But had to…
‘Are we going to make it?’
One
Two weeks earlier…
Amara leaned in closer to her tablet’s screen.
Was she seeing right?
The image of theperfecthorse.
Lot number 728.
Breed: Thoroughbred x Criollo.Check.
Size: 16hh (hands high) a tall, commanding build.Check.
Deep chest, strong hindquarters.Elegant but muscular stance, hinting at the possibility of a refined athleticism and brute power.Biiig check.
Long, arched neck, both commanding and noble.Nice.
And a beautiful steel-grey coat that was on the right end of glossy and gorgeous.Very nice indeed.
‘What are you doing out here, my fine friend?’Taking up space at the corner table in the pub’s dining room, with only an empty coffee mug for company, Amara zoomed in to examine the photo more closely.
Dinner had finished hours ago, and as a guest with a constant need of the coffee urn, they let her use this area like an office.It was this or hide in her tiny room that only held a bed and a cupboard.
She’d learned the hard way that if she sat in the front bar she’d have to suffer some swaggering stockman doing his best at chatting her up.
Not interested.
Bad enough she worked with two cowboys.Thanks to them, the ruleNo cowboys, stockmen, or rodeo riders,had made number six on herNot-to-Love List.The list that would save her from the chaos that came with falling in love and eventual heartbreak.
But here was something shecouldfall in love with.She couldn’t help but sigh at the horse on the small screen.He was perfect.
And a long way from home.
For this was sturdy stockhorse country, where horses and dogs had to earn their keep.Certainly not a place for pretty poodles and ponies.
So why would a horse like lot number 728 end up at the local Elsie Creek Livestock Auction, in outback Northern Territory?
One forearm rested on the table as she peered closer.It was in her price range.And it checked her dream list of wants.
Not that Amara believed in dreams, when she was all about being practical.
Besides, she was living in the pub and had nowhere to put the thing.
Still…
Her heart kicked a little harder, the desire making her lick her lips.This horse was a rarity.A prize.A horse of pure prestige.
‘Hey, Amara?’Samantha, the publican, poked her head around the doorway.‘We’ve called last drinks, and I think your boss needs a lift home.’
‘Not again!’Slumping back into her seat, she rubbed at an eyebrow.
‘I could give him a room, but I doubt we’ll get him up the stairs.Has he got a swag in the back of his vehicle?’
