Riley didn't realize she'd abandoned the task of unsaddling Misty and wrapped her trembling arms around her body. She shook off theapprehension that still plagued her even though she was two hundred miles away from Collin.
"I'm fine." She forced a smile. "I just needed a break this summer."
Daniel stared at her through narrowed eyes for a long moment as though he didn't believe her.
Eager to put some distance between her and the one person who knew and understood her almost as well as Paige did, she pulled the saddle from Misty's back and retreated to the tack room.
Less than a minute later, he followed her, carrying his saddle. He'd shed his flannel shirt while they fixed the fence, and now, his biceps bulged beneath the sleeves of his t-shirt. The sight, attractive as it was, caused her heart to race with apprehension.
Daniel was so much stronger than he used to be, and he was even taller than Collin.
Riley grabbed a horse brush and darted out of the tack room.
"Why the whole summer?" Daniel said from behind her.
She jumped and spun around. He wasn't that close, but she couldn't help the spike in adrenaline that warmed her veins, making the unseasonably warm early-April day even warmer.
"What?"
"I understand needing a break, but why take the whole summer off?" He tossed his horse brush in the air then caught it again. "Couldn't you have cut back on your hours at the clinic for a while?"
She could have, but that wouldn't change the fact that Collin knew where she lived and worked.
"I... I needed a change of add—I mean a change of scenery." She switched her choice of words mid-sentence, hoping to avoid raising even more questions.
Once again, Daniel's gaze fell on her face, a small furrow creasing his brow.
He doesn't believe me.
Or maybe he did, but he knew there was more to the story.
His eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head as though trying to get a better look at her left temple.
She turned away from him. She should have covered the bruisewith makeup this morning but getting out of town had been her only goal. Needing to deflect, she went on the defensive. "Why areyouback here again this summer? I thought the architect firm agreed to let you finish your internship after you recovered from your broken leg."
His lips set in a firm line and a muscle in his jaw jumped. The concerned look he'd given her turned hard. He pivoted and walked to Rebel's side where he brushed the chestnut stallion with short, rapid strokes.
Daniel's internship with a prestigious architectural firm in Portland was interrupted two years ago when he wrecked his motorcycle and broke his femur. He'd come home to the ranch to recuperate, but a few months later, he'd returned to Portland to finish his internship.
Riley never understood why he chose to come back to the ranch again last fall. But she'd overheard her mother and aunts talking about how quiet and withdrawn Daniel was. And when she came home for Thanksgiving, she'd seen firsthand how much he'd changed.
The Daniel she saw then was not the same carefree, adventure-loving boy she grew up with. He seemed more himself now, but there was still something different about him.
Riley grimaced. She'd hit a sensitive spot. Apparently, Daniel hadn't gotten the position he'd hoped for with the firm after finishing the internship.
But why come back here? Why not apply to other firms?
They finished brushing down their horses in silence and turned them back into the corral.
After latching the gate, Riley brushed her hands on her jeans then slid her hands into her back pockets. She rocked up on her toes, trying to think of something to say to the man who used to be her best friend but now felt like a stranger.
Apparently, he couldn't think of anything to say either, because he just stared at the horses in the corral.
She pointed over her shoulder. "I guess I'd better get unpacked."
"I'll help you carry in your luggage." Daniel followed her to her Jeep.
Riley wanted to argue that she could do it herself becauseaccepting his help made her feel weak. And she'd had enough of feeling weak and helpless to last her a lifetime.
