by Jeannie Moon
“You’re going to teach her how to ride?” Roger went over to Da, and nudged his hand; the horse knew there was a treat hiding somewhere on this human.
“I’ll get her up on a horse today, yeah. Who do you suggest?”
His father though for a second, no doubt mentally going through each of the school horses, deciding which one would be the best. “Has she ever ridden?”
“Once or twice. Nothing formal.”
“Hmm. Put her on Pip. He’s not too big and he’ll behave himself.”
Nate agreed. Pip was a fifteen-hand chestnut gelding who had definitely mellowed over the years. He used to be one of the best jumpers of the school horses, fast and fearless, but an injury slowed him down a bit and made him perfect for the beginners.
“Is she skinny, this girl? I’m trying to think which saddle to use.”
Nate smiled. Jenna was definitely not what he’d call skinny. She had plenty of curves . . . all in the right places. “I’ll pick out a saddle. Don’t worry about it.”
“I need help with the worming before your lassie gets here. So get a move on.”
Roger had wandered out into the paddock and was happily munching on some grass. Looking beyond, the rolling land of the farm, made into a checkerboard by the white fences, stretched on into the hills at the far end of the property.
It was a huge tract of land and very unusual for Long Island. Anything this big had been sold off and carved up into high-priced subdivisions with gaudy brick McMansions. But his family prided themselves on keeping this industry alive and well in an area with one of the biggest horse populations in the country.
The McNamaras had started Kylemore Farm when Nate’s great-great-grandfather, Brian, who had worked as a barn manager on one of the grand Gold Coast estates, was left forty acres of the estate’s land before World War I. It included the caretaker’s house, the barns, acres of prime pasture land, and a nice amount of cash to get the business going. His benefactor’s family was livid that the estate had been cut up, especially for a no-name like his grandfather, but no matter what they tried, the will was iron-clad.
Ten years later, Kylemore was one of the best breeding programs on the East Coast. His family home was built, a large gray stone Georgian-style house that was elegant and welcoming at the same time. For his wife, his great-grandfather put in formal gardens reminiscent of the abbey in County Galway after which the farm was named.
Their family history was everything with the McNamaras. They were a real rags-to-riches story. A testament to hard work.
His father expanded the dream when he opened the show barn in the Hamptons ten years ago. Part riding school and part destination, the place was most active in the summer when the wealthy brought their horses to the East End for the season. The place was beautiful. Big and well equipped, Nate loved this farm and these barns.
There was magic here, and a soul, that the Hamptons property lacked.
Nothing could replace magic.
***
The feeling that she wasn’t in Kansas anymore started as soon as Jenna made the turn into the driveway. There was a gate at the end and on one of the stone pillars was a weathered bronze sign that read KYLEMORE FARMS.
Kylemore. Nate’s home had a name. Granted, it was where the family did business, but still. She’d gone past the entrance to this place many times. She knew it was a horse farm because of the large sculpture that graced the entrance of the property, but she didn’t know who lived up the long driveway behind the walls and hedgerows. Sometimes when she was pumpkin picking at the nursery next to the property, she could catch a glimpse of the horses in the distance. Once, when she was about eight, she thought about climbing over the fence and claimed she’d gotten lost. Lost. Climbing over a fence. Dumb.
In the end she chickened out, but having seen those beautiful animals, the green fields, and the trees throughout the property made Jenna wish she’d had more nerve. A man in the distance who was leading one of the horses toward the barn had waved to her. She’d waved back, thinking it must be the best thing ever to be in a place like that.
That was when she started begging for riding lessons. It never happened.
But now Nate said he would teach her. She was so excited she went to a local tack shop and bought herself some simple short boots, a basic helmet, and a pair of gloves. She didn’t go crazy, but it was fun doing something new.
As she traveled down the tree-lined drive, the flowerbeds full of summer blooms and the white split-rail fence made the place look like a postcard. She’d never been so happy she’d brought her camera. In the distance she saw horses grazing. Going slowly, the trees gave way to a large open space, and Jenna couldn’t do anything but give herself a minute to take in the view.
To her right was a gray stone cottage with a large front porch and several pickup trucks parked close by. A gravel road went behind the cottage and back to the barns. It wasn’t until she looked ahead, at the main house, that Jenna felt the need to get out of her Jeep.
House? This was no house. It was a mansion, an honest-to-God mansion. Never in her wildest dreams as a kid did she believe she would know someone who lived in such a place. That people grew up this way. Muttontown was a wealthy village and many residents had big houses on acres of land, but this was the most opulent house she’d ever seen. Staring at the large home, she counted three floors and seven chimneys. There were porticos over the front door and off to one side. If she remembered what Nate told her correctly, the property encompassed over forty acres.
Too stunned to move, it took a tug on her sleeve to bring her back to Earth. Nate stood next to her, grinning.
“It’s something, huh?” he asked.
“It’s a work of art. Oh, my God. It’s beautiful.”
He laughed. “I should have known you’d say that.”
She rolled her eyes in acceptance. “I’m predictable.”
“Sometimes.” His eyes scanned the inside of the truck. “Is that coffee in there?”
“Yeah, I stopped at Dunks. Hang on.” She got back in the truck. “Let me pull next to the house.”
Jenna parked the Jeep next to one of three large blue pickups with the KYLEMORE FARMS logo on the side and grabbed the tray with the hot coffee. Perched on the tailgate of one of the trucks, Jenna had a chance to take in Nate’s look. He wore jeans, boots, and a loose-fitting chambray work shirt with the sleeves rolled up. A pair of work gloves peeked out of his back pocket. He was a little sweaty and dirty, and Jenna had to admit, this was the most gorgeous she’d ever seen him. He was the picture of American male. Handsome, rugged, and down to earth.
She handed him the tray and hopped up on the tailgate next to him. Nate took his coffee black, but Jenna still hadn’t acquired a taste for the hard stuff. She liked hers with chocolate and lots of milk. Although the two shots of espresso in the cafe mocha would give her quite a jolt.
Grabbing the placket of his shirt, she gave it a little tug. “I like this look on you.”
“Do you?” He leaned down and kissed her, and Jenna’s entire system melted down. The strength of him, the warmth coming off his body, the scent . . . the man was hot, and somehow the words serious and geek just didn’t apply. He kept kissing her until they heard a booming voice coming from behind them.
“I smell coffee, and there’d better be enough for me.” Jenna was glad she brought extra. Nate had already unseated one of the cups and handed it to the man as soon as he rounded the side of the truck. “Thank Jesus. All Sally gave me this morning was some weak tea. How’s a man supposed to get through his day with weak tea.” He took a long swallow of the brew and smiled at her. She wasn’t sure at first, but without a doubt this was Nate’s father. “Should I be thanking you for this, lass?” He raised his cup. “It’s certainly welcome.”
“Glad it hit the spot.” She extended her hand. “I’m Jenna. It’s nice to meet
you, Mr. Bayard.”
“Och. Call me Liam. And thank you for the coffee.” He leaned against the back of the truck. “So I hear you’re taking your first lesson today?”
“Yes, I’m excited.”
“You’ve got a world-class trainer there.” He motioned to Nate.
“Da, come on.”
“No, she should know that you almost made the Olympic Team.”
Jenna snapped her head toward him. “No way! Really? Why didn’t I know that?”
“He doesn’t like tellin’ folks. I don’t know why.”
“He’s too modest,” Jenna grinned at Nate, who appeared to be blushing. “You are full of surprises.”
“Come on.” He hopped off the truck bed and took her hand. “Let me show you around.”
“It was lovely meeting you, Jenna. I’ll be seeing you shortly with your horse.”
All she could do was wave as Nate dragged her away. “You and your dad look so much alike. The smile, the eyes . . .”
He was moving pretty fast, his long stride chewing up the ground as they followed the cobblestone path around the cottage. Once there and out of sight from prying eyes, Nate pushed her against a large oak tree, pinned her with his hips, and set his hands on each side of her head. He said nothing, he just kissed her.
It was hot, wet, open-mouthed. It was meant to devour. To be desperate. To consume. Heat flared in her middle and traveled out. She was aware of him from head to toe, fingertip to fingertip, and the throbbing between her legs was the cruelest of all. He ground into her, his erection pressing against her belly as he moved his lips over hers, his tongue dipped in and out of her mouth, and Jenna thought she might come right there. “God, Nate.” She could barely breathe. “Nate, someone could see us.”
“Let them.”
She pushed against him and broke contact when all she wanted was to let him take her right against the tree. It was crazy the way they reacted to each other. The heat, the need, drove her crazy. Obviously it drove him crazy, too. “I’ve been having the dirtiest fantasies about you,” he ground out as he nipped at her chin. “So. Very. Dirty.”
“Tell me about them later and we’ll see what we can do.”
“I need you in my bed, Jenna. Waking up alone was the worst thing ever.”
Holy shit. This was serious stuff. It was permanence and commitment and happily ever after. That wasn’t in the plan, but then Jenna imagined what it would be like to wake up with him every day. She had to admit it would be pretty damn awesome.
But she couldn’t get her hopes up. Could she?
“I missed you,” he whispered.
“You saw me yesterday.”
“I know. I must sound insane, but I’ve gotten used to being with you, Jen. I love being with you.” His leaned in so only she could hear him. “I’ve grown used to catching your scent when I wake up. Feeling your body next to mine, knowing I can slip inside you as you open your eyes and we can start the day making love.” He rubbed his scruffy cheek on hers. “Tell me you want that, too.”
She nodded because who the hell didn’t want that? “You do not play fair. How am I going to spend the day here now? All I’m going to think about is being with you.”
He smiled wide. “That’s not a bad thing in my book.”
***
Once their libidos calmed down, Jenna grabbed her camera and they took a walk around the property. She took photos of the open fields where the horses grazed, shot the house, the barns from a distance and Nate. She took many pictures of Nate, because there was no way she could resist it. There were so many opportunities—working with his da, talking and joking with some of the grooms and stable hands, working with the horses.
“Warwick Nelson, who built the estate, was into polo. He kept six polo ponies here. He also had carriage horses and ponies for his children.” Nate was giving a mini history lesson as he gave her a tour of the property.
“How many horses can you keep?”
“There are twenty-four stalls for boarders and school horses. And we’re full up. We also have the breeding barn, and a training barn.”
“Wow. How many horses are here total?”
“About forty. We employ ten grooms, two barn managers. Office staff. It’s a big operation for what’s considered a small business. My parents oversee everything. Mostly Da now, and I told you, my mother’s not well.”
“Do all those people live here?”
“The barn managers do. Each has a cottage at the front of the property, similar to the one you parked near. That one over there, near the schooling ring, has two purposes. The first floor is for the business. There’s a kitchen, bathroom and offices. The second floor has two bedrooms and a small living area. The grooms cycle in and out of the overnight shifts, so they have a comfortable place to stay.”
“I’m so impressed.”
Jenna raised her camera, which was hanging around her neck, and took some photos of the house, the barns, the people, and the horses. There was so much to take in, and his family was to be admired. They may have had a lot of money, but boy, did they earn it.
“Look at this shot.” Jenna showed Nate a picture she’d just snapped of his father with one of the horses. It was a true study of the man. He was standing near a big, black horse, his hands on the beast’s neck and in turn the horse, with its eyes closed was resting his big head on his father’s shoulder.
“That’s him to the ground. You’ll have to show my mother that one. She’ll love it.”
“I’ll make her a print, have it framed, if you think she’d like it.”
“She’d love it. This is my father. You caught him like no one ever has.”
That’s what Jenna liked to hear. “I’m blown away by this place. It’s . . . I dunno. It’s magic. There’s a feeling here that goes beyond something special.”
Nate’s eyes went soft as he leaned in and kissed her cheek. “You have no idea what hearing you say that means to me. Very few people understand.”
How could people not understand? That made no sense to her. “All anyone would have to do if they want to understand is listen.”
“Listen?”
“Stop. Don’t say anything. Just listen. Breathe and listen.”
Nate did what she asked, and Jenna closed her eyes, doing the same. She felt the warmth of the sun and at the same time a cool breeze licked at her skin. She heard leaves rustling, birds singing, men talking, footsteps and hooves moving about. There was no glorification of busy. But work was happening, life was happening. There was purpose.
And peace.
God, she loved it here.
Opening her eyes, Jenna gazed at the man holding her hand and realized something else . . . she was in love with him. Deeply, passionately in love with him.
This was a disaster.
Chapter Nine
He should be good with his hands.
—#14, Jenna’s Boyfriend List
“The goal with everything that’s been done here was to maintain the original stable building. It was a piece of history no one wanted to let go.”
Jenna brushed Pip, who had been a perfect gentleman during her lesson. “I’m glad. This is an amazing example of the excess of the time period, but it’s stunning, nonetheless. It would have been a crime not to preserve it.”
The main stable was a two-story, all-brick structure, with a slate roof, grand carriage doors, and a huge Palladian window in a gable over the center. There was an apartment on one side of the second floor and a hayloft on the other. It was a U-shaped building with a brick courtyard, a brick aisle, and every amenity a horse or horse owner could imagine. Even though it was built in 1890, it had updated easily.
“My great-grandfather lived in the apartment on the second floor when he started working on the estate.”
She put the brush back in the bucket, and pul
led out a hoof pick. “Now what do I have to do with this? It looks dangerous.”
Nate was treating her like every other student and he was really proud of the fact that she’d jumped in with both feet. “Let me show you. It’s tricky the first couple of times.”
He picked Pip’s feet and then led the horse to his turnout. As soon as he was off his leadline, Pip trotted off into the pasture.
“So, do I get to meet Roger?” she asked, remembering what he’d told her about his old horse.
Nate grinned, grabbed her hand, and walked her to the next paddock. Once he gave Jenna a kiss for good measure, he put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. The horses, who were across the paddock, all lifted their heads from grazing and trotted toward the fence.
“They come when they’re called?” she asked. “Like dogs?”
“Some do.” Roger could be intimidating. He was a huge horse at almost eighteen hands and 1,300 pounds, but for all his bulk he was nothing more than a puppy. Nate reached into the pocket of his jeans and put a treat on the flat of his hand. Roger gobbled it up and nudged him for another. He fed treats to the two mares in the adjacent paddock before giving Roger anything else. Then he offered a carrot to Jenna.
“You want to give it to him?”
She looked stricken. “Me?”
“Sure. Open your hand like this.” Nate broke the carrot and then showed her the proper way to offer it, with the fingers straight and palm up. Jenna followed his lead, and when he put the carrot in the palm of her hand, Jenna slowly moved it toward the snorting horse.
“His teeth are pretty big,” she said nervously. “He doesn’t bite, does he?”
He shook his head. “He’s not a biter . . . usually.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Usually.” She turned her head at the same moment Roger took the carrot. It startled her and Nate laughed as she took a step away from the fence.
“He’s so big. I can’t get over it.”
“He doesn’t know that.”
They stood in silence while she pet Roger and gave him another treat. After a few minutes, the horse trotted away.
