Home to Blue Stallion Ranch

by Stella Bagwell

  Emily-Ann laughed. “You know what they say about promises. They’re made to be broken.”

  Chapter Six

  Sundown was still more than an hour away when Holt arrived on Blue Stallion Ranch. As he parked the truck a short distance from the house and climbed to the ground, he noticed a cloud of brown dust rising near the barn area.

  Squinting against the lingering rays of sunlight, Holt spotted Isabelle in a large round pen riding a little bay mare with a white blaze down her face. Ollie and Sol were perched on a rail of the fence, watching their new boss in action.

  As Holt approached the two men, Ollie threw up a hand in greeting. “Hey, Holt. Come have a seat and watch the show. Isabelle’s got the little mare spinning on a dime.”

  Holt leaned a shoulder against the fence and peered through the wooden rails as Isabelle continued to put the mare through a series of maneuvers.

  Sol said, “I never thought I’d see anyone ride as well as you, Holt, but Isabelle comes pretty damned close.”

  Holt glanced up at the older man. “Aww, come on, now, Sol,” he joked. “You think that just because she’s a lot prettier than me.”

  Ollie chuckled. “Well, I wouldn’t argue that point. But she sure knows how to handle horses. Surprised the heck out of me and Sol, that’s for sure.”

  Holt turned his attention back to the pen just in time to see Isabelle rein the mare to a skidding stop. He couldn’t argue that she sat the saddle in fine form. Loose and relaxed while being in total control, it was easy to see she was a very experienced rider. She was also the sexiest thing that Holt had ever laid eyes on.

  Maybe that was why he couldn’t stay away from the woman, he silently reasoned. It wasn’t like him to take time away from the ranch when foals were coming right and left. But this evening when he’d made his rounds through the barns, the mares he’d put on foal watch had all seemed settled and happy. And if by chance one did decide to suddenly go into labor, Holt knew he could depend on T.J. and Chandler to handle the situation.

  For the past few years, Holt’s family had been urging him to ease his workload and spend more time away from the horse barn. Preferably finding himself a good wife and growing a family. Hell, why would he want to fence himself in like that? Even with a woman like Isabelle.

  He was pushing the question aside when she suddenly spotted him and trotted the mare over to where he was standing near the fence.

  “Hi, Holt. I wasn’t expecting you this early,” she said with an easy smile. “I haven’t made those sandwiches I promised you yet.”

  He smiled back at her and wondered why seeing her made him feel like he was standing on a golden cloud with bright blue sky all around him.

  “I’m not worried. I doubt you’re going to let me starve.”

  Isabelle dismounted and led the mare out of a gate and around the fence to where Holt was standing.

  Before she reached him, Ollie and Sol climbed to the ground and she handed the sweaty mare over to the two men.

  “We’ll take care of her,” Ollie told Isabelle. “You go on with your visit.”

  “Thank you, guys.”

  The two men left with the horse in tow and Holt turned his attention to Isabelle. Her perfect little curves were covered with a pair of faded jeans and a yellow-and-brown-striped shirt. A dark brown cowboy hat covered her white-blond hair, while spurs jingled on the heels of her boots.

  To him, she looked just as pretty in her work clothes as she had in the clingy black dress she’d worn to dinner, and Holt decided just looking at her made him feel happier than he’d felt in years.

  “I noticed you didn’t give the men any instructions about the mare,” he said.

  She shook her head. “I don’t have to tell them anything. They know exactly what to do. But you knew that when you sent them over here.”

  So she’d figured that out. “Aren’t you glad I did?”

  She pondered his question for only a second. “I’m very glad. And if I haven’t said thank you, I’m saying it now.”

  “No thanks needed,” he replied, while telling himself there was no need for her to ever find out the whole deal about Ollie and Sol. Sure, he’d sent them over here, and that was all she needed to know.

  She swiped the back of her sleeve against her cheeks and said, “Sorry I look such a mess. We’ve been repairing a bunch of feed troughs this afternoon and then I decided to give Pin-Up Girl a little exercise.”

  “No need to apologize. You look as pretty as Pin-Up Girl,” he said.

  She laughed and he realized he liked that about her, too. That she could laugh at him and herself.

  “Thank you, Holt. Before we head to the house, would you like to walk on down to the barn and take a look at my horses?”

  “I would like that,” he told her. “And by the way, your little Pin-Up Girl looks great. Did you train her?”

  She stepped up to his side and as they began to amble in the direction of the big weathered barn, Holt had to fight the urge to curl his arm around the back of her waist.

  “Thank you. Yes, I did train her,” she answered. “She’s only three. She was born to one of my mares shortly after I moved to Albuquerque. It’s only been these past few months that I’ve had a chance to work with her on a regular basis.”

  Albuquerque. He was beginning to hate the mention of that city. Not that he had anything against it. But he did resent the reminder of her ex and the married life she’d had with the man. Which was stupid of him, Holt realized. He’d dated divorced women before and nothing about their exes had bothered him in the least. He had no right or reason to be jealous or possessive of Isabelle.

  “I’ll be honest,” he said, “When I saw you that first day you came to Three Rivers, I thought—”

  Intrigued, she prodded, “You thought what?”

  Right now he figured he looked as sheepish as the day Reeva had caught him digging into a pie she’d made especially for his sister Vivian’s birthday party. Thankfully his sister had always forgiven him anything. He wasn’t sure that Isabelle would be so forgiving, though.

  He said, “That you looked like you spent most of your time on a tropical beach. That you were probably one of those women who wanted to try a new hobby every few months. And this month just happened to be horses.”

  Her laugh was deep and genuine. “What a wonderful impression you had of me. Is that why you gave me the cold shoulder?”

  What was wrong with him? Nothing embarrassed him, or so he thought. But now that he was beginning to know Isabelle, he wanted her to think highly of him.

  “I’m sorry about that, Isabelle. I was being a real ass that morning. But you see, I have a problem with women.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard that.”

  Her deadpan response had him laughing. “I’m sure you’ve heard plenty of things. What I meant was I have problems with women showing up at the barn as though it’s a petting zoo. Most of them don’t understand that horses can be very dangerous. Especially to a greenhorn. Then there’s the loss of time and work it takes for one of the hands to escort the woman around the barn. It’s worse than annoying. It’s like I said—a problem.”

  “I see. You thought the only kind of horse I’d ever ridden was the kind where you drop a quarter in the slot.” Her smile was playful. “I forgive you. After all, you’d never met me. But that should teach you not to make assumptions just by appearances.”

  “That’s a lesson our mother tried to drive in all of us kids. I guess it didn’t stick with me.”

  She chuckled. “Well, I wouldn’t worry, Holt. You’re still very young. You have plenty of time to learn.”

  * * *

  Shadows were stretching across the ranch yard and the warmth of the springlike day had begun to cool when Isabelle and Holt finally walked to the house.

  “I do hope you’re hungry,” Isabelle
told him as they entered a door on the back porch. “I have a surprise for you.”

  He followed her into the kitchen. “Let me guess. You got more than one kind of lunch meat. Bologna, I hope. That’s my favorite.”

  “I do have bologna. But I—”

  She paused as she turned to see him sniffing the air.

  “Something is cooking and it doesn’t smell like sandwiches.”

  She walked over to a large gas range and switched off the oven. “No. I decided to take pity on you and give you something besides bread and cold cuts. But don’t get too excited until you do a taste test. This dish is one of the few things I can cook and it doesn’t always turn out right. If we dig in and it tastes awful, I’ll drag out the bologna.”

  “With an offer like that, I can’t lose.” He held up his hands. “If you’ll show me where I can wash up, I’ll help you get things ready.”

  “Follow me. The bathroom is just down the hall,” she told him.

  They left the kitchen and started down a narrow hallway. Isabelle could feel his presence following close behind her and she wondered what would happen if she suddenly stopped and turned to face him? Would he want to kiss her? Had the thought of kissing her ever crossed his mind?

  Stop it, Isabelle! You’re a fool for thinking about such things! You just got out of a loveless marriage. Why would you want to enter into a loveless affair? Just so you could feel a man’s strong arms around you? Forget it.

  Shutting her mind off to the silent warning, she hurried ahead of him and opened the bathroom door. “Here it is,” she said. “Help yourself and I’ll, uh, see you back in the kitchen.”

  “Thanks.”

  As soon as he disappeared into the bathroom, Isabelle rushed to her bedroom and threw off her hat. After dashing a hairbrush through her hair, she swiped on pink lipstick, sighed helplessly at the dusty image in the mirror, and hurried back to the kitchen.

  She’d barely had time to take the casserole out of the oven when Holt returned to the room and sidled up to her at the gas range.

  “That really smells good, Isabelle,” he said. “But you’ve made me feel awful. I honestly didn’t expect you to cook.”

  There were plenty of things about Holt that Isabelle hadn’t expected, she thought. After their dinner date a couple of nights ago, she hadn’t figured on seeing him again. At least, not this soon or in such an intimate setting. And from all she’d heard about his womanizing, she’d expected him to be making all kinds of sexual advances. So far she’d been all wrong about the man.

  She cast him a droll look. “That is what you suggested on the phone.”

  “Yes, but I was only using that as an excuse to invite myself over.”

  She couldn’t stop a playful smile from tugging at her lips. “I know that.”

  He grinned. “And you cooked for me anyway. That’s sweet, Isabelle.”

  His eyes were twinkling as a grin spread slowly across his face. The tempting sight jumped her heart into overdrive and she knew if she didn’t move away from him, she was going to say or do something stupid. Like rest her palm against his chest and tilt her lips toward his.

  Drawing in a shaky breath, she turned and moved down the cabinets to where the dishes were stored.

  “Just don’t let it go to your head,” she said. “And if you want to make yourself useful, you might fill some glasses with ice while I set the table.”

  “Ice? No wine?”

  “Sorry. I’m out of wine. I have tea, soda, or water.”

  “I should’ve brought a bottle, but I thought we were having sandwiches. Water is plenty fine for me, though.” He found the glasses and was filling them with crushed ice when he suddenly snapped his fingers. “Oh, I nearly forgot! I have something for us in the truck. I’ll be right back.”

  He hurried out the back door of the kitchen and while he was gone, Isabelle set the table in the dining room, then added the food and drinks. She was lighting a tall yellow candle when he walked in carrying a round plastic container.

  “This is nice, Isabelle.” Standing next to her, he slowly surveyed the long room. “I love all the arched windows. You can see all the way to the barn from here.”

  “Yes and the mountains beyond. This is one of my favorite rooms in the house.” She gestured behind them to the table and matching china hutch. “One of these days, I’m going to get more furniture. Like a longer dining table and a buffet to go with it. But since it’s just me and I don’t do any entertaining, there isn’t much need for me to rush into furniture shopping. Actually, if you weren’t here tonight, I’d be eating in the kitchen.”

  “Nothing wrong with that. I do it quite often because I’m usually late coming in from the barn. And sometimes I just want to have Reeva for company.”

  She pointed to the plastic container he was holding. “Is that something to eat?”

  He grinned. “Pie. Blueberry with double crust. I asked Reeva to make it especially for us. I hope you like blueberries.”

  “I love them and what a treat to have a homemade pie.” Isabelle took the container from him and set it on the table alongside the casserole, then motioned for him to take a seat. “Everything is ready. Let’s eat.”

  “Not until the hostess is seated.” He pulled out her chair and made a sweeping gesture with his arm. “For you, my lady.”

  She laughed softly. “What am I? Cinderella in dusty blue jeans?”

  “Of course you are. And I’m the prince in cowboy boots. But I wasn’t thinking. I should’ve brought you a glass slipper instead of a blueberry pie.”

  He pushed her and the chair forward and once she was comfortably positioned, she expected him to move on around to the other side of the table. Instead, he lingered there with his hands on the back of the chair and Isabelle held her breath, waiting and wondering if his hands were going to slide onto her shoulders.

  But they didn’t and when he finally stepped away, she expelled a breath of relief. Or was that disappointment she was feeling? Oh, Lord, the man shook her like nothing ever had. And he’d not so much as kissed her or even touched her in a romantic way. She must be losing her grip, she thought.

  “No need to worry,” she said. “I threw the other glass slipper away a long time ago.”

  He took the seat across from her, then leaned his forearms against the edge of the table and looked at her. “I think you meant that as a joke, but you didn’t exactly sound like you were teasing.”

  “If I sounded cynical, I didn’t mean to,” she said. “It’s just that sometimes I get to thinking about—” She paused and shook her head. “You don’t want to hear this kind of stuff. Let’s eat. You go first.”

  She picked up a large serving spoon and handed it to him.

  He filled his plate with a large portion of the Mexican-type casserole, then reached for a basket of tortilla chips. “I do want to hear. What is it that puts you in a pessimistic mood?”

  She shrugged, while wishing she’d never said anything. “Okay, I get to thinking about all the time I wasted trying to make things be the way I wanted them to be.”

  He frowned. “You’re very young, Isabelle. You have plenty of time to make your life’s dreams come true.”

  Dreams. Yes, she’d always had those. But only one of them was coming true. Her dream of Blue Stallion Ranch. And that’s the one she needed to focus on. Not on a man to hold her tight or put a ring on her finger or give her children.

  She gave him the cheeriest smile she could muster and began to fill her plate. “You’re right, Holt. I have my whole life ahead of me. I might just go buy myself a new pair of glass slippers and kick up my heels.”

  “Now that’s more like it.”

  He reached across the table for her hand and as his fingers wrapped warmly around hers, she arched a questioning brow at him.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked impishl
y. “You think I’m going to run away from the table and leave you with all the mess?”

  His thumb gently rubbed the back of her hand. The soft touch caused a layer of goose bumps to cover her arms. Thankfully, with her arms hidden by long sleeves, he couldn’t see just how much he was affecting her.

  “No. I was just thinking how pretty you look and how much I’m enjoying being here with you like this.”

  Her cheeks grew warm and she figured they had turned a telltale pink. “You’re flirting now,” she murmured accusingly.

  “A little,” he admitted. “But I’m also telling the truth. You can’t know what it’s like being in a big family with three-fourths of us living under the same roof. It can get loud. And it takes work to find any sort of privacy.”

  Before she melted right there in her chair, she eased her hand from his and picked up her fork. “But it must be nice having brothers and sisters. I’ve always thought having siblings would be wonderful.”

  “It is. And I’m very close to all of them. It’s just that sometimes I want to be alone and keep my thoughts to myself.”

  She nodded, then smiled. “Or perhaps just talk to the cook.”

  “Yes, thank God for Reeva. I can say what I really think to her. She gets me. How she does, I don’t know. The woman is seventy-one. Nearly forty years older than me.”

  He took a bite of the food and Isabelle could tell from the look on his face that he liked it. The fact sent a ridiculous spurt of joy through her.

  “Age isn’t what makes two people click. It’s being on the same plane and having the right chemistry mix and a lot of other things.”

  He looked up from his plate and Isabelle felt a jolt as his gaze met hers.

  “You sound like my sister Viv. She’s always telling me that one of these days I’ll find a woman who I’ll click with. One I’ll want to be with the rest of my life.”

  “And what do you say to her?”

  “I mostly laugh.”

  “Why? Because you want to change women like you change shirts?”