Chapter One
Iwas knee-high in soiled horse bedding when I first saw her. She was all perfect and pristine. And I, filthy and disheveled, with straw in places that didn’t bear thinking about.
I should’ve taken that as a sign to look away and stay away.
Instead, I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she stepped from the sleek black sports car, the wheels gleaming like they’d never seen a day’s work. Pure Daddy’s money. I would’ve been pissed, resentful, if I weren’t too busy trying to figure out what the hell she was doing here. Was she lost?
The stables were my domain. None of his playthings ever came near them. Heaven forbid the smell tainted their expensive perfume or the muck ruined their precious Louboutins.
And yet … here she was.
One stiletto sank into the dirt. Then the other. Long, tanned legs catching my gaze before the rest of her followed.
Fuck.
Dad had truly outdone himself this time.
She was tall — though that could’ve been the ridiculous heels. Her short white dress clung like a second skin, showing off her slim waist, the curve of her hips, and cleavage that ought to come with a warning label. Then she tossed her deep auburn waves over one shoulder, exposing the elegant line of her throat, and something tightened in my stomach. Something hot. Something intense. And my jaw all but hit the straw.
I knew I was staring. Couldn’t seem to stop.
Didn’twantto stop.
And that was worse.
Then her gaze settled on me—
Crap.
Heat shot to my cheeks, mortification crashing in as I realized I’d been caught staring. I dropped my gaze and busied myself with the mucking out, praying she’d just get about her business and be gone.
“Abigail?”
The sound of my name in her husky English accent did nothing to ease my raging hormones, and I tried to ignore her, stabbing my fork back into the straw and tossing it to one side.
“Abi?” she called again. This time I could hear her heels clipping the cobbled paving as she headed toward me.
Letting go of a steadying breath, I rounded on her.
“Hey, Mom!” I said sarcastically, regretting it as soon as my eyes lifted to hers, my cocky stance dissipating under her proximity and leaving me feeling nothing but foolish. I was twenty-two after all, not some disgruntled teenager out to do battle with yet another stepmother.
Surprisingly, she smiled, her beautiful face breaking into a wide grin as she removed her fashionably large shades and fixed me with a pair of brilliant green eyes.
“You can call me Emma, I’m not quite Mom yet,” she said softly, toying with the sunglasses in her perfectly manicured hands.
“True.” It was all I could muster as I continued to squirm in front of her, my body alarmingly aware of her every inch. What was wrong with me? I wasn’t even into women. Or at least … I hadn’t been. And her? Of all people. My future stepmother. Christ. This was going to be one hell of a tale for the shrink. “Shit.”
“Sorry?”
I frowned; I hadn’t meant to swear aloud. As first meetings went, this was not going well. At all.“Sorry, I just remembered I was supposed to be somewhere.”
Her face fell in obvious disappointment. “Oh.”
“Was there something you wanted?” I found myself asking.
“I was hoping you could show me around the stables, your father said you would take me through the stud and find me a match?”
“Stepfather,” I corrected instinctively, surprising myself as the bitterness that normally remained trapped inside at any reference to him came tumbling out.
