The Horse Trainer's Secret

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  His eyebrows rose. “Did I ever say that?”

  “Well, no, but—” She tried handing the crust back to him. “Here. I don’t want yours. I’m satisfied with my own.”

  “Maybe you don’t want ’em but maybe I’m satisfied watching you enjoy something from me.”

  She felt her face flush and wished that she was anywhere other than where she was.

  She shoved back her chair. “I gotta go.”

  “Megan—” Nick caught her hand. “Relax. It’s just a pizza crust.”

  But it wasn’t. Not to her. “It’s fine,” she lied. “See?” She snatched up the crust and shoved half of it in her mouth. “I just, uh, realized how late it’s getting.” She chewed rapidly around her words. It was hardly polite but she was running on a thin edge of nerves. She managed to swallow the mouthful. “It’s Birdie’s birthday and I should have called her by now.” The birthday part was true. Needing to call her wasn’t, because Megan had done so when she’d gotten up that morning.

  “I’ll stop by later.”

  “No need. I know you’ve still got stuff to do this afternoon to get ready for tomorrow’s big library unveiling. I’ll see you there tomorrow!” She smiled as she backed away from the table, and Nick’s family.

  The fact that she felt as comfortable with all of them as she did with Rory and Killy was enough to send her toppling off that thin edge.

  She bumped a chair behind her and hastily apologized to the middle-aged woman occupying it before she made it out the restaurant door and onto the sidewalk.

  That’s when she realized her truck was still parked at the library.

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she muttered.

  It wasn’t as though the library was miles and miles away. Nothing in Weaver was miles and miles away.

  But as an exit strategy, she hadn’t thought it out very well.

  Can’t go forward without taking a first step, missy.

  She didn’t need Birdie-isms in her head, either.

  She blew out a breath and started walking.

  * * *

  He should have gone after her. Right then and there. Not let her run away, whether or not she needed to call her grandmother.

  Instead, he’d sat around on his ass at Ruby’s because J.D. had advised him to give Megan some space. Some time.

  Nick was sick of space. Sick of time.

  He’d been giving her both since March and his patience was wearing thin.

  It didn’t help knowing that the stables up on the mountain were going to be done before their expected completion date.

  Megan would have the perfect excuse to run back to Angel River no matter what was happening between the two of them.

  He went by the library first, but her truck was already gone. And then, when he finally made it through the damn traffic clogging the small-town road and arrived at the Cozy Night, her truck wasn’t there, either.

  He wasn’t going to think the worst.

  Not yet.

  Most of her work on the mountain might be nearly complete, but she still had horses to procure and get settled.

  No matter how freaked out Megan was about Nick, she wouldn’t run out on an opportunity to give more horses a home on the mountain.

  The reasoning was sound enough. But the knot in his gut meant he wasn’t convinced.

  He parked next to the two Harleys taking up the spots in front of Megan’s room and got out.

  The dull brown curtains didn’t quite stretch all the way across the window of her room, and he tried looking through the inch that was left uncovered.

  Just to reassure himself that her stuff was still in there.

  But no matter which way he tried angling his view, all he could see was the damn window frame or the air-conditioning unit below the window that was rattling and wheezing out hot air against him.

  “Are you a Peeping Tom now?”

  He jerked around to find Megan, and his relief was so massive it made him mad. “Took you long enough!”

  “I needed some space, okay?” She stepped past him to stick her key in the door lock. “I have...things I need to work out in my head.”

  “Your head or your heart?”

  “You’re making the mistake of thinking I have a normal sort of heart.”

  He barely squelched a snort, realizing she actually believed that. “There’s nothing wrong with your heart, Megan.”

  “Really? You wouldn’t say that if you knew—” She broke off and pushed open the door to step inside, but when he tried to follow, she turned and blocked the way.

  One hand on the door. One hand on the doorjamb.

  He looked from her white knuckles to her face.

  “If I knew what, sweetheart?”

  Her chin set. “I’m not your sweetheart! I don’t need you...analyzing me or thinking you know me better than I know myself. And I don’t need your pizza crusts!” Her voice shook.

  The door next to Megan’s slammed open and an old man in biker gear stuck out his head. “Everything all right over there? You okay, Meggie? This guy’s not bothering you, is he?”

  Nick eyed Megan.

  Megan, however, was eyeing anything but Nick. “I’m fine, Oscar.”

  The guy gave Nick the stink eye before withdrawing back into his room.

  “Meggie?”

  Her gaze finally flicked toward his and then away again. Her lips were a thin line. “Nicky?” Then she huffed noisily and lowered her arms, turning her back on him.

  He stepped inside the room after her and shut the door.

  She was holding her hair back from her head and it reached halfway down the back of her swirly-colored shirt. “You know I’m older than you?” she suddenly asked. Her voice had steadied again, but she still had a panicky look in her eyes.

  He shook his head, trying to follow her unexpected question. “What?”

  She dropped her hands and turned. “I am older—” she pointed to herself and spoke slowly, as if he had suddenly lost his grasp on the English language “—than you.”

  He captured her finger. “Who the hell cares about a couple of years? Or even if it were a dozen years? You’re not seriously picking a fight over that.”

  She pulled away her hand and paced around the bed. “I’m not picking a fight. I’m pointing out a fact.”

  “Here’s a fact.” He followed her. “You heard what J.D. said and you freaked out. You don’t want to face what’s really going on here. What’s going on between us.”

  “There’s nothing going on between us except some—” She broke off and moistened her lips. “Some good sex.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Good?”

  “Okay.” Her eyes wouldn’t meet his. “Very good. Exceptional, maybe. Feel better?”

  “I’d feel better when you stop reducing this—” he swept his hand through the air between them “—to some phenomenal sex.”

  She folded her arms and studied the short, neat nails on her left hand. “I said exceptional. Not phenomenal.”

  If he wasn’t so aggravated with her sheer stubbornness, he would have laughed.

  Patience, Nick.

  He propped his hands on his hips rather than reach for her and kiss some sense into her.

  It took him longer than a simple count of ten to conquer the idea.

  “I am in love with you,” he finally said, and his flat statement could probably be heard through the thin walls by Oscar. “And you—” he raised his voice over her loud snort “—are falling for me. Things would be a lot easier if you’d just admit it.”

  Her cheeks were pale, but her eyes were hot. “Forrester women don’t fall for men.”

  “You fall for women, then? ’Cause I gotta tell you, sweetheart, you seem to like what I have to offer pretty well.”

  She looked like
she wanted to slug him and right then he just might have welcomed it.

  At least it would be an honest reaction, versus the bull she was trying to peddle.

  But her fists uncurled after a moment and she folded her arms again, probably not even realizing how vulnerable she looked doing it.

  “You’re not in love with me,” she said with a sudden calmness that infuriated him. It was the voice she used when she was working with that scrawny pony out at Crossing West. “You’re confusing good—okay, great—sex with love.”

  “Being the immature younger man that I am, right?” he drawled. He shook his head. “That’s the biggest load of crap outside of J.D.’s manure pile. I’m twenty-nine, Megan. Not nineteen. I’ve had great sex with other women and managed not to confuse the two. I—” he slapped his chest, returning the favor of speaking slowly, exaggeratedly “—am in love with you.”

  Her jaw worked and she looked over his shoulder. At the bed. At the ceiling. “I came here for a couple months, Nick. That’s it.” Her tone sounded a little less calm. “I have a life and a home in Angel River that I can’t wait to get back to. Don’t blame me if you’re making more out of this little fling than I am.”

  Little fling. Just sex.

  If he believed either was true, he’d chalk it up to experience and offer to fill her gas tank for her drive back to Angel River.

  Instead, he hung his head and counted to ten. Again.

  “Sweetheart,” he finally said, “you are a rotten liar.”

  Her lips twisted. “Let’s just...cut our losses here before—”

  “Before what? Before you finally give up this pretense you’ve got going that you don’t need anyone? That you don’t want the same things everyone wants?”

  “What? Wedding rings and a white picket fence?”

  He spread his hands. “What’ve you got against that?” He held out his palm. “And don’t tell me it’s not in the Forrester DNA.”

  Her little cell phone sitting on the nightstand let out a soft bleep and she snatched it up. “Hello?”

  “Now you answer your phone.”

  She crossed the room and yanked open the door. “Hi, Birdie! How’s your birthday going?”

  She laughed merrily at whatever her grandmother said, but she was glaring at Nick. She swept her hand pointedly out the doorway.

  “No,” she said into the phone. “I’m not doing anything important at all.”

  “And don’t say you don’t have the heart,” he told her softly as he stepped past her. “I know better, Megan.”

  Then he nudged her shaking hand aside and pulled the door closed after him as he left the room.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Okay, what’s going on? Why’d you call me Birdie?”

  Megan’s shaking knees gave out and she collapsed on the bed. “Sorry, Rory. H-how are you?”

  “A little worried that you’ve had a stroke!”

  “No. Just—just trying to get rid of s-someone a-at my d-door.” She sucked in a shuddering breath.

  “Cripes on a cracker. Are you crying?”

  Megan swiped her face. “No. Yes. Oh, hell.”

  “I’m coming over,” Rory said flatly.

  “Oh, sure,” Megan scoffed. “S-see you at t-ten tonight.”

  “More like ten minutes. We’re in Weaver. I left you a message two days ago that we were coming to town today! Gage is finally going to meet Vivian this weekend. We’re at Colbys right now with April and Jed Dalloway. Just tell me where you’re staying.”

  Megan told her.

  She even managed to hold it more or less together until she heard a knock on her door.

  She whipped it open and saw Rory there. And promptly burst into tears.

  Rory swore and wrapped her arms around her. “Hey, come on. I know Birdie’s okay. I talked to her this morning when I called to wish her happy bir—” She suddenly pulled back and held Megan an arm’s length away from her. “Oh. My. God. Are you pregnant?”

  Megan cried even harder. She sank down on the foot of the bed—the bed, site of the activity that had altered her life—and buried her face in her hands.

  Rory sat beside her, rubbing her back with one hand and covering her twisted hands with her other. “How’d this happen?”

  Megan lifted her head and swiped the moisture from her cheeks again. “The usual way. Boy meets girl. Girl meets boy. Stuff happens and—” she pinched her eyes shut to stave off another wave of tears “—voila. You ought to know how it works by now.”

  “How far along are you?”

  Megan stood and pulled her blouse flat against her belly, showing off the distinct bump. “Seventeen weeks.” She could see the shock in Rory’s eyes, and she threw herself down on the other bed, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s Nick’s.”

  “Nick,” Rory repeated slowly. “Wait. Nick Ventura? Gage’s architect?”

  “None other.” Megan tried for flippancy and failed. Tears kept leaking from the corners of her eyes. It was like a water main had broken.

  “What’s he doing?” Rory stood, looking fierce. “Trying to pretend he’s not responsible?” She propped her hands on her hips. “We’ll see about that!”

  “He doesn’t know,” Megan said wearily. “I haven’t told him.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he’s going to think he’s got to do something about it!”

  “Is that so bad?”

  “I don’t want him feeling responsible for me!”

  “Well, honey. He’s responsible for that baby inside you.”

  “Like Jon acted responsible when he left you pregnant even knowing about Killy?” She felt terrible the second she said it. “I’m sorry.” She sat up and caught Rory’s hand. “I am such a bitch.”

  “No you’re not,” Rory said with a sigh. “But if I can get over my ex-husband leaving me flat the way he did, I think it’s safe to say that you should be able to get over it, too.”

  “You’re over it because you fell in love with Gage Stanton.”

  “I’m over it because I had you by my side all that while! You and Dad and everyone at Angel River. Gage is—” Rory flopped her hands.

  “What? Icing on the cake?”

  “No. He is the cake. This—” she pressed her hand to her belly “—is the icing.” She sat down on the second bed opposite Megan, still shaking her head with obvious shock. “I can’t believe you’re pregnant. That we’re actually pregnant together!” Her eyes were searching. “What are you going to do? Does Birdie know?”

  “Nobody knows but you. Well, you and the Wymon Women’s Clinic. And Dr. Ambrose over in Braden.”

  “You’re not exactly going to be able to keep it under wraps, you know. I mean, as soon as I hugged you, I could tell.”

  “The baby just popped out today,” Megan muttered and told Rory about her mad chase that morning to find some clothes that fit. “Until now, you couldn’t even tell a thing. Not even the other night when Nick stayed—” She broke off at the look on her friend’s face.

  “When Nick stayed...?” Rory stood. “Are you involved with him? Like...actually involved? You, queen of the one-night stands?”

  “I can count on one hand the number of those one-night stands,” Megan said flatly. “Just because I don’t get involved, doesn’t mean I’m a strumpet.”

  Rory pressed her lips together. But the sudden twinkle in her eye wouldn’t be denied. “Strumpet? Are you going to hate me forever if I tell you how much you sounded like Birdie just now?” She sat down beside Megan. “Of course you’re not. And you’re the one who’s always claimed that men only had one good use. Your words, girlfriend, not mine.”

  Knowing it was true didn’t make it any easier to swallow. “I’m not involved with Nick.”

  “Well, let’s see.” Rory held up her hand. “You got here
less than two months ago so obviously you cooked up that little bun in your oven when you were here back in March.” She held up one finger. “Now you’re here again, working with the guy—” She paused. “I bet that was quite the little surprise.”

  Megan grimaced. “I can’t even tell you.”

  “Yeah,” Rory said tartly. “You didn’t tell me, which I’m going to make you pay for somewhere down the line.” She held up a second finger. “So you’ve been working with him for weeks now on the barn design, and by the way, Gage and I drove up there earlier today and it’s fantastic, and now—” she held up a third finger “—it seems he’s perhaps stayed the night with you? More than once?”

  Megan made a face and didn’t answer.

  Another finger popped up. Rory raised her eyebrows. And still Megan didn’t respond. Another finger. And another.

  “Fine,” Megan said, flopping her arms. “We’ve been sleeping together for—for a while.”

  “And yet you say you’re not involved.” Rory made a soft sound. “Hmm. Very interesting.”

  Megan glared. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself so much.”

  Rory smiled gently. “Oh, Megan. I love you to pieces. It’s just so refreshing to know you’re finally letting yourself be human like the rest of us.” She gave a huge sigh. “So does Nick think he’s involved with you?”

  Megan pressed her lips together. She pushed off the bedside and went to the window unit, poking at the buttons for the air conditioner, which were about as useless as the buttons for the heat. “He gives me his pizza crusts,” she grumbled.

  “Oh, dear god, what a fiend.”

  Megan grimaced. “He claims he’s in love with me.” She shot a look at Rory when she made a gleeful sound.

  Her friend had clapped her hand over her mouth.

  “Get control of yourself.”

  Rory’s eyes were dancing. “Sorry.” Though she clearly wasn’t. “Are you in love with him?”

  “How can I be in love?” Just saying the words made her hot and itchy. “I’ve only known the man a matter of months.”

  “Do you doubt that Gage and I are really in love with each other? Good grief, you’ve known Nick twice as long as I knew Gage when I ran after him to Denver.”