by Ward, J. R.
“Where are you going?” Her father’s voice was panicked as he splayed his hands out wide, as if he were prepared to block and tackle the trailer. He looked absurd, wearing his tailored tweed suit and club tie, standing like that.
Peter was shaking his head, trying to drag her father out of the way. “Garrett, let her go. Better that she cool off somewhere else. She’ll be back in the morning.”
A.J. stuck her head out of the open window. “A change of scenery isn’t going to calm me down.”
With that, she put her foot on the gas and the mammoth trailer lurched forward. She didn’t know what she was going to do if her father didn’t move.
Peter yanked Garrett out of the way.
“You’ll be back!” her stepbrother yelled after her as she left.
Peter was wrong about that but, after driving around aimlessly for some time, A.J. was growing desperate. Feeling overwhelmed, she downshifted and brought the trailer to a rumbling halt in the parking lot of an all-night diner located at the side of a country road. Most of its customers were local farmers and A.J. was well-known as one of the regulars but she didn’t want to go inside, no matter how merry it looked. It would be hard to explain why she was out on her own with the trailer in the dark without letting on about the split with her family.
A.J. sat in the cab, staring into the glow of the dashboard and rubbing her solitaire back and forth. In the back of her mind, she’d been thinking for the past few years that it was time to make a life of her own. She just never figured she’d make a declaration of independence quite so flagrantly, and it was hard not to feel lonely and worried. No matter how constraining she’d found Peter and her father, they offered her protection and security. Now, on her own, the choice she’d made and the responsibility she’d taken on seemed unsupportable.
It was the first time she’d felt that way. She’d always been impulsive and, if things hadn’t turned out exactly as she’d intended, she’d usually been able to string something together at the last minute. Now her well of ideas was dry. Nothing was coming to her as she sat in the driver’s seat with no place to go. The only thing she knew was that turning back wasn’t an option.
A.J. glanced down at the clock again and tried to focus. The other big stables would be closed at this hour but she reviewed the closest ones once more, one by one. It was fruitless. She hadn’t found a solution in the mental list before, and she didn’t now.
Stretching her neck, which was stiff from tension, she caught sight of her baseball cap. Picking it up, she was struck by a crazy idea. Enticing hazel eyes came to mind.
Did she dare?
A moment later, she was back on the road, heading in the direction she’d come from. Driving past Sutherland Stables and not going in felt all wrong, a disturbing combination of anger, guilt and homesickness. She kept going.
Down the road a few miles, on the left, she saw the diminutive sign she was looking for. Unlike the arching expanse that marked the Sutherland compound, this was a simple clapboard on a post. It read MCCLOUD.
A.J. eased the truck onto a dirt road, its surface wide and even, perfectly suited for horse trailers and farm equipment. Driving up the lane, she went through a wooded expanse that soon opened to a stretch of meadows that was intersected by dark rail fences. Moonlight washed over the landscape, giving it an otherworldly glow, like a dream.
Up ahead, buildings appeared. There were two stables, small compared to Sutherland’s, but she guessed they were able to hold at least six horses apiece. A jumping and schooling ring was to the left and there were several dirt paddocks to the right. Beyond, in the distance, she could see a farmhouse with a faint light in one of its windows.
Halting the trailer in front of a stable building, she took a deep breath and stepped out of the cab. Without stopping to let herself think, she went back and checked on Sabbath. To her relief, he seemed content. His head was down and one of his back feet was turned up, resting on the tip of its hoof. He looked like he was asleep. A.J. checked his water, the fastenings on his halter and the lead that was anchored on the front of his stall. She didn’t like the idea of leaving him unattended but she knew she wasn’t going to be gone long. She was going to get one of two answers, and knowing Devlin McCloud, he wasn’t going to waste time letting her know which one it was.
She was about to step out of the side door when she paused, catching her reflection in the floor-length mirror the riders used to dress in front of at competitions. Her auburn hair was a frazzled mess. Her jeans carried dirt and hay on them, as if they’d never seen the inside of a washing machine, and the flannel shirt she wore was an untucked, floppy wreck. Her barn jacket didn’t help, looking like a big tan bag billowing around her.
She looked like a charity case. Something, she supposed, that wasn’t far from the truth.
But she didn’t want Devlin McCloud to see her like this. In all those fantasies she’d whipped up, she’d always looked halfway decent when they’d accidentally run into each other. In her daydreams, he’d had half a chance to see her as a woman, not just a stable hand, and, in her heart, for whatever asinine reason, she wanted him to find her beautiful. To see her as an object of mystery and desire. For her to be someone he wanted to touch and kiss and dive into with his body.
A.J. struck an alluring pose in the mirror, pouting her lips and leaning on one hip.
As if.
Trying not to feel defeated, she reached up and pulled her hair together, smoothing wayward wisps. Her hands brushed free as much debris as would let go of her pants and then she tucked in the shirt. Scrubbing off a smudge from her cheek, she took one last look at herself, thinking she’d be lucky if the man didn’t call the cops to haul her away.
Stepping out of the trailer, she took a deep breath, drawing in a heavenly scent of grass and soil. It was a crisp fall night, not too cold, and majestically clear. As she walked toward the white farmhouse, she looked up and saw the vast stretch of the Milky Way above her, waves of stars shimmering in a dark velvet sea.
When the heels of her leather boots hit a flagstone walkway, she slowed down, trying to approach the house as quietly as she could. It was a two-story antique home with cozy lines and a lot of four-pane windows in the front. The roof was black and pitched at soft angles, with several chimneys breaking through its peaks and valleys. Stretching out from the rear of the house was another wing, behind which there was a garden.
It had to be the original farmstead, A.J. marveled, noting that someone had taken great care to keep the place up. The house, like the rest of the stable grounds, was in meticulous condition, gleaming with fresh paint and the close attention of its owner.
Arriving at the front door, she saw no doorbell or door knocker. Trying not to take it as a sign, she rapped her knuckles on glossy wood. There was a long silence and then she heard an uneven footfall inside.
As the steps got closer, the enormity of everything she’d done broadsided her with terrible clarity. She’d blown her savings on an undisciplined horse, left her stables and her family and was about to throw herself on the mercy of a man who was widely known for having little for himself. And less for others.
When Devlin McCloud opened the door, A.J. felt his presence as a physical blow. The impact of seeing him again was something she wasn’t prepared for, daydreams to the contrary, and meeting his eyes was like getting pulled into a whirlpool and wanting to drown. Those hazel eyes alone would have been enough of a shock but then she noticed he was wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and nothing else.
It was impossible not to look.
Moonlight hit his chest and arms with a caress that further defined the muscles under his smooth skin. His body was sculpted and powerful, a perfect example of man in his prime, from his imposing shoulders to his rippled stomach to the hint of his hip bones showing over the waistband of his pajamas. Mouth going dry, A.J. had to wonder what the lower half of him looked like.
She felt his eyes pass over her and, when she looked up, she saw
something flicker in their depths, some kind of reaction that he hid quickly. She thought for sure he’d noticed how flushed she was becoming and fought the urge to put her hands up to her cheeks. She decided he was probably annoyed with her ogling his body, and was searching for something intelligent to say, when he spoke first.
“I knew this wasn’t someone selling Girl Scout cookies but you are a surprise.”
Wait until you see what I have in the trailer, she thought.
Before she lost her nerve, she blurted out, “I need your help.”
Instantly, his face grew tight. “I gave you my answer this afternoon. And as much as I appreciate your tenacity, I’m not going to reprise the conversation. Especially standing in this doorway, in the middle of the night, wearing only my pajamas.”
She had a passing thought that he really didn’t have to remind her he was half-naked. “But I—”
“I’m not going to train you. Now, go back to Sutherland Stables and resume the high life. I need to get some sleep.”
He turned to go.
“I can’t.”
Her soft words stopped him and he looked back at her. “What do you mean, you can’t?”
“I’m no longer affiliated with Sutherland Stables.”
His brows came down over those hazel eyes. “You renounce your birthright or something?”
“Essentially.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Let’s just say management and I had a falling-out.”
“Over Sabbath.”
“Looks like he and I are both orphans now.”
He let out a frustrated breath. “And where do you think I fit in? I’m not exactly the Mother Superior type. I don’t run a safe haven for wayward children and their pets.”
“But I need a place to train and board him.”
“I’m not a trainer and I don’t board.”
“I can pay you.”
A.J. wasn’t sure with what, but now wasn’t the time to get bogged down in particulars.
“I don’t doubt that,” he said wryly.
“Look, at least let him stay the night.”
“That animal is still in the trailer?”
“Yes, but—”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“I didn’t plan for this to happen.”
“That’s obvious,” he said, turning away. “I’ll bet you don’t plan for much.”
“That’s not true!”
At least broadly, A.J. thought, deciding that the night hadn’t exactly been a masterpiece of rational thinking.
“Where are you going?” she called out.
“I’m not interested in the little drama between you and your family,” he said over his shoulder. “But I’ll be damned if I’m going to stand by and have an animal pay the price for human theatrics.”
He disappeared into the house, leaving A.J. speechless on the front stoop. Numbly, she noted that the back of him looked as good as the front did.
She wanted to argue with him. However her actions might appear, she would never compromise a horse’s safety or security, but she didn’t feel as if she could afford the luxury of explaining herself. It appeared as if Sabbath had a stall for the night and she wasn’t going to put that in jeopardy just because she’d been misjudged.
Instead of waiting for him, she smothered a yawn and went back to the barn, wondering where she would spend the night. It certainly wasn’t going to be at the mansion. Approaching the trailer, she regarded the cab with a jaundiced eye, deciding that the space was probably roomy enough for her to stretch out. It wasn’t glamorous but at least she’d be horizontal.
Moving with the practiced coordination of someone who’d done it countless times, A.J. put down the ramp, freed Sabbath’s lead and backed him out of the trailer. He seemed perfectly content to have her take his head and she walked him around to stretch his legs as she waited for McCloud. The stallion was lipping at the ground happily when the man emerged from the house.
As he approached, she felt a stir go through her. It was hot and urgent, like a flash of lightning, and it seemed to her as if her body were communicating in some secret language with his. While she pushed the sensation away and focused on the lead line in her hands, she wondered if he felt it, too.
Silently, he went past her and unlocked the double doors of the stable. They slid back soundlessly on well-oiled runners and he reached in and flipped on the lights. Peeking inside, she saw six generous stalls, three on each side, separated by a spacious aisle. To the left, she could see the tack room, and to the right, a small office. The place was immaculate and had everything a horse and rider would need, but the moment she led Sabbath inside, she noticed something was wrong.
The silence of the place was overwhelming. All of the chatty background noise she was used to hearing around horses was absent. There were no stomping of hooves, no welcoming whinnies of curiosity, no sound of brass on brass as halters were shaken. The place was a ghost town.
Her heart ached for him.
“You can put him in here,” Devlin said, sliding open the gate to one of the first stalls.
She led the stallion inside and removed his halter, noting that there was fresh dirt on the floor but no water or feed.
“I’ve got some hay in the trailer,” she said, going out into the aisle, “and if you show me where the hose is—”
“I have an automatic watering system,” he replied, shutting the bottom half of the door. “But you’re going to want to bring in some feed.”
She headed outside.
When A.J. returned, she saw Devlin and Sabbath measuring up each other like two boxers in a ring. The stallion’s head was out of the stall and he was fiercely meeting the eyes of the man who stood, still as a statue, inches away. She slowed down, waiting to see what was going to happen.
Sabbath snorted against the jacket Devlin was wearing and stomped a hoof. Concerned he was going to bite, A.J. rushed forward, only to be halted by the sound of Devlin’s voice.
“Stay back,” he said. “This is between him and me.”
Feeling at a loss, she did as she was told.
The stallion breathed in a barrelful of air and threw it at Devlin. The man remained standing, his cane cocked at an angle as he braced himself against the force that hit him. Like his body, his eyes were steady, never wavering, even as Sabbath kicked the side of the stall and threw back his head, letting out a roar.
A.J. dropped the hay and ran ahead, only to stop in surprise. After the fuss was over, the stallion’s ears relaxed and he pulled back into the stall on his own.
“Round one is a tie,” Devlin said, a smile playing behind the straight lines of his lips. “And that’s one hell of a horse.”
A.J. found herself returning his grin as she tossed hay into the stall. Satisfied Sabbath was comfortable, she shut the top door and they walked back out into the night air.
“Thank you,” she said, pausing in front of the trailer.
He shrugged. “He’ll be comfortable for the night.”
“I appreciate it.”
“When will you be back tomorrow morning to pick him up?”
“Actually, do you mind if the rig takes up some of your driveway space tonight?”
“Of course not. But how are you going to get home?”
“I’m not going home.”
With that, A.J. wrenched open the driver’s-side door and crawled in, so tired she hurt.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m exhausted and, as you and just about everyone I’ve run into today has pointed out, not thinking all that clearly. If you don’t mind, I’m just going to spend the night here.”
“You can’t be serious.”
She shut the door and rolled onto her side, tucking an arm under her head. Abruptly, she found herself on the verge of tears.
A sharp rap sounded against the window.
A.J. put her other arm over her ear, trying to block out the noise. The last thing she wanted was
to cry in front of him.
The butt of the cane continued knocking.
Bolting upright, she cracked open the window. “What?”
“You can’t sleep out here.”
“As long as you keep making noise, you’re right about that.”
“You’re not sleeping out here.”
“Why? You can’t have big plans for this patch of dirt tonight.”
“It’s cold and I’m not in the habit of letting people freeze solid on my front lawn.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“Come inside.”
His voice was gentle, as if he knew she’d reached the end of her rope. Unfortunately, his concern just made her more upset.
“I’ll do just as well out here.” The words were choked and she fumbled with the window. Once it was up again, she lay down and put her arm back over her ear.
The rapping resumed.
“I’m ignoring you,” A.J. called out.
“And I’m not stopping until you come inside.”
“Your arm will give out before I do.”
“Don’t be so sure about that,” she heard him say.
It turned out Devlin was right.
A few minutes later, A.J. emerged from the cab. Tired and frustrated, she didn’t trust herself to say anything so she crossed her arms over her chest and stuck out her chin. Devlin led the way to the farmhouse.
3
THE CHILLY night air and a desire not to appear weak in front of him made her feel more in control by the time they got to his front door. Following him inside, A.J. found herself in a foyer with a staircase ahead and a kitchen beyond. To the left, a modest living room was furnished sparsely but glowed with the warmth of cherry paneling and some embers that were dying in an old stone fireplace. On the opposite side of the entrance hall was a dining room with an exquisite antique table in the center and a set of carved chairs pressed in tight around its flanks.
Throughout the rooms, oriental rugs covered wide oak planks, and the ceilings, lofty and creamy white, provided fair skies. Everywhere she turned, there were banks of windows stretching from the floor to above her head and she knew light would flood into the rooms during the day. With spectacular views and antique details, it was a gorgeous house but there was something sterile about it. She noticed that there were no family pictures, no snapshots of friends, no random trinkets from vacations. And where were all of his trophies and medals?
