“You don’t have to work this hard around here. I keep telling you.”
“I know. This is cathartic, though, and my muscles aren’t so sore today.”
“I don’t mind mucking stalls either.”
“Mookin’.” She grinned. “Doesn’t sound very Yank-ish to me.”
“Oh, don’t you start. I’m a man lost between two worlds. Have a care.”
“Did you know she was coming?”
“I did not.”
“She’s gorgeous.”
“Yes. Always was. She’s got a bit of mature beauty now, too, but between you, me, and that muck fork, she’s on the thin side of attractive for me.”
“Seriously?” She seemed genuinely surprised. “No sparks for your old fiancée?”
“After the shock wore off, it was nice to see her. But no. Nine years is plenty long enough to lose a spark.”
“Why? Didn’t you marry her, I mean.”
She braced the fork tines on the stall floor and leaned on the handle, every millimeter of her face engaged and interested without a speck of judgment. She shone like a flame-colored rose in the sunlight.
“She threw me off,” he said. “Said I’d changed too much after I got back from the Middle East.”
“Was she right?”
“She was. Iraq changed everyone who went.”
“Were you all right? Were you injured?”
She’d surprised him again with her abrupt switch in focus, honing right in on him and setting questions about Kate aside. He considered kissing her again.
“No, no, nothing like that. It made me a little less open, I guess. I learned to avoid fighting because I’d seen too much of it, but Kate said I’d turned into someone who didn’t care about anything anymore.”
“I know that’s not true. I’m living proof.”
She was living proof all right, that a man’s fantasy could be curvy and ponytailed and tattooed—and honest, tough, and stubborn. He studied her faded jeans, her small but clever hands, and her bright blue eyes waiting for his reply. His heart swelled—a sensation he didn’t remember having for a woman before, not even Kate all those years ago.
He couldn’t stand her closeness, her natural beauty, her features still soft from sleep, any longer without reacting. “God, Rio, can I kiss you again?”
Her lips opened, then closed, and she giggled. “Really? Twice we just pounce on each other and suddenly he asks?”
“I’m trying not to give away that I’ve been thinking about it ever since yesterday morning. I was afraid I’d truly offended you since when you left you seemed, unhappy?”
“Only with myself. For sounding like such an idiot.”
“You did?”
“Don’t make me repeat it.” Her hand shot out and grasped the front of his T-shirt. “And don’t be so polite. I liked the surprise when you just did it.”
She dropped the muck fork and made no protest when he pushed her backward until her back flattened against the boards of the stall wall. Bent over her, he felt protective, powerful, wanted. A sharp thrill sped down the cords of his neck when her fingers ransacked his hair, and his stomach tightened when she opened her mouth in invitation and waited for his tongue to enter. She hmmm’d against his lips and squeaked a little when he ran one hand up the side of her hip to the indentation of her waistline.
He didn’t ask whether she’d still like it better if he didn’t touch her. He’d either read her correctly yesterday and was doing so again now, or she’d slap him. Either way, his fingers slipped around to her stomach and up her rib cage to the swell of her breast where he fingered the mini-erection of her nipple.
No slap.
She mewled in enjoyment. He lipped her chin and trailed his kisses to her neck. She hunched her shoulders and laughed. “If you could feel my goose bumps, you’d be awfully proud of yourself.”
“Who says I can’t feel them?”
“I’ll bet a lot it’s not like I can.”
She flexed her fingers against his scalp, dragged them down his neck and across his shoulders. The lightning flash of gooseflesh down his spine rocked him forward so their pelvises meshed. “I’ll take your bet,” he whispered.
Her hands continued journeying while her mouth plied his with soft urgency. When her fingers reached his waist they curled against the back of his shirt and gathered the fabric until it pulled free of his breeches. Eagerly she burrowed under the hem to touch his skin.
“Nice,” she murmured against his lips.
“This is highly unorthodox,” he groaned back.
“Oh, if that doesn’t sound like my duke. Unorthodox, indeed, Your Grace—”
“David?”
The voice from the barn door pulled a squeal from Rio, and David cut it off with his mouth, then pulled away and replaced his kiss firmly with his forefinger. “Kate,” he whispered. “What in God’s name is she doing here this early?”
Rio dragged his hand away and kissed his fingertip. “Maybe she couldn’t sleep either.”
He grinned while stepping back and putting his shirttails to rights. Just as in the woods, they’d managed to make each other completely unpresentable without doing much of anything.
In his rational mind he knew there was no sanity in this attraction, yet he was like a randy schoolboy around her. People often called him proper, but Rio Montoya had snogged the proper right out of him.
He asked with raised eyebrows if she was ready, and she nodded. “We’re down at the end of the aisle,” he called. “Last stall on the right, Kate.”
He poked his head out the door in time to see her glide into the barn like a swan, long-necked and elegant. As he had yesterday, he waited, expecting his pulse to elevate the way it had before he’d left for Iraq. Or, barring that, for his heart to reshatter in his chest the way it had when she’d broken their engagement the year after he’d returned. Neither happened.
Ducking back into the stall, he squared his shoulders. “We don’t have to hide this, you know.”
Her blue eyes softened into puddles of wonder, but she shook her head again. “I don’t understand this sneaking kisses like horny tenth-graders after only four days.” She echoed his thoughts. “Nobody else will get it either.”
“Hello. This is a rather aromatic place to start the morning.” Kate appeared at the stall door just as David grasped the handles of the wheelbarrow.
“The smell of Heaven on Earth, Kate, don’t you remember?” David smiled and she stepped aside as he pushed the loaded wheelbarrow out the door.
“It’s been a while since I’ve spent time around horses. Good morning, Rio. Has he really got you mucking stalls, too? After cooking and cleaning up last night?”
Was she being condescending? He couldn’t hear it, but he was a complete clot about women’s subtext, and these two together worried him.
Rio only shook her head. “No, it’s really the opposite. He’s tried to tell me I don’t need to work around here, but he’s done so much for my sister and for me, I really want to help. Besides, being around horses has always been a dream of mine. Even the smell is still a novelty.”
Kate laughed. “You’re a nicer woman than I am. Well, I came to tell the both of you that Stella has breakfast ready.”
“Good heavens, you and Mum weren’t even out of bed half an hour ago.”
“Of course we were, love.” Kate waved her hand dismissively. “We took our time in the bath is all. Still a bit of jet lag. We’ll be positively useless come one or two o’clock. Take us while you have us.”
“I’m not touching that line.” He laughed. “Fine. I’ll dump this and then we’ll come in. Okay?” He turned to check with Rio.
“Sure.”
“When do you start working at The Loon?” he asked her.
“Monday. Ten to four-thirty. But I need to make sure that’s okay with you. I agreed to the day shift so Claudia can stay home after I’m trained and take care of her garden, but that means Bonnie has to occupy herself here. I
don’t want to assume she can roam around mooching lessons off of Jill or—”
“Hey.” David set the wheelbarrow back down and turned to her. “Stop worrying about her. You’ve seen to it she’s a great kid. She’ll be no trouble.”
“Thank you.”
“That’s our David,” Kate said. “Generous to a fault.”
It was the first annoying thing Kate had said. “Hardly,” he said. “Rio and Bonnie have more than earned their keep since day one.”
The instant the words were out he wanted to kick himself. First of all, Rio didn’t have to earn her keep as far as he was concerned. This was a safe place for her to stay, end of discussion. Second of all, he and Rio were sneaking around like they were the criminals. He didn’t want her to think for one moment that was part of earning her keep. He tried to catch her eye, but she was sifting soiled shavings meticulously through her manure fork.
“Of course I didn’t mean to imply it was a hardship. Just that you’ll stop to help anyone.”
A loud, plaintive mew kept David from telling her to stop talking. He looked down and found Thirty-one had reappeared.
“What a beautiful little cat!” Kate squatted.
“I’d be very careful with that one,” David said. “It’s like a Hydra. Practically grows a second evil head for anyone except Rio.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s adorable.”
Kate stroked Thirty-one’s arched back and David rolled his eyes. Obviously the animal was a feline feminist that simply hated men. But then Kate picked her up, and Thirty-one immediately stiffened.
“See?” Kate said and took a step toward David. “She’s—”
In a snarl of pumpkin and ebony, Thirty-one spat and twisted out of her arms. Kate shrieked as the claws left launching marks, and David bit his lip to keep an I-told-you-so grin from showing. To his surprise, the cat twined around his legs twice before zipping over to Rio and performing the figure-eight around her ankles, as well.
Rio picked the cat up and it settled into her arms. A warped sense of pride wound through David’s chest.
“Well, honestly, that’s the strangest thing I’ve ever seen.” Kate rubbed her forearms. “I should say she seems to be your cat.”
“We’ve adopted each other,” Rio replied. “I don’t think she’s really anybody’s cat but her own.”
Kate nodded in bemusement and touched David lightly on the arm. “I’ll go tell your mum you’re on your way. She’s doing up some porridge and eggs.”
“Okay. Your arm all right, then?”
“It’ll be absolutely fine, David. You tried to warn me after all. See you in the house.”
She waved at Rio and headed back out of the barn, her long-legged designer jeans and her perfectly tucked-in, tight-fitting yellow T-shirt somehow just a little too perfect.
Chapter Sixteen
* * *
THE WEEKEND SHIFTED Rio’s life paradigm yet again. Only two weeks ago her future had seemed so solid. Now she’d taken a job she could never keep, to start saving to pay property taxes on a useless lot, and keep gas in her car, so she could get to the job, just to start . . . She halted the vicious circle of thoughts. Bonnie was right. She should be happy to be here.
The place was perfect, after all. She loved being so close to the horses. She loved that one stupid, mean little cat had taken a liking just to her. She liked that there was quiet at night, and she liked David. A lot.
But she missed being anonymous. In the city, people she cared about knew her, and the other four hundred thousand paid no attention to her whatsoever. She passed hundreds of them every day, served some of them lunch or dinner, shopped next to them, and honked at them on the roads. But they didn’t care if she came or went.
In Kennison Falls, all she’d have to do was sneeze and somebody would broadcast her case of the flu.
And what had begun as she and her sister bunking in a quiet little corner of a very big house had become, overnight, a season at court with Katherine and Stella. Kate was friendly, courteous, nice enough. But she had the intimidating presence of someone who owned a room simply by appearing in its doorway.
Then there was Stella. David had been right; his mother was a force of nature. Her schedule-keeping for the household was a wonder to behold. Two rooms were immediately chosen to be decorated, a list of friends she’d made over her years of coming to the States was drawn up, and talk began to surface about guest lists, while she tried to pin David down on a day for a gathering at his house.
“You can’t do anything here until after the show, Mum. I’ll be painting jumps, setting arenas, and making course maps. There’s no time for partying. I warned you on the phone.”
“Of course, love. But you needn’t spare a thought to anything I do. Plan the show. After so many years with your father, I know how that goes. It’s in two weeks if I recall. Give me the calendar, then, and I’ll work around things. You won’t even know we’re here.”
“Promise?” he’d asked.
Luckily Rio spent little time in the house with either woman over the weekend. The moment she finished helping with barn chores on Saturday morning, David invited her to ride the John Deere Gator with him and Andy around the cross-country field to inspect jumps, and from that moment on she not only saw how true it was that life before a show was crazy, she was hooked on learning all she could about putting on a three-day event.
She’d watched the Olympics and seen riders and horses fly over ridiculously large jumps, but she was utterly clueless about the details. David eagerly explained everything. For the first time she saw him in full command of his domain, pointing unquestioningly to the next project, outlining exactly what needed to be done, handling hammers, screwdrivers, and cordless drills with the same expertise he did his horses.
Bridge Creek’s cross-country course ran through twenty acres of rolling and wooded fields and was filled with unique and sometimes frighteningly massive solid obstacles. David and Andy worked like a pair of surgeons, tightening wobbly legs on oversized picnic tables, replacing slats on an inclined fence he called a tiger trap, and securing giant ropes on a log that hung over a two-foot-deep ditch.
Andy, who, just as in the barn, moved with a limp and sometimes needed to be reminded what he’d been asked to fetch, brought out the best in David’s patience and humor. Rio wondered what his story was but still didn’t feel comfortable asking. Fred followed them gallantly, never far from his owner, never averse to a random belly or ear scratching.
Four hours passed in a flash, and when David announced they were nearly done, Rio was assailed by disappointment.
“The water complex is all that’s left,” he said. “What do you think, Andy? Should we take our lives in our hands and let Rio drive this last bit?”
She’d been nagging them for the last hour to let her behind the wheel.
“I dunno. She might be a worse driver than I am.”
“Aw, c’mon,” she groused. “Just because you drive like you have a wooden leg.”
Dead silence enveloped the three of them. David and Andy exchanged pained grimaces, but just as Rio was about to panic, the pair burst into laughter.
“I thought you knew,” Andy said. “I don’t have a wooden leg, it’s titanium.”
He pulled up the hem of his jeans and exposed the shaft of a prosthetic leg rising from his work boot. Rio nearly sank to the ground in embarrassment.
“Oh God, Andy, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t know.” Tears beaded in her eyes.
“It’s okay, Rio,” he said in his deliberate speech. “Really. You didn’t say nothin’ wrong. I like it when people tease me like I’m just a normal guy.”
“You are a normal guy, Andy. Oh jeez, I . . . I’m really sorry.”
She was. She’d had no clue he was missing a limb and had never thought to ask kindly if there was anything she should know or do to help or—
“Hey, love, don’t cry.”
Strong, sun-heated arms came arou
nd her, and full-fledged tears rolled down her cheeks. David held her and chuckled, the sound reverberating beneath her ear. Andy patted her awkwardly on the shoulder.
“Don’t you dare feel sorry for this jammy old dogsbody. I pay him a bloody fortune, and even though he’s worth every cent, he does live the life o’ Riley.”
Rio pulled away and wiped her face, remnants of embarrassment warming her face faster than the sun had been doing all morning. “I have no idea what you just said.”
Andy laughed. “He’s insulting me and complimenting me all at the same time. I’m used to it.”
“Don’t you dare insult him.” Rio punched David lightly in the arm. “I just did it plenty well all by myself.”
“Neither of us insulted him. A dogsbody is an old-fashioned term for a gofer. Andy does my bidding regularly. And jammy just means lucky. He’s dead lucky to have me, I can tell you that right now.”
“I let him think that. He’d be lost without me and my wooden leg.”
The two growled and threw a couple of fake punches at each other. Rio’s heart melted a little at the obvious affection.
“Don’t you tease me,” she said. “I feel bad enough.”
“We told you not to,” Andy said. “If you want to beat yourself up you can, but don’t blame us.”
That was when she understood that although Andy spoke slowly and sometimes missed a beat, he was far from stupid.
“Fine. I no longer feel bad. Do I get to drive?”
“I’ve got both my good arms,” Andy replied. “I can hang on tight enough.”
“I’ll hunker down with the tools in the back. Should be safe enough unless a hammer gets loose and cracks the old loaf.”
“Why are you talking like such a foreigner all of a sudden?” Rio slid into the driver’s seat and turned the key. The Gator growled to life like a high-end lawn mower. “You’re usually understandable.”
“Trying to impress the pretty bird,” he said, and gave her neck a private little squeeze. “Is it working?”
Shivers chased each other down her back as David swung himself gracefully into the small bed of the utility vehicle. She swallowed. Everything he did was graceful. His legs beneath his worn jeans were powerful and athletic. His arms were buff but not bulky. He moved like an agile pack leader out here—confident, strong, not as intimidating as a wolf, but lithe and smart like a coyote.
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