The Gift Horse

by Jami Davenport

  Carson looked to his father for confirmation. “You can’t be serious, Dad.”

  “We’re building it for your sister.” His father sidestepped the real question with the expertise of a politician.

  “Yes, I know that was the plan.”

  “Hans is the logical choice. For once I’m the one thinking with a clear head. Unemotionally.” Bridget set her jaw and cast a withering glance in his direction.

  “I am not emotional about Sam. She deserves a chance. She’s building up her clientele. She’s young and ambitious. Hans is yesterday’s news. Sam will be tomorrow’s.” His father, ever the poker face, leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest. Not a good reaction. His sister snorted. Carson tripped over his tongue to do damage control. “Besides, I promised her we’d give her a fair chance.”

  Bridget looked at their father. “See what I mean.”

  Joe nodded. “Your mother agrees that Hans would be an excellent choice to head Cedrona’s lesson and training program.”

  “What have I been telling you?” Bridget smirked and slanted him a superior sideways glance.

  “Carson, on paper Hans is the best choice.”

  “I disagree.” Carson dug himself in deeper and wondered what the hell he was doing. Even he knew Hans was the better choice from a logical business standpoint. Yet his gut, which his father had criticized him for not listening to, was telling him that Sam would be the best long-term choice. But, could his gut be trusted where she was concerned?

  “On what grounds?” His father’s intent gaze dissected Carson piece by piece.

  Carson searched for words to explain the reservations he felt. “Hans’ ethics are questionable.”

  “In what way? I’ve never heard this before.”

  Bridget threw her hands up in the air, exasperated. “Dad, he doesn’t have anything. He’s grasping at straws.”

  “He has no qualms about stealing students from other instructors.”

  “If they were happy, they wouldn’t look elsewhere.” Bridget dug in her purse for a compact and reapplied her lipstick with vicious, angry strokes. She hated it when she didn’t get her way.

  “The man is rude and a prima donna. His customer service skills are poorly lacking.”

  “That doesn’t make him unethical,” Joe pointed out.

  “It’s a horse barn. He doesn’t need customer service skills. People come to him because he’s one of the best. They tolerate his difficult temperament.”

  “Bullshit. That’s a poor excuse to be an ass. Sam deserves a chance. She’s been hanging with us while the place is in shambles and under construction. She deserves some consideration for her loyalty.”

  “Hans instructs her, Carson. Not the other way around. It’s obvious he’s the best choice. Get your head out of her pants.”

  Carson opened his mouth to fire a retort, but his father held up a hand to silence them both. “That’s it. I’m tired of listening to the two of you bicker about this. Here’s what we’re going to do. I’ll decide.”

  Bridget shot Carson an ‘I told you so’ look. “Good, because it’s no contest. Hans is the one.”

  “Now wait a minute.” Carson glared at her.

  “Stop it, both of you! I’m talking about a creative solution to this problem.”

  Carson heard what he didn’t say. The dreaded “C” word reared its ugly head to haunt him once again. It was the thing that he wasn’t.

  “Like what?” Bridget’s smug smile turned upside down.

  “I propose a little contest with me as the judge. The winner takes over Cedrona. The loser can stay as assistant trainer or go with our blessing and a good recommendation.”

  “What kind of contest?”

  “Hmmm. That’s a good question. Obviously, it would make sense if it was based on dressage show scores.”

  “Hans doesn’t show anymore, he just trains.”

  “You’re one of his better students.”

  Carson jumped on that one. “Let’s pit you against Sam.”

  “Now, how fair is that? I’m just a lowly amateur. She’s a professional.” Bridget’s whining grated on his nerves like a bow on an out-of-tune violin.

  “Yeah, but you have incredible, well-trained horses imported from the finest European stock.” Carson sat back and smiled. This was sounding better all the time. Gabbie and Sam wouldn’t let him down.

  “I still have to ride them.” Bridget pouted.

  Their father interrupted. “My game, my money, my horse barn, my rules.”

  “We’ll use the regional championships and count each trainer’s top three riders’ scores. Since Hans has the better students with better horses, Sam can include her own scores. The trainer with best overall average score will be offered the job.”

  “I don’t know.” Bridget seemed wary.

  “What? You doubt Herr Doctor can pull it off?” Carson lounged back in his plastic chair and suppressed a smug grin.

  “It’s not that, it’s just that Sam shouldn’t count.”

  “Sam counts. That’s final.” Their father looked from one to the other, daring them to challenge his decision. “Bridget, you have two or three horses that could qualify for championships, correct?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “Your scores for each horse can count.”

  “That’s not right.” Carson sat up straighter.

  “My rules, remember? I’ll even sweeten the pot.” Joe’s eyes glinted. No one loved a good competition more than dear old dad. “I’ll throw in a $50,000 bonus for the winner.”

  * * * *

  Gabbie watched the dark figure make his way down the barn aisle. She snorted. Humans usually turned on lights at night, but not this one. He must see as well in the dark as a horse did.

  She sniffed the air. He smelled familiar, yet odd—the kind of smell that emanates from a human when they’re nervous or frightened.

  She sighed a big horse sigh, wishing it were the man with eyes the color of her water bucket. She loved the way he smelled. The human disappeared into the tack room, so she went back to munching her hay and flirting with the gelding across the aisle.

  Chapter 17—Leave Your Heart on the Bench

  Sam chewed on a fingernail as Dr. Matt examined the horse in the crossties. He’d already taken several x-rays.

  “I’m sorry to call you out here so late at night, but I didn’t think this could wait considering the pompous jerk that owns this horse.”

  “Don’t mince words, Sam, how do you really feel about Schrader?”

  Sam laughed, easing some of the tension from her body. In all the years she’d known Dr. Matt, he’d always been fair and straightforward with her. They’d been together through thick and thin. She considered him one of her true friends. Not to mention, he was a damn good vet, one of the best in the area.

  “You don’t want to know what I really think about that man.”

  “I understand. You don’t have to apologize to me.”

  “I’m still sorry you had to come out tonight.”

  “If I’d wanted a 9-to-5 job, I would have been a state worker.”

  “Gotta pay for that new vet clinic, right?” Sam attempted a teasing tone. It didn’t work, considering the seriousness of the horse’s injuries. “What happened to the other vet you hired to help you out?”

  “She left after only three months. I’m looking for someone new.”

  “Sorry about that.” Sam gestured toward the gelding. “What’s the verdict?”

  Matt shook his head, looking grim. “He’s pulled another suspensory tendon.”

  “Not again. It can’t be.” Sam’s stomach sunk to her toes. She was glad she hadn’t eaten for hours. “What’s the prognosis?”

  “They could give him a year or so of stall rest, but it’s not looking good since this is his third time, and it’s a hind leg. Dressage horses depend on their hind ends being strong.”

  “I doubt that the Schraders will be interested in rehabilita
ting the horse. They’re going to blame me, and you know it.”

  “You didn’t have anything to do with this.”

  “I was the last one to ride the horse.”

  “It could have happened in the pasture. The horse was sound when you last rode it. Correct?”

  Sam nodded. “I’m guessing they’ll want to cut their losses and get rid of the animal.”

  “Well, find out. Burke can find him a good home.”

  “How am I going to tell them that their six-figure horse is just a pasture ornament?”

  “That’s horses. You never know.”

  “Like they’re going to listen to that.”

  “Sam, as their vet, I’ll call them. You don’t need to worry about it. I’ll explain the situation, what their options are, and what rehab will cost if they choose that route.”

  “Matt, I owe you one.”

  “You do at that.” He smiled at her, his dark eyes twinkling. Sam felt a twinge of guilt and tried to contain it. He didn’t blame her, and of all people, he had the most right. She’d prove her innocence for him as well as herself. They both deserved to know the truth.

  “Are you okay?” He stared at her in that strange way he had.

  “I’m fine. I’m just worried about the horse.” It was a partial lie, but he didn’t need to know that. “He’s such a sweet animal. Where am I going to find an upper-level horse suitable for a young rider just before the show season begins? Especially that young rider.”

  “Burke might know of something. He always has a few irons in the fire.”

  “A few?”

  Matt chuckled.

  “It sure seems like there’ve been a rash of injuries lately. I just can’t believe my luck.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, it isn’t just your students’ horses; Hans has had his fair share.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel better. I’m concerned about the horses.”

  Dr. Matt shrugged and loaded up his equipment and, after leaving instructions for the horse’s care, disappeared down the dusty driveway.

  She jumped when someone tapped her on the back and whirled around. Juan stood behind her holding a hardcover book.

  “Juan, is something wrong?”

  “Too many sick and lame horses. Is suspicious.”

  “It’s not to anyone’s advantage to have horses with problems. No one would purposely cause them.”

  Juan pointed to the book in his hand. “Not what book says.”

  Sam read the book title, Suspect and Detect. “Where did you get that?”

  “Is required reading for online private detective course.”

  “I see. What does the book say?”

  “Someone always stands to gain from another’s problems. Is life.”

  “Not in this case.”

  Juan’s eyes darted around the barn. “Must go.” He hunkered down, looked left then right, then dashed into the darkness.

  Sam watched him go. Sighing, she started to walk up the stairs to her lonely apartment when she noticed a light under Carson’s office door across the hall. Against her better judgment, she rapped on the door and entered, not waiting for an invitation.

  Carson looked up. A day’s growth of dark stubble peppered his cheeks and chin. His shirt was rumpled. His dark hair stood on end where he’d most likely run his hands through it. He looked like a real guy, not a Calvin Klein model in a perfume ad—a real guy that she could get very attached to.

  Carson the Tight Ass and her together was a stretch. Carson the scruffy guy and her together was a baby step to paradise.

  “You sure spend a lot of time in here.” Her voice cracked, worse than an out-of-tune karaoke singer.

  “Is there something wrong with your throat?” Carson snapped the lid on the laptop shut and leaned back in his chair.

  “Uh, no. I...nothing. So why are you working so late on a Saturday night. No hot date?” Something painful flickered across his face; then the shutters dropped and shut her out.

  “I haven’t had a hot date in years—at least it seems like years. As far as working, I don’t have a choice. I have to turn this place around.”

  “What are you working on?”

  “I’m trying to figure out what to cut to get this budget under control. Of course, Bridget says it’s all crucial.” Carson rubbed his eyes and groaned.

  “Crucial for what? Bankruptcy?” Sam moved behind him to look over his shoulder at the plans spread on his desk.

  “Anything this big,” she noted, pointing at the plans, “is never going to turn a profit. This area can’t handle an equestrian center of this size. It’s overdone. Too ambitious.”

  Carson heaved a deep sigh. “Bridget and my mother designed it. What would you expect?”

  “Common sense.”

  “From them?”

  “Point taken.”

  “The original design was done when Reynolds Corporation had money to burn and could absorb a large loss like this as a write-off. That’s not the case now, but we have horse show contracts for next year that we need to fulfill.”

  Sam nodded as she stared at the plans. The place looked like a frigging theme park for horses.

  “So what would you do to change it?” Carson leaned forward in his chair. He glanced up. His brilliant blue eyes drilled into hers with an interest that didn’t seem entirely businesslike. A small seed of hope took root in her heart, while something more carnal took seed between her legs. Sam swallowed and roped in her lust, because that’s all it could possibly be, a classic case of opposites attract.

  With a not too steady hand, she pointed at the plans. “I’d cut the size of the large indoor arena by a third. You can still fit a full-size dressage arena in there. I’d get rid of three of the five outdoor arenas. If there’s enough demand for the extra arenas, you can add them later. I wouldn’t bother making them all-weather. That’s a huge expense around here. No one wants to ride in the rain in the winter anyway even if the footing allows it. Yet, they have to drain well enough to withstand the summer rain. And—” She jabbed a finger at a spot on the plans. “The horses don’t need a swimming pool.”

  “There’s a swimming pool for horses in these plans? That’s what that is? I couldn’t read the architect’s writing.” Carson’s brow furrowed in concentration as he took a closer look. “Shit. I don’t believe it. What do horses need a pool for?”

  “For therapy. To exercise horses that can’t be ridden or put weight on a leg. It’s a luxury you can do without.”

  “Undoubtedly.” Carson rubbed his chin. “What else?”

  Sam reached around him and changed to the drawings of the interior. “You don’t need custom stalls with fancy wood, mahogany or teak or whatever it is. The horses don’t care, and the people won’t either if the care is good, the place is clean and safe, and they’re happy with the trainers.”

  His breath feathered her cheek, and those feathers of pleasure wafted downward and tickled her every nerve ending, leaving her super-charged and ready for action. Her fingers itched to touch that uncharacteristic stubble on his chin. Her lips longed to capture his firm, uncompromising lips and make them soften and meld with hers.

  “Those are good ideas.” Carson stared at her. The man seemed to be in a state of shock. She didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.

  “It’s hard to believe that the Chaos Queen could sort through all the rubble in her brain and actually present some intelligent business ideas.” Sam let a little sarcasm seep into her voice, hoping it’d cool down the heat in the room. It didn’t.

  “That’s what has me speechless.” His tone might be bantering but his expression was deadly serious.

  “I love it when you show such confidence in my abilities.”

  “Not as much as I love it when you shock the hell out of me. I’d like to talk to you more in depth about this, but it’s late and I need to...” His voice drifted off, as if he forgot what he was saying. Carson glanced down at her hand resting on the
plans in front of him. He sucked in a breath.

  It was happening again, this thing they had going. A delicate silk thread stretched between them, forging a fragile connection. She shivered, but she wasn’t cold. In fact, it was just the opposite; she was hot, very hot.

  Carson watched her. Those slate blue eyes saw all and grew as warm as a Caribbean pool. He covered her hand with his, touched her knuckles, and stroked the inside of her thumb with his index finger. A little thrill ran through Sam, the same feeling she used to get in her young and stupid days when jumping five-foot jumps at breakneck speed.

  The pretty boy’s hand tightened around hers. Problem was, he wasn’t looking all that pretty right now. Instead, he was looking damn sexy and way too appealing. Swallowing, she rallied her will power and sprinkled it with a bit of attitude, a surefire prescription to piss him off and break this spell between them.

  “Is Rule Number Three to hustle the hired help? Is that how you rich boys do it?” She yanked her hand away from his and tucked it to her side.

  He didn’t give her the satisfaction of taking the bait. Instead, he ran one hand through his hair then rubbed his eyes. “Sorry. Did you come in here to talk or did you need something?”

  “What?” She blinked a few times. That was it? No argument that she’d physically removed her hand? And as a result, there would be no promise of a hot night under the sheets. He should be arguing, not giving up so easily. Unless—it just didn’t matter to him. She felt like a lovesick, naïve fool.

  “Do you need something?”

  Now that was a loaded question. She shook off the stupor she’d fallen into and tried to remember why she’d entered his office in the first place. “I don’t know. I’m not sure. Something doesn’t seem right.”

  “Oh, God, have you been hanging around Juan?” He relaxed a little and leaned back in his chair.

  “Carson, I’m serious. Dead serious.”

  Carson gestured toward a folding chair in the corner, all business. “Have a seat.”

  “I have another student’s horse that’s injured. In fact, he’s most likely unusable. At the least, he’ll be off for a year or more.”