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Janice sighs. “You’re lucky you’ve got a way with them,” she says eventually. She looks at Midnight, who’s now calmly munching hay, and her gaze softens. “And I am grateful that he’s back safe.”
She gives him a pat and a half-hearted scolding then we head out of the stable together. Outside, a rhythmic hammering sound draws my attention to the far end of the paddock, where a tall figure is working on the broken fence. Even from this distance, there’s no mistaking those broad shoulders or the black hair.
“Is that . . . ?”
“Robbie MacDonald,” Janice confirms, following my gaze. “Talk about good timing. He called the other day to say if I ever needed help with odd jobs around the place, he’s available. When Midnight busted through the fence, I rang him, and he was here within the hour.”
“Interesting.” I watch Robbie drive another nail into the post. The word around Bannock is he left his role at the resort a few days ago, but no one seems to know why. It’s all very hush-hush, though that hasn’t stopped the rumour mill from churning out wild theories. Someone even suggested the police were involved. Whatever went down, as far as I’m concerned, it’s only added another layer to his bad-boy mystique. And if he’s looking for work . . .
“I should go thank him,” I announce, already moving towards the paddock. “For fixing the fence.”
“Cat,” Janice calls after me, a note of warning in her voice. “Don’t go stirring up trouble.”
I turn, walking backwards and flashing her my most innocent smile. “Me? Never.”
I approach Robbie with the same fearless confidence I used with Midnight earlier. He doesn’t look up as I near, too focused on measuring a replacement rail against the gap in the fence.
“Fancy seeing you here,” I say brightly.
His shoulders tense, the only indication he’s heard me. Then he reaches for another nail from the pouch at his belt.
“I was the one who found Midnight,” I continue, undeterred by his silence. “The black stallion? Janice told me to keep my distance, but let’s just say he’s not the first stubborn male I’ve won over.”
Robbie drives the nail in with one sharp blow that almost sinks it completely, then finishes it off with another for good measure. “Sounds . . . reckless.” His deep voice sends a shiver down my spine.
“Or brave,” I counter. “Depending on how you look at it.”
He glances up, those icy-blue eyes meeting mine for a brief moment before returning to his work. “Hmm. There’s a fine line between bravery and stupidity.”
“So I’ve been told.” I lean against the fence post next to him, close enough to catch his scent—sawdust and sweat and something distinctly masculine. “Do you like horses?” I watch as he reaches for another rail then positions the wood. His hands are large and capable, with calluses that speak of years of physical work.
“Don’t have much of an opinion one way or the other.”
“Really? No opinion on creatures that are strong, wild, and impossible to ignore?” I look him up and down. “Thought they’d be right up your alley.”
His grip on the hammer tightens. “Did you need something?”
“Just making conversation.” I shift closer to him, watching as he lines up another nail. “So, what’s the deal with you not working at the resort anymore?”
The hammer freezes mid-swing, and the temperature between us seems to drop several degrees.
“Not something I’m discussing.” His tone is low and controlled but with an edge to it.
Retreating, however, has never been my style, especially when it comes to things—or people—that set my pulse skittering.
“I’m just curious. Must be weird, leaving a place your own father manages.”
The hammer comes down with enough force to make me jump. Robbie straightens to his full height, towering over me.
“Unless there’s something I can help you with,” he says tightly, “I’d rather push on with this in silence.”
Perfect opening.
“Actually, there is something you could help me with. As I told you the other day, my flat is in need of renovation, and I hear you’re looking for work at the moment. Perfect timing, eh?”
He raises a sceptical eyebrow, his silver piercing catching the light. “Oh aye? And what would your eldest brother think about me hanging around your flat?”
The question triggers a flash of memory. Fifteen-year-old Ally stumbling through the front door of the hotel, blood streaming from his nose. Maw fussing over him with an ice pack while he cursed Robbie MacDonald. The two of them were always at each other’s throats back then.
