Chapter
One
AUSTIN
Dark clouds threaten in the distance. White powder sparkles beneath Dolly and Dasher’s hooves, tails swishing restlessly.
“I know, ladies,” I croon, standing between them and taking turns scratching the noses of the sister Quarter horses. “Long, cold day. Too many loud kids. Too much chaos. Time for a rub down and warm oats.”
Dasher shifts restlessly, tipping her head up to sniff the air. Dolly nickers as if she’s got an opinion. Worked with these rescue horses long enough to know they both do. “Storm’s blowing in fast now. Be lucky if we make it back to the cabin?—”
“Hey!” The voice is gruff, with a city accent. I bristle, turning slow and easy.
The man in front of me reeks of impatience, money, and whiskey. “Hey! I’m talking to you.”
My jaw tenses, eyes flicking momentarily to the woman next to him. Long mahogany hair, heart-shaped face punctuated by a dimple in her chin. Large, lavender doe’s eyes framed in a thick fringe of lashes that just miss brushing the smattering of cinnamon-colored freckles on her pink cheeks and upturned nose.
“Do you have a hearing problem or something?” The man asks, going full belligerent. Yep, definitely whiskey. The expensive stuff.
“Don’t answer to ‘hey,’” I say, spreading my legs where I stand, jaw set.
The woman tugs on his arm. “Trevor, no, it’s okay. We don’t?—”
He jerks away from her, fury in his indigo eyes, pale face quivering with rage. “Is that how you talk to customers?”
“You’re no customer,” I drawl. “Not taking anymore rides today.”
“To hell you aren’t.”
That gets my attention. I straighten a little more, cracking my neck. Too bad the lady’s got to be here. Fear flickers across her face as she wets her lips.
“It’s okay, Trevor—” She steps forward, raising an arm.
“The fuck it’s okay,” he roars. Then, hands on his hips to me, “One more ride.”
I shake my head, sizing him up. Maybe six feet to my six foot four. Puny arms, city built. Easier to bale than a stack of hay.
“Horses are tired. I’m?—”
“What’s this about? Money?”
I shake my head, gritting my teeth.
“Too good to give another hayride?” He steps closer.
I fist my hands at my sides, frowning.
“Done for the day.”
Apparently, he is, too.
“I’m sorry,” the woman chimes in, reaching for the man’s arm again, and I swear I’ll knock his block off if he jerks away from her again. Or does anything else threatening to the lady.
“You’re going to ruin our date,” he screams, sticking a finger in my face. It takes every ounce of self-control not to break it.
“Done that yourself. Gonna make a fool of yourself now, too?” In the distance, I see Mack, one of the local sheriff’s deputies, clocking the exchange.
So does she.
