by Rachel Hanna
“Yeah. It was nice to see. You always look a little serious, but for those few moments - actually, since you’ve gotten to Clover Lake - you looked serene. Happy.”
“Huh…” she murmured to herself.
“Until I crashed you into a tree, that is. I’m so sorry, Paige. Are you sure nothing is hurt?” He instinctively reached out and touched her arm, but she jolted as if his hand was burning her. He pulled back.
“I’m fine. Really. But does this mean our tour is over?” She was smiling. Smiling was good.
“No. Actually, we can at least walk to the stables from here. Do you like horses?”
“I want to like horses,” she said with a laugh.
“You want to?”
“I’ve never even touched a horse, but I’d love to learn to ride.”
“How about we start with touching one?” he said. “Come on.”
As they walked toward the barn, he watched her looking around in amazement, but he also paid better attention to where he was walking. Tripping over a stump would be a bad idea at this point.
“Hey, Phil!” he called out to his farm handyman who was fiddling with a broken piece of fencing at the corner of the property.
“Hey, man! I didn’t know you were home for the weekend ’til I saw Miss Elda watching her shows in the sitting room,” he said, referring to Elda’s lifelong obsession with soap operas. Her hearing was so bad that she had to turn on closed captioning now, but woe be to the person who interrupted her soaps.
Brett shook Phil’s hand. Phil had been working at the farm for about a decade now, and he could fix anything - like some kind of mechanical wizard.
“Yeah, she wanted to come back for a few days. Phil, this is Paige Emerson. She’s Aunt Elda’s bookstore manager. Well, I guess she’s my manager now…” Why was he stammering? He was her boss, yet he was the nervous one.
“Nice to meet ya, Paige. Welcome to Clover Lake.”
“Thank you,” she said, reaching out and shaking Phil’s orange clay stained hand.
“Listen, we had a little mishap with the golf cart over there in the wood patch. You think you can work some of your magic?”
Phil laughed. “How many times are you gonna wreck that thing, man?” He shook his head as he started walking toward the woods. Paige looked at him and bit her lips to stop from laughing.
“I’m not saying a word…” she said, giggling under her breath.
Chapter 7
Paige stood watching Brett as he checked on each horse in the stable. It was a state-of-the-art place with plenty of stalls and lighting. She was surprised at how clean it was, but Brett didn’t seem to do anything halfway. Everything was top of the line, right down to his truck.
“Come here,” he said, waving her over. She slowly walked toward him as he stood next to one of the horses inside the stall. It was a beautiful brown horse with a white stripe down its nose. “This is Noelle, my prized girl.”
Paige reached out and rubbed her hand across Noelle’s snout. The horse threw her head a bit, but calmed right back down.
“She likes you,” he said softly.
“And how do you know that?” Paige asked as she continued moving her hand up and down the horse’s snout.
“Because she tossed her head a bit when you touched her. That’s how she shows excitement.”
“How long have you had her?”
“About six years now. She was born on Christmas morning.”
“Hence the name Noelle…”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She loved how he talked. After living in New York City for awhile, she’d grown accustomed to the thick accents she heard on a daily basis, but it was nice to hear a true Southern accent again. For some reason, being called “ma’am” by Brett didn’t make her cringe. It kind of made her legs feel weak.
“You want to ride her?” he asked, his eyes glimmered like a kid on Christmas morning.
“Are you serious? No way…”
“It’s no big deal. I’ll help you.”
“But what if she takes off?”
“Noelle’s a good girl. She won’t take off.”
Without thinking, Paige made a different suggestion. “I’ll only do it if you’ll ride with me.”
“Of course. I have another horse I can ride…”
“No. I mean both of us on Noelle. Is that possible?” Why was she asking him this? The last thing she needed was to have her body pressed against his yet again. That golf cart incident almost sent her over the edge the last time. Who knew being thrown from a vehicle after hitting a tree could be so erotically charged?
“Sure. We can do that.”
She could swear she heard his voice shaking.
Brett opened the stall and took Noelle out into an open area. Paige knew nothing about horses, but she watched him saddle her up and do all of the regular “horse stuff” that people must do when they want to ride. All she could look at was Brett in his form hugging “man jeans”, a thin line of sweat on the back of his t-shirt leading to places she could only imagine.
There was something about watching a man in his element, doing things with such authority. Watching Daniel do his job had been different. There was nothing sensual about business phone calls and deals across conference tables. But watching a cowboy get a horse ready to ride was better than any romance movie she’d seen on the big screen.
“Ready?” he asked. Her face was flush with just how much she was ready, and because of the fact that he just caught her checking him out.
“Yep,” she said, slowly walking toward him.
“Okay. You’re going to put your left foot here in this stirrup,” he started to explain. “Once you do, push up and swing your right leg over Noelle…”
“Alright,” she said as she started to do what he was telling her. She tried to swing her right leg over, but her petite frame wasn’t allowing her legs to reach far enough. That’s when she felt Brett’s large hand on her butt, pushing her upward so she could get her leg to the other side.
When he let go, she felt the absence of his hand on her butt. What the heck? Why was her body betraying her and acting this way. She had just met him. And he was her new boss. And she was still grieving Daniel.
Before she had more time to think, he was swinging his leg over the horse behind her, and now she was nestled snugly between his strong, muscled legs. She could feel his taut chest behind her, the heat of his body mixing with the heat of hers.
“Ready?” he whispered into her ear, his voice a mixture of masculinity and Southern charm with a bit of gruffness thrown in.
“Brett! Brett!” she could hear a woman with an accent calling in the distance. She turned to see what could only be described as a supermodel in a white sundress and cowboy boots running toward them holding a piece of paper. The woman had long, thick, flowing black hair with perfect waves. Her toothy white smile was on full display, and her ice blue eyes looked both beautiful and evil at the same time.
“Amira, what do you want? We’re about to go for a ride,” he said.
Amira. His assistant. The one he’d mentioned in the truck, and the very same one he sounded so unsure or evasive about when he mentioned her.
“Hello. I’m Amira. And you are?” She was looking up, directly into Paige’s eyes.
“This is Paige. She runs the bookstore I just bought. Now, what do you want?”
“Is that any way to speak to your business partner, Brett? And in front of company…”
Paige could feel a lump forming in her throat. Business partner? Brett had referred to her as his assistant. She felt him shift behind her.
“Sounds like you two need to have a chat about your business,” Paige said as she made a move to slide off the horse. Brett reached an arm around her waist and pulled her back between his legs.
“No. We don’t. Amira can wait. I took today off,” he said. His voice was stern as he looked at her standing on the ground. She was not happy. Paige could tell that much for certain.
“It’s about the horse show.”
“Which is in three weeks. We’ll talk Monday. Have a good weekend,” he said, and with that, he shook the reins and the horse trotted away, leaving Amira standing there. Paige couldn’t help but take a glance back at her as they turned, and Amira looked like she could shoot daggers at the pair of them with just her eyes.
They rode in silence for a few moments, Paige enjoying the feeling of the gentle spring breeze against her face. She’d have been lying if she said she wasn’t also enjoying the feeling of being against a man again, even if it was her new boss.
A part of her wondered if this was somehow inappropriate all the way around. Riding between the strong legs of her cowboy boss just a few of days after meeting him. And stunning him with her taser. Yeah, there was nothing particularly “right” about the whole situation.
And she was a strong woman with a good head on her shoulders. She knew when to stop, when to not let her emotions get the better of her.
“I guess you’re wondering what that was all about,” Brett finally said after riding for a few minutes. She could feel the lingering irritation in his voice.
“Nope. That’s your business. I’m just the manager of a bookstore, Mr. Larson.”
“Oh really?” he said with a laugh. “Well, I’m going to tell you anyway.”
They rode to a spot beside a small pond and he stopped the horse. The place was beautiful with a newish dock and a gazebo beside the bluish-green water. Brett jumped off the horse and reached up, taking Paige’s hand as she carefully started to slide off. Without warning, he picked her up and put her on the ground in one swift movement.
“I could’ve done it myself, you know.”
“Yeah. I know,” he said, smiling that dimpled grin that encouraged her to make bad decisions.
He led her to the dock, and they both sat down with their feet dangling over the edge. The water level was down a bit, so her toes were a good six inches from touching the surface.
“Amira is complicated.”
Paige chuckled. “Yes, she seems to be.”
In fact, Amira reminded her of a lot of the socialite women she’d met while working in New York. High maintenance. Thought they were above everyone else. And yet she had to wonder why and how a woman like this ended up on a Georgia ranch.
“Her father was an investor in this place when my Dad was alive. We went through a rough patch back in the eighties, and her father became a partner. They were new to the US from Egypt. Amira was just a girl. We played together a lot when her father would come to look at the financials and keep watch over his investment. After some time, my Dad really didn’t like him as a partner. He wanted to be a solo show again, but Ali - that was her father - didn’t want to sell his share. There was a lot of contempt there. My Dad was so stressed over that and other things going on in his life at the time, he… well, he made a bad decision.”
“Bad decision?”
“He jumped from a bridge, Paige.”
Her heart clenched up. She wanted to reach out and hold his hand or hug him or something. She knew that kind of pain. Actually, his pain was probably a lot worse than hers. As much as she loved Daniel, she’d only known him a few months. Less than a year. He’d known and loved his father for his entire life.
“I’m so sorry, Brett.” She didn’t really know what else to say. When someone is grieving a loss like that, there really is nothing to say. She knew that people’s words had meant little to her these last few months.
“Thanks. It’s been over three years now, but it’s still hard.”
“And your mother?”
“She passed away when I was a baby. My father raised me, made me who I am today.” His voice caught in this throat for a moment. “Anyway, eventually, Ali was diagnosed with cancer. He died last year, but Amira took over. And, well… Amira has always been a bit…”
“Snotty? Bitchy?”
Brett let out a big laugh. “Well, yes, but that’s not what I was going to say.”
“Sorry.”
“She’s kind of obsessed with… me.”
“Oh,” Paige said.
“She doesn’t live on the property, but she does occasionally stay here when she doesn’t want to drive back to Atlanta. She’s here at least once every couple of weeks, mainly checking on her horses and preparing for shows. I don’t get involved too much, but it does bring a small slice of income to the ranch, so it gives her yet another reason to spend time with me. And since I’ve been gone to Colorado for awhile, she’s probably been antsy to start pursuing me again.”
“Have you ever considered giving her a chance at winning your cowboy heart?” she asked with a smile.
“I don’t think my cowboy heart could take that,” he responded with a chuckle.
“Why are you telling me all of this?” Paige finally asked.
“I don’t really know. You feel like… a friend?”
Her heart rate shot up and then back down. Why did the thought of being his friend make her happy and sad at the same time?
“So you want advice?” she asked with a smile.
“If you have some.”
“I actually don’t. She seems like a handful. I would just say to watch your back, Brett. That woman is bad news.”
He sighed and nodded. “I’m afraid you might be right.”
Brett had thoroughly enjoyed his time sitting with Paige by the lake. But the incident with Amira showing up when she was supposed to be away for the weekend was frustrating. She was a poison in his life that he just couldn’t seem to get rid of, and the last thing he wanted was for Paige to feel uncomfortable at Clover Lake.
After parting ways with Paige, Brett had gone to check on Aunt Elda who was snoozing in front of the TV. He woke her up and fed her some lunch - her favorite “farm” meal of black-eyed peas, raw onion and cornbread - and let her doze off again.
The truth was, his aunt was sleeping more and more, and that was starting to concern him. He planned to call the doctor to come see her at the ranch sometime before she left.
He also called The Cove and checked on the new temp girl who was running it for the next couple of days. She’d worked there as a temp the Christmas before, so she knew the ins and outs and seemed to have everything under control.
Paige had gone upstairs to change out of her “smelly horse clothes”, as she put it. When she walked back downstairs, she was wearing a pair of jeans and a baby blue t-shirt that fit her in all the right spots. He looked down and noticed her wearing the same sneakers he saw before.
“Don’t you own a pair of boots?” he asked with a laugh.
“I lived in New York City, Brett. Not much call for cowboy boots there unless I wanted prissy socialites pointing and laughing at me.”
“Well, then, maybe we need to run an errand.”
“I don’t need boots. I live by the beach now.”
“Are you saying you’ll never visit Clover Lake again after this weekend?”
She studied him carefully for a moment. “I think I would cry if I never got to visit here again.”
He grinned. “Then lets get you a pair of boots that you can keep here when you need to get away.”
“Get away from what?” she asked.
“Your own mind. Come on. We’ll grab some lunch too.”
A few minutes later, they were in the truck heading toward Savannah. Brett was excited to show her the sights, and she seemed excited too as she talked the whole way and pointed out things on the short drive into town.
“Gosh, I love this city. It’s so historical and quaint,” she said.
“Yeah. It feels like being transported back in time, doesn’t it?”
Brett pulled up to a restaurant in the historic district. “You like seafood?”
“I love it, and I haven’t had any good catfish in years.”
He smiled. “Then you’re going to love their pecan crusted catfish and homemade hushpuppies,” he said.
He got
out and she waited this time for him to open the door, which he considered progress. He opened it and helped her down, and then they walked toward the old, historic building. It was dark red brick with lush green plants lining the sidewalk near the door.
“The owner of this place was Jack Mallard, a good friend of my Dad’s. His son, Mike, runs it now. Best seafood in the state, as far as I’m concerned.”
They walked inside and got seated. Now he got to look at her. How would he stop himself from looking like some kind of weirdo?
She was just so different from any woman he’d ever met. Her hair was thick and wavy and dark, like sunshine mixed with milk chocolate. Her skin was what he would call fair, or maybe porcelain, with a smattering of light orange freckles dotting the bridge of her nose. But it was her lips he couldn’t stop staring at. They were the perfect shade of pink without any lipstick and her top lip was upturned toward her nose as if it was begging to be bitten. By him.
He tried to think of manure again. It didn’t work. So he thought of Phil wearing lingerie and that did the trick for the time being.
“What can I get y’all to drink?” the waitress asked.
“I’ll take sweet tea, light ice and no lemon, please,” Paige said.
“I’ll have the same,” Brett said. The waitress laid two menus down and walked to the back. “Light ice and no lemon.”
“What?”
“I’ve ordered the same thing for years. Just never heard anyone do the same.”
She smiled. “Ice waters it down. Tea should be deep and dark and syrupy. And lemon, well… yuck.”
Brett laughed. “I guess we have that in common, at least.”
“I bet we have a lot of things in common, actually.”
“Oh yeah? Let’s test that. Favorite color?”
“Blue. And you?” she asked.
“Green.”
“Darn. Okay, favorite dessert?”
“Peach cobbler.”
“Love it, but my fave would have to be poundcake. And I mean the good stuff made with buttermilk and the whole nine yards,” she said.
“How did you ever survive as a Southerner in New York City?” He raised an eyebrow.
