true?”
“Harris! There’s nothing between us. There will never be anything between us. He’s my boss, and that alone makes it a horrendous idea. If it weren’t, those sayings would be do fish off the company pier and, yes, shit where you eat. Say we get together, it goes wrong, then I’m stuck here with him for the rest of the summer, feeling awkward. No thanks.”
“What if he wasn’t your boss? What if you met him at a Starbucks? Or in your case, the hay bale outlet.”
Her eyes flicked away from him and she looked around as though the answer were somewhere on the stones of the patio. She sighed. “It would
n’t matter. I’m leaving in September, and I don’t do flings.” Except maybe with Luke, she added in her head.
“Ah, but you’d consider it.”
“He’s very attractive. Anyone would.” She hoped she sounded flippant.
“But you’re not just anyone, Amanda Vogel. Neither is he.”
9
The next day a third Amanda dream woke Grady at dawn and this time he got up, in the mood for some serious flirting. He waited for Amanda in Titanium’s stall, talking softly to the horse, stroking his neck and feeding him carrots. She opened her apartment door, galloped down the stairs followed by the gray kittens, and left through the big door at the end of the barn nearest to the hay shed and riding ring. She returned soon, pulling a full hay cart.
“Good morning,” he called, not wanting to startle her.
“Oh! Good morning.” She rolled the cart into the aisle. “Do you need something?” She opened Rainy’s stall door and tossed in a couple of flakes.
“No. Woke up early. Had a dream about you. Thought it might be some kind of sign I should come down here.”
Her face flushed. “Oh. Okay.” She sounded strained. She tossed flakes of hay to Bramble. Grady rubbed Titanium’s forehead, and the black gelding pressed into his hand. Grady did this to kill time until Amanda made it to the Friesian’s stall, moments later. She slid open the door and expertly underhanded two flakes into the corner. Titanium immediately turned and buried his nose in his breakfast, and Grady stepped into the aisle.
“Don’t you want to know what my dream was about?”
“No.”
“Happy to tell you. You looked great,” he said, deliberately making his voice husky.
She avoided eye contact. “That’s nice. But no.” She opened Vern’s stall door and delivered the hay.