by Karen Anders
That all seemed to be resolved now with Zane blissfully happy with his administrative assistant, Mirabella, now his wife. Alanna liked and admired the willowy redhead, and was pleased to welcome her into the family.
But with Fowler’s interference in her domain, she now had to work with this tantalizing man. She didn’t go in for that horse-whispering mumbo jumbo and was skeptical of the practice that promised near-miraculous results that were misleading at best and damaging at worst.
Now he’d hired this phony. Jake the Fake, as far as she was concerned.
“Alanna Colton,” she said as he extended his hand toward her. “Welcome to Colton Valley Ranch.” She pulled off her glove and placed her hand in his. She was bombarded by disturbing new impressions and the tantalizing warmth of his callused palm sliding over hers. Handsome? No, not exactly, but there was a compelling attractiveness about him, an attractiveness that was unfeigned and indestructible. Dark eyebrows arched over blue eyes, flecked with gold and amber, and the thick long lashes accentuated their hypnotic intensity, the stubble of beard along his jaw a dark, sexy shadow.
There was something very intriguing about his face, something that touched her in the most profound way. It revealed a depth of character, an inner strength, but it also revealed an imperviousness that had been carved by disillusionment. It was the face of a man who had forged on alone, a man whose sensuous mouth had been hardened by grim determination. And, against her will, Alanna felt an immediate affinity for him that she had never felt for another human being. Her keen awareness of him as a man had an immobilizing effect on her, and she was conscious of nothing except the warmth of his touch and his unwavering gaze.
He was a man of contradictions, and he confused her.
“Thank you kindly,” he responded.
Alanna didn’t want to let go of his hand, and she reluctantly withdrew it from his grasp. Impatiently, she thought this was damned inconvenient. No way did she need another alpha male in her life who told her what to do. Not to mention, she was wary of anyone who professed to “have a way with horses.” She’d already had her brother undermine her, and before his disappearance her father just couldn’t let go of control of the stables even though he often told her she was in charge. She felt like an island surrounded by sharks and if she ever tried to leave, she would drown. She was at the very worst undermined and at the very best ineffectual. Along with running every aspect of a busy and thriving stable, training cutters for market, and now dealing with a dangerous and untrainable stallion, Alanna was working with her new outreach project. Colton Valley Ranch Gives Back was a program for inner-city kids that taught them how to handle horses and provided a safe environment to learn about responsibility, leadership and community. “Tamara, continue working Samson.”
Swinging her leg over the saddle and dropping to the ground, Alanna turned. “Yes, ma’am,” Tamara said, taking the reins from Alanna’s outstretched hand.
“Let me show you your lodgings and where you can stable your horse,” Alanna said. The sooner she put distance between them the better. She still had a full day. But Buck wasn’t due back for at least another thirty minutes, and she didn’t want to delegate this task to anyone else. Jake was an employee and new here. She did want to make him feel comfortable, even with his questionable profession.
“Valentine,” he said.
She approached the roan. Jake watched her with an unsettling steadiness that made her knees a little weak. Reaching out, she rubbed Valentine’s forelock, and he pushed his nose into her hand with an exhale of air. Then nudged her as if he wanted to make friends. Charmed by the gelding’s soft blue eyes and friendly temperament, she couldn’t help herself, she slid her hand down the animal’s smooth neck. “Really, that’s his name?” She smiled, moving around Valentine, her hand running over him. Valentine stood still and calm. “And, I can see why. This marking on him is heart-shaped.”
“It’s a birthmark, but even though he can’t perform, he still loves the ladies.”
“He’s gorgeous, and you’ve taken good care of him.”
“Yes, ma’am, he’s a fine partner.”
The horse nuzzled her again, and she ran her hand over his velvety nose. “You’re a lover not a fighter, huh?” Valentine nickered softly and flicked his ears forward.
“This way, Mr. McCord.” He stepped to the side, making way for her to pass him, and with a gentle guide to the small of her back, his hand big and warm, he dropped back to allow her to pass, but the brief touch had been electric.
She headed for the back of the arena and the big double doors. They exited through into a wide corridor with a row of box stalls to each side, closing the doors behind them. Walking side by side, she led him around the side of the arena, and Valentine pranced, his head up again, this time a loud whinny splitting the quiet air. Several mares in the paddock they were passing trotted over to the fence. She didn’t blame them. He was quite the handsome specimen.
She laughed at his antics and was impressed with the way Jake settled him down with an ease she’d never seen on any horse person she’d worked with, not even some very competent old-timers. It was a sense of balanced energy that radiated out of him as natural and as basic as Jake himself.
“I guess you weren’t exaggerating. He is quite the ladies’ man.”
He scrutinized her intently as if he had already made up his mind about her, but had to switch gears. Not a surprise. A lot of people pigeonholed the Coltons into fancy folk slots, but getting her hands dirty, working the horses, running the stables wasn’t just what she did for the ranch, it was her life. Her father had steered her toward jumping, but it was barrel racing she’d loved and competing was her guilty pleasure. His contemplative tone tinged with an undercurrent of amusement, he said softly, “I don’t exaggerate, ma’am.”
“Unless there’s a campfire and some tall tales to be told,” she quipped before she could stop her wayward mouth.
He slid a sidelong glance her way, some of that cynicism fading with the twinkle in his gorgeous blue eyes. “I don’t tell tall tales,” he said. “You know, unless there’re some greenhorns to sucker.”
She laughed as they came out to the main thoroughfare between the barns and headed toward the farthest, newest of the buildings.
She turned left and led him to the wide-open doors of the barn closest to the apartments. Walking into the interior, Valentine’s hooves muffled against the black, rubber floor mat over a shiny brick floor. Curious by nature, many of the horses in the barn stuck their heads out into the main hall and with an eerie stillness they watched Jake with interest as if he exuded something irresistible...a silent communication. She frowned. That was interesting. She’d never seen that before. What was it about this man that made not only the horses sit up and take notice, but seemed to excite the very air around him?
She noticed a stable hand had Firecracker crosstied at one of their two wash racks. The prized pure white horse was an excellent broodmare for their cutters, but Alanna suspected she would be better at throwing foals suited to barrel racing.
Firecracker started to get antsy and Jake stopped short. His gaze went to the horse. As the stable hand untied her, she broke away.
Jake dropped the lead line to Valentine and ran toward the horse. Firecracker came to a stop and danced until Jake got to her. He whispered something, took ahold of the halter and immediately turned the horse in a tight circle, touching the quivering horse’s neck, quieting her immediately. The stable hand approached and Jake said, “Probably got a whiff of a stallion and it excited her. Just be aware if she starts to get anxious again, untie and lead her around a few times until she quiets down. I know it’s an extra step, but will ensure she doesn’t bolt.”
The stable hand nodded and thanked Jake.
He came back to the docile and quiet roan and picked up his lead line. “Lead on,” Jake said. Alanna had to absorb this new information about Jake. It was obvious he knew what he was doing, but horse whispering was ju
st a fancy name for natural horsemanship. It was true Firecracker was aptly named, but Alanna had never seen her respond so easily to someone.
She stopped at the end of the barn and indicated a corner stall. “You can use this box stall which is cleaned daily. Our horses are fed four times a day with fresh water daily. If your horse requires special needs you can speak with the stable manager for this barn. His name is Billy Jones.”
“Valentine is fit as a fiddle. No extras required.”
She nodded. “All right. He can answer any questions or feel free to ask me.”
He pulled open the sliding stall door with the black steel half grill across the length of the gleaming cedar planks. Guiding Valentine in, he unclipped the lead rope and slid the door closed. Valentine tossed his head and blew and snorted as he explored the interior of his temporary new home.
Alanna noticed how big, strong and sure Jake’s hands were as he handled the large roan with ease. Obviously a man who had been around horses his whole life. She pushed back her curiosity. She wasn’t going to ask. Getting personal with him wasn’t on the agenda. Although, her questions burned in the back of her skull.
“The yoke...” He trailed off, looking at how to open it so Valentine could poke his head out. “He’s a curious cuss and will want to stick his head out to survey the area. He doesn’t bite at all.”
She stepped up to the grill and turned to him. “The latch is right here,” she pointed out. Jake got close, so close she got a whiff of him flavored with a woodsy, citrus scent that made her want to turn her head into his chest and breathe deep.
“Where?”
She reached out and captured his wrist, guiding his hand to the latch. His skin was smooth and warm. The double combination of smell and touch sent her heart into overdrive, pounding with a hard beat. “Right here.”
“Of all the newfangled...” He fumbled around, then made a gotcha sound. “There we go,” he said as he slid the cover to the side and latched it.
He was still standing too close and her gaze connected with his. Alanna experienced that same flutter as she fell victim to the laughter in his eyes. She had a sudden and nearly overpowering urge to touch him again, but she drew a slow, measured breath and deliberately hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her chaps.
He was watching her with that unsettling steadiness again. She made herself back away just to be out of his disturbing presence.
Her voice was only slightly uneven when she said, “I assume you brought your own tack.”
He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yes, it’s in my truck parked up at the arena. I’ll unload it later.”
Okay, more devastating when he smiled. It disarmed her even more. “Let me show you the tack room.”
“You have a chandelier in a barn,” he drawled, stopping and looking up.
She smiled. “Yes, there’s no reason we can’t be elegant and refined, even in a barn.”
He shook his head. “Yes, ma’am.”
It was clear he didn’t agree. “We have a heated tack room, two wash stations that include hot water, a heated viewing area for our customers, and an upper level split loft area for hay.”
Five minutes later she took him over to the apartments, leading him through the great room with its comfy furniture and TV, past the tricked-out gourmet kitchen with two old-fashioned big farmer’s tables where a dark-haired woman who looked about the same age as Alanna stood at the stove, her back to them.
“Hi, Ellen,” Alanna said.
The woman turned and smiled, her hazel eyes warm and infectious. “Hello, Miss Colton.”
“This is Jake McCord. He’s going to be working here taming Zorro. This is Ellen Martin. She’s your cook.”
Her brows rose, and her eyes went skeptical. “That’s a tall task. Good luck with that. Breakfast is at 8:00, lunch at noon and dinner at 5:00. Coffee is always hot and pie plentiful. Snacks on demand.” She smiled, and Alanna was aware of just how pretty the single mother was. She might have sixteen-year-old Daisy, but she was only thirty-three. She didn’t want to think about Ellen and Jake in any romantic situation, not that it would happen. Why did that bug her?
Jake tugged his hat again. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
Alanna stopped at a small office and opened a metal lockbox hanging on the wall. Searching through, she extracted a key. Climbing the stairs up to the third floor of the remodeled barn, she took him through the door to the largest of the apartments.
“Home away from home,” she said, opening the drapes to reveal a balcony patio. “Fowler requested you be given these accommodations. Parking is in an underground area below the apartments.”
“This is very generous of you, ma’am. Thank you.”
Alanna walked back toward the door and Jake stood just inside the foyer. She had to slide past him. “Fowler thinks you should be as close to and have as much access to Zorro as possible. You will need a comfortable place to come back to.” Her voice lowered. “Zorro is...dangerous. He’s been mishandled in the past and, coupled with a fighting spirit, he is unpredictable. I would ask you, for your safety, to be very careful.”
Jake studied her for a second, then leaned his shoulder against the wall. A heavy measuring look settled on his face, and she got the impression once again that he carried a considerable burden. “Horses don’t live in the past or the future. They live in the moment. People are the ones with an agenda, timetables, time limits, goals. Makes for a major disconnect with their horses. Dwelling on the past brings baggage, and focusing on the future can bring anxiety.” The way he looked was incongruent with his sage response. Awareness churned through her, making her heart jump and she was struck by a paralyzing fascination to know what it was she saw in his eyes. “I work with horses in the present. No need to worry. Zorro won’t hurt me.”
He could hurt you. She thought without reason or comprehension, and Alanna was very good at protecting herself. She had to in a family with more politics than the US government and just as much backstabbing as ancient Rome. With a father who had been rumored to be a former bank robber, a serial killer uncle, Fowler and Marceline scheming to create trouble between everyone, her stepmother’s histrionics, growing up on guard with an inner layer of steel was warranted. She wasn’t going to find out about Jake. Vulnerability was too risky. She had her own burdens to bear, stress and anxiety to handle. Best to steer clear of anything too complicated when her attention needed to be elsewhere. Even with those thoughts, she felt something had tilted beneath her as if everything had just been thrown out of sync. The bleak look in Jake’s eyes did awful things to her heart, and she shivered, hurting for him. And not even knowing or understanding why.
Chapter 2
She cleared her throat and stepped back. “Why don’t you get settled?” She looked at her watch. “Buck should be back in about fifteen minutes and will be at the arena. Meet us back there when you’re ready.”
Ha. Sage advice from him about horses. They did live in the present. Too bad he couldn’t apply it to his own life. Too much of his “present” was mired in stuff that had happened in the past. The loss of his younger brother, Matt, to gangs and drugs, and the loss of the rookie that still made the guilt mount, caused sleepless nights, the heat that had fueled his meltdown and burnout. But he wasn’t here to dwell on baggage. Alanna was waiting for an answer and he nodded. “I’ll be there as soon as I unload.”
She handed him the key. “You’re expected to handle the daily upkeep, but there will be a maid that comes through every week.”
“Will do.” She left and closed the door behind her. This two-bedroom apartment was smaller than his modest house, but definitely more expensively furnished. The floor was hardwood and the colors russet, gold with burned orange accents. The small kitchen was compact and complete with a microwave. The living room looked comfortable and inviting with the leather couch and stylish chair and ottoman along with a rugged coffee table, small stand and wide-screen TV.
It
didn’t take him long to walk back to his truck and drive the rig over to the stables and unload his hand-tooled saddle, the saddle pad and bridle. He rolled his eyes at the chandelier. He found a peg in the well-organized and very clean tack room of the barn identified with a shiny bronzed plaque that read Cisco. Looked like all the barns on the property were named after cities in Texas. That was very... Texan.
He parked his truck, then unhitched and stored his trailer in an area designated for them. Back up in the apartment he brought in his suitcases and unpacked.
Taking a quick shower to wash the grime of the road off, he put on a clean set of clothes and headed back over to the arena.
He realized with wariness he was excited to see Alanna again, and it had nothing to do with the case and everything to do with the way she looked in those shotgun chaps.
It wasn’t lost on him, evidenced by Ellen the cook’s comments and Alanna warning him that Zorro was dangerous, that neither woman believed he would succeed in rehabilitating the stallion.
“I love Fowler, but he’s wrong about that horse. I don’t believe he can be tamed, and I don’t want any breeding program I’m endorsing to contain genes from a horse with his disposition.” Jake overheard Alanna speaking to a tall man with broad shoulders, salt-and-pepper hair and eyebrows, impressive handlebar mustache and stubble on his cheeks. The man straightened when he saw Jake walk up, clearing his throat, but Alanna had already stuck her proverbial foot into her beautiful mouth. “Whispering won’t do any good. I think Jake is just a plain old cowboy who knows how to manipulate a résumé and reputation. I don’t believe he’s any more a horse whisperer than I am a ballet dancer.”