Eden tapped her pencil on the pile of papers in front of her. She and her mother had been close, sharing secrets and dreams. But Eden hadn’t known any of this. Her mother had come here to clear her head? When? Had her parents fought over the refuge? Her death had robbed them all of closure and healing. Where there had been happiness and merriment, now there was only anger and resentment. Her baby girls would never know the beauty of their grandmother’s smile or her infectious laugh. It had been three years since her passing but sometimes Eden missed her so much, the pain was inescapable.
“Sorry. Too many television movies or epic family novels. You should have stopped me before I went overboard.” She shook her head. “I should have said the name Monroe puts Archer on the defensive and left it at that.” She laughed, her blue eyes inspecting Eden closely. “I’m thinking you’re not a country girl?” Renata asked, reminding Eden where she was and what she was doing here.
“No, I’m not.” Eden shook her head. What the hell was she doing? She had a plan, one that didn’t need to get muddied by the unfounded speculation of a stranger. But Renata’s words eased some of Eden’s guilt over lying. Being Eden Caraway would make her job easier. And that was why she was here, period—to find justification to pull funding from Boone Ranch Refuge.
Renata seemed to be waiting for additional information—
“Renata?” Disapproval colored Archer’s tone. Not as sharp as when he was speaking to his employees, but definitely not welcoming. “She’s working. You’re interrupting.”
Archer seemed incapable of speaking to a human without condescension. But somehow, Renata didn’t let it get to her.
“You caught me.” Renata stood, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “I had to see the new recruit. People are talking, bets are being made, big brother.”
Archer’s blue eyes were glacial.
“Bets?” Eden asked, watching their interaction with interest. “What sort of bets?”
Renata glanced back and forth between them, smiling. “How long it’ll be before he chases you off.”
Archer continued to stare down his sister. “Is it too much to ask for a little professionalism, Renata?”
It was easy to empathize with him. His sister had come in and shared far too much information with her—a complete stranger. It was hard working with family. Even harder if one of them gets all chummy with the new employee, undermining authority. She knew exactly how that felt. Her brother, Greg, had tirelessly pursued Loretta, her first assistant. And once they’d gotten close, it hadn’t been pleasant.
She took in the pinched look around Archer’s blue eyes, the tightness bracketing his mouth, the posture that was anything but relaxed. Something about his stance resonated with her—a defensiveness, a vulnerability.
“Try?” One word, an order—and a plea. When he wasn’t being rude, he had a very nice voice.
Eden slid her reading glasses on, using them to shield her inspection of the man. The man on paper was so different from the man in front of her. The man on paper was well-researched fact, and countless achievements. An academic with years of fieldwork and expertise. The man in front of her was broad and thick. Muscled yet lean, appearing more inclined to do the labor than study or research. Clearly he was capable of both. Which was something new. The men in her life were more likely to pick up a phone and call a repairman instead of picking up a hammer and making the repair themselves.
“Fine.” Renata laughed. “I admit it, I heard about Fester and my curiosity was piqued.”
Archer’s blue eyes slammed into hers. He had piercing eyes that were...unnerving.
Hopefully he’d missed her thorough head-to-toe inspection. “What?” Her voice was tight and wary.
Archer shook his head, once.
“He didn’t even try to bite you?” Renata was watching her just as closely.
Eden glanced back and forth between them. “He followed me.” She shrugged. “And when I stopped, he’d push me forward with his nose.” Whether or not that was relevant, she didn’t know. Fester had seemed interested in her well-being. And after the initial fear had subsided, she’d appreciated his companionship.
“That’s all?” Renata asked.
“He...he clicked his teeth at me,” she mumbled.
Archer ran a hand over his face. “Clicked his teeth?”
“He did?” Renata’s surprise was obvious.
She nodded. Clearly it meant something. “Is that bad?”
Archer crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her. The silence, and Archer’s unflinching gaze, had her shifting in her chair. She hadn’t done anything wrong. I lied. Well, not where the horse was concerned, so why did she feel guilty?
“What did you do?” Archer’s voice was surprisingly soft. “When he clicked at you.”
“I...I talked to him.” She stared at the yellow invoice on the table.
“Talked to him?”
She glanced up at him. He seemed lost, working through some foreign concept or equation. When his gaze met hers again, his hostility was gone. But there was something equally unnerving in its place. Something warm and vibrant and heavy. She stared blindly at the papers in front of her.
Renata laughed. “I told you he’s a woman’s horse, Archer.”
“No,” Archer argued. “You’re a woman. He bit you.”
“Then maybe Fester has a crush.” Renata tapped the table. “Which means you, Miss Caraway, just got yourself a horse.”
Eden looked up then, startled. “Me?” That was the last thing she needed—more responsibility. Between her work, her family and her kids, she was shouldering enough. “No, thank you.”
“She’s teasing, Miss Caraway.” Archer was using that soothing tone again, and it was having an odd effect on her.
“I am. You’ll get used to it,” Renata agreed. “But now I have to run. Fisher and Kylee are finally going on a date and Tandy and I have twin duty. Can’t be late. Knowing Fisher, he’ll use it as an excuse to cancel—again. I know our brother so well.”
Eden saw Archer’s eye-roll, heard his mumbled, “It might help that you’re his twin.” She smiled before she could stop herself.
“You’re probably right. You could come with me? Help with diaper duty and bath time?”
Archer’s eyebrow arched sharply.
“Oh, come on Archer, if you could pretend your nephews were horses, you might actually like them—”
“I like them,” Archer interrupted.
“I know.” Renata pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You love us all, even if we drive you crazy.” She waved at Eden. “Nice to meet you, Eden.”
“You, too,” she answered.
Archer stayed where he was, his gaze sweeping the room. “Progress?”
“I think so.” She patted the four stacks she’d made, color-tabbed and neatly clipped, with accounting tapes affixed to the front.
“It’s almost eight.” He glanced at her.
“It is?” She looked around. No clock. “I had no idea.”
“Where are you staying?” he asked.
“The Lodge.” She met his gaze. “Since there is no time to waste, it made sense to stay close.”
“I can drive you.” It wasn’t an offer, it was a statement. Considering she had no way to get there, there was no point in arguing with him. Even if something deep inside her chest protested.
“Thank you,” she said, collecting her things—sliding his file between two packets—and tucking it all back into her briefcase.
He nodded, his expression rigid, and studied her. And while his gaze made her feel wobbly and unsteady, she had no idea how to read Dr. Archer Boone.
* * *
ARCHER HELD THE door open for her. She was limping as she stepped out onto the front porch. “You hurt?”
“Didn’t have the best hiking shoes.” S
he stopped at the edge of the porch, gripped the porch rail and took a deep breath. “It’s cool. I hadn’t expected that.”
Her hair was slipping from the clip on the back of her head; one long strand blew in the breeze. He cleared his throat, that peculiar tightening pressing in on him again. “Where is home for you?” He knew nothing about this woman except he was paying her very well for her time and expertise. And that he seemed to be allergic to her—perhaps it was her perfume? Whatever it was, his throat seemed to tighten whenever he was close to her.
“Houston,” she said. “Crisp evenings are a rarity.”
“Clear night,” he said, looking up. With the sun almost gone, the navy and black bled into the pale horizon. Overhead, the sky was already sparkling. Among the chirp of the crickets, the who-who of an owl rang out. “Hear that?” he asked.
She looked at him, eyebrow cocked in question.
“An owl.” He nodded into the dark but watched her.
She closed her eyes, perfectly still. She was listening, a line forming between her brows and her lips parting.
Eden Caraway was...odd. In his experience, women talked. Too much. But Eden didn’t volunteer information or reveal what she was thinking. She was reserved in a way that unnerved him. Her features were controlled, her voice neutral, yet she didn’t shy away from eye contact. But now, the slight flicker, some hint of an unchecked response, piqued his interest.
Her smile was disconcerting. It grew, erasing the furrow from her brow and bringing her to life. When her eyes opened, met his, his throat grew tight and his lungs empty.
“I hear it.” She stared out into the dark, leaning forward on the rail. When she looked up, she gasped. “So many stars.” Her whisper was so faint he wasn’t sure he’d heard her. She brushed past him, descending the stairs to stand and stare up at the night sky overhead.
He frowned, forcing his attention elsewhere. It was late and he was tired. His curiosity was solely because she was new—nothing more. The fact that she was here to help ensure his success most likely played a part in it, as well. He didn’t like relying on others. His motto, If You Want Something Done Right, Do It Yourself, served him well in life. But he had to put some trust in this unusual woman. Perhaps the fact that she was so attractive was the problem.
He cleared his throat.
Apparently he wasn’t the only one who had noticed. His cousin Toben was already making plans to show the temp a good time with a cowboy. He glanced at Miss Caraway...Eden, hoping she wasn’t interested in having a good time with his cousin—or any man, for that matter. He needed her undivided attention and time.
“Is that Fester?” Eden asked, pointing.
Sure enough, Fester was at the fence, head up, ears pricked forward, nickering sweetly—at Eden. He glanced at the woman, then the horse. “He’s talking to you.”
She looked at him. “How do you know?”
“Animals communicate just as clearly as people,” he said. “More so. There’s not as much room for misinterpretation. A horse nickers, he’s saying ‘Come talk to me.’ He snorts or blows, he’s excited—”
“What if he...if he sort of...” She glanced at him. “Hugged me?”
Archer looked at her. “What do you mean?”
“I...I caught my shoe between a couple of rocks so I stopped to free it... He stepped close so his chin was on the back of my shoulder and leaned his head against mine.” She used her hand and arm to clarify as she was talking.
“He did?” Archer sighed, pleased and frustrated at the same time.
She nodded.
“And he followed you back? Behind you?” he asked.
She nodded again. “It might sound strange, but I think he was watching over me.”
“Not strange,” Archer argued. “Intuitive. He was watching over you.”
Fester kept up the nickering, tossing his head a little.
“May I?” she asked.
Archer nodded, walking down the fence line to turn on a few lights. He hung back, curious to see the exchange between Fester and the only human the horse had acknowledged favorably.
“Should I do anything?” She glanced back at him, hesitating.
“No,” Archer said. “There’s a fence between you. He just wants you close.”
“Do you?” she asked Fester, her voice soft and calm—not high-pitched or affected but inviting and warm.
Fester stretched his head out, and Eden stepped closer.
Archer was in shock. Not only did Fester clearly adore the woman, Eden seemed to understand exactly what Fester needed. She didn’t reach for him, she simply stood and let the horse nicker and blow against her chest and neck. She didn’t try to touch his nose or rub the horse’s face. She might not realize that was significant, but he did. A person didn’t like a stranger touching their face. Neither did most horses. Somehow, Eden Caraway understood that.
“Hi,” she said softly. “Thank you for walking me here.”
Archer draped his arm on the top rail of the wooden fence, resting his chin. What the hell? Maybe Renata was right? Maybe Fester recognized something in Eden that brought him pleasure. Whatever it was, it made him happy to see Fester so content. This was what he wanted for all the horses that came through the refuge. A sense of comfort and belonging.
The shrill chirp of a cell phone split the night. Fester jerked his head back, his chin clipping the side of Eden’s head as the horse startled.
“Are you okay?” Archer asked, instantly at her side.
“I’m fine.” She was rubbing her head. “It’s not his fault.” She pressed her hand to her forehead. “It spooked me, too.”
He liked the way she defended Fester. “We should probably get you some ice. Just in case.”
“I’m fine,” she argued, waving him away before she pulled her cell phone from her pocket. “Yes?” she answered.
Archer stared at her. She’d dismissed him.
“When did this happen?” There was no sign of the calm and controlled Eden Caraway now. “He just left?” Her tone was razor-edged as she stalked the length of the fence. “I can’t... Oh, Clara.”
He saw her shoulders droop. Saw Fester clop down the fence line to nicker at her.
“No, of course. We’ll make it work. I’ll book the first flight out tomorrow. Give them kisses for me, Clara.” She hung up the phone, leaning her head against Fester’s broad nose without thought.
“There a problem?” he asked, bracing himself. He’d do whatever he could to make her stay. He needed her help.
“No.” She collected herself, her posture stiffening and her voice deadpan once more. “No problem at all. I do, however, need to get to the Lodge. I have some personal business to attend to.”
Archer nodded. “Nothing that will interfere with your work, I hope?” If he sounded callous, it wasn’t intentional.
She shook her head, not bothering to make eye contact as she brushed past him. “Not at all.”
He sighed, relief washing over him. She was staying, and he would be ready to convince Mr. Monroe that his continued support of the refuge was essential for expansion. “I’ll take you to the Lodge,” he said, the weight of his deadline easing for the first time since he’d received Monroe’s letter.
Chapter Three
Eden finished scanning the invoices for the first quarter and set to work color-coding the tabs on the spreadsheet she was creating. She liked having everything in one place, no back and forth, riffling through things for backup or verification. After tossing and turning in her bed all night, she appreciated the distraction her work was giving her. If she didn’t have something to do, she was likely to call Clark and rip into him for what he’d done.
Did Ivy understand her father had broken his word—again? No. She was too young to know. Eden hoped. But Eden knew. This wasn’t the first time Clark had been sent on some
“emergency” trip that conveniently fell on the week he’d demanded for his visitation. This wasn’t the first time Clark had promised Ivy all sorts of adventures and fun and time only to take off before any of his promises were fulfilled. This wasn’t the first time she’d been forced to adjust her schedule even after she’d been assured that he had everything under control and that she should relax.
Thank God for Clara.
Clara, Ivy and baby Lily would be here soon. The suite at the Lodge would work, putting them all in one large room for the remainder of her stay. The rental car company had upgraded her sedan to a minivan so Clara and the girls weren’t stuck in the Lodge all day. As pissed as she was at Clark, she was equally delighted that the girls were coming. She hated being parted from them. Lily was still so small, just seven months old. The thought of missing out on a milestone—rolling over, laughs, funny faces—was too much for her. And Ivy, her wide-eyed ray of light, made her look forward to coming home all day, every day.
“Coffee?” Archer placed a large cup of black coffee on the corner of the table.
Eden glanced at the cup, then the man she’d decided to avoid as much as possible.
It wasn’t just that she’d had a surprisingly intimate dream about him. But even awake, she had to accept that she was attracted to him. And while Archer Boone seemed clueless to pretty much everything that wasn’t horse-related, she’d be mortified if he caught her ogling his angular jaw or intense eyes or firm thighs. And his butt. Nicely showcased in his well-worn, work-faded jeans.
“No?” he asked, reaching for the cup.
He was standing right there. Stop thinking about his body. “Thank you.” She was so startled that she grabbed the handle and took a sip, scalding the roof of her mouth in the process.
“It’s hot,” he said.
She nodded, setting the cup down to cover her mouth. “Yes, it sure is,” she mumbled, her words garbled.
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