The Horseman's Convenient Wife

by Mindy Neff

  ‘‘For how long?’’

  She shrugged. ‘‘For a while, at least. There’s no telling how long it’ll take Aunt Lottie to get over her stress….’’ She laughed and touched his arm. ‘‘I understand that look. And believe me, I was as surprised as you when she told me the story about the curtains and the need for time off because of it. In any case, you’ll be getting a great deal. I love kids and I’m an excellent cook.’’

  He shouldn’t even be considering this. He’d had someone more matronly in mind for the job. But so far none of the older women in town had responded to his plea for help—and he hadn’t dared ask any of the single women new to town that Ozzie and his friends had rounded up with their crazy marriage campaign.

  He wasn’t stepping into that trap.

  ‘‘Where are you staying?’’

  She frowned. ‘‘I thought…well, um, here, of course.’’

  He didn’t see that there was any ‘‘of course’’ about it. He only needed help during the day. The evenings he could handle himself.

  Aside from the fact that having a beautiful woman live with him would drive him to distraction, Nikki was young and impressionable. Clearly, Eden Williams was a woman who would be easy to fall in love with. And Nikki fell in love easily. To form an attachment, only to have Eden leave, would be hard on her.

  And Stony didn’t kid himself that she would stay. Beautiful women didn’t. Unless they were paid handsomely or were offered something valuable in return. And even then there were no guarantees.

  He turned his head slightly to the right, a subconscious gesture to shield the flawed part of his face.

  ‘‘I hadn’t planned to hire someone full-time or permanent.’’ Especially a beautiful young woman with pale skin and green eyes and a body that made him yearn. ‘‘I’d heard the Widows Bagley were renting out rooms in town.’’

  ‘‘Oh, no. I need to stay here….I mean, it’ll be much more convenient. Lottie and Ray had a room, didn’t they?’’ There was desperation in her tone and a slight tremble in her fingers as she clasped them together in front of her.

  His protective instincts reared again, and he tried like crazy to ignore them. ‘‘They had a room. But it’s just Nikki and me in the house.’’

  ‘‘And isn’t that why you need me?’’

  He had a sinking feeling he could come to need her too much. And in a much different way. ‘‘I meant that it might not look proper—you being so young and all.’’

  Her laughter startled a magpie off the fence post and held Stony spellbound for several seconds. The drum of hooves as one of the handlers put a horse through its paces faded into the background.

  ‘‘I’m thirty-four, Stony. Hardly a young maiden in need of a chaperone.’’

  Those killer dimples might well get the better of him. As it was, his judgment was skewed. That was the only explanation he could come up with when he found himself looking toward her flashy convertible, asking her if she had luggage, inviting her inside. Sometimes he wondered if he was a throwback to another era. He didn’t think or operate in the free-and-easy, casual way that most of his friends did.

  Eden followed Stony around the back of the house and in through the kitchen door. Apparently, he was used to entering this way—not suggesting she use the back door like the help. She smiled to herself and imagined he’d be horrified if she made mention of it, even in jest.

  Lottie had told her quite a bit about Stony Stratton. A giant, Gentle Ben type, she’d said, who speaks softly to women and children, leaving melted hearts in his wake—and he never even recognized it. A tough, six-foot-five cowboy with a fierce frown and a heart as big as Texas.

  And Eden was counting on that big heart. She was on a mission, and the clock was ticking.

  Stony Stratton was her hope.

  She felt the familiar lethargy pull at her and pressed a hand to her stomach. Not yet, she prayed.Please, just give me a week to settle in.

  Her weariness abated somewhat when she got a look at the kitchen. A chef would be in hog heaven for sure. It had to be twenty by twenty in size, with a work station in the center, cabinets galore painted glossy white with crystal knobs, a restaurant-grade stove and sparkling, rich granite countertops. The room was clean and straight except for a step stool pushed up against the refrigerator and an open pantry door.

  ‘‘Oh, my.’’ Her reverent tone drew Stony’s gaze. His eyes softened and smiled, but his lips didn’t follow. That was okay. Lottie had warned Eden about his solemn countenance, but hadn’t gone into detail about what might have made him that way.

  ‘‘Lottie supervised a remodeling project a few years back.’’

  ‘‘I know. Since I cook for a living, she consulted me on a couple of things. I feel as though I’m getting reacquainted with an old friend.’’ She ran a hand over the mirror-smooth granite and smiled softly when a little girl’s delighted giggle rang out. Following the sound, she peeked behind the open pantry door where Nikki was hiding.

  Eden’s smile turned to a grin. Nikki was giving the black Irish setter a lick of her frozen juice bar.

  She glanced at Stony. ‘‘Guess we know what Nikki and Rosie were whispering about outside.’’ She didn’t imagine this was what he’d had in mind when he’d asked his daughter to feed the dog.

  ‘‘Look, Daddy! She likes it.’’

  ‘‘So I see,’’ Stony said, his tone easy and even. ‘‘Remember that she doesn’t do well with too many sweets.’’ For Eden’s benefit he added, ‘‘There was an incident a while back with the contents of the sugar bowl at Nikki’s pretend tea party. It got messy.’’

  ‘‘Yeah, Rosie barfed, and Lottie wouldn’t clean it up.’’

  ‘‘I’m sure Rosie didn’t mean to barf,’’ Eden said, and Nikki went into a gale of giggles, pulling her hand back to have a lick of sticky red ice that dripped down her little arm.

  The sound of a happy child wrapped itself around Eden’s heart and squeezed. Unbidden, a lump formed in her throat.

  She turned to Stony, startled to find him watching her. Quietly. Easily. Steadily. A funny tickle shivered through her stomach, and she wasn’t sure if it was nerves or attraction. A little of both, she suspected.

  He was overwhelmingly big, yet she didn’t feel threatened. Excited, yes, and scared, but of her own feelings, not of him.

  Eden broke eye contact first. Clearing her throat, she tugged at her top. ‘‘Well…’’

  He nodded as though acknowledging her nervousness. ‘‘I’ll show you Lottie and Ray’s room.’’ Picking up her suitcase, he exited the kitchen by way of the service porch. A glance over his shoulder at Rosie had the dog’s ears drooping and with a final longing look at the ice pop, she lay down and rested her muzzle on her front paws.

  Eden was impressed. Watching the dog instead of where she was going, she slammed into Stony’s back when he stopped at the threshold of a suite of rooms off the kitchen.

  ‘‘Steady,’’ he said.

  ‘‘Yes…well.’’ She couldn’t recall ever being so tongue-tied around a man. ‘‘Were you and Rosie communicating telepathically?’’

  ‘‘No need. She knows what’s allowed and what’s not.’’

  He set her suitcase on the bed, then turned around, those amber eyes focusing on hers with an intensity she was coming to expect. It was as though he saw inside her, and that unnerved her even more.

  She wasn’t ready for him to see her flaws—or her quiet desperation.

  ‘‘You’re tired.’’ He raised his hand, as though he intended to touch her face, then let it drop as he stepped back. ‘‘Rest awhile, settle in, then we’ll talk about the terms of employment—salary and such.’’

  With an economy of moves, he left the room, his boot heels barely making a sound against the hardwood floor, which was surprising given his size.

  When he was gone, she lowered herself to the bed, momentarily giving in to the lack of energy, feeling a twinge of the cramping that had become all too familiar.<
br />
  She would rest for just a few minutes, she promised herself as she closed her eyes, holding the edge of the bedspread in her hands.

  Stony Stratton was everything Aunt Lottie had said he’d be…and more.

  He didn’t have the smooth, pretty-boy looks of a male print model, but he had something even better. He had presence, a masculinity that radiated from him in sensual waves. A quiet reverence and inner spirit that spoke loud and clear, even when he didn’t.

  He was a man who would care. And care deeply.

  She vowed to be very careful with his heart.

  The urge to rush was almost overwhelming. But she cautioned herself to slow down, give him a chance to warm up to her before she told him her real reason for coming.

  The reason Aunt Lottie had invented that cockamamy story so she could leave.

  Chapter Two

  Instead of a quick nap, Eden slept through the night. When she woke, she was still dressed in her jeans and snug blue T-shirt, but her shoes were off and she was all the way in the bed, covered with a crisp cotton sheet and a soft chenille bedspread.

  Her heart bumped against her rib cage as a wave of confusion and embarrassment washed through her. She remembered sitting on the bed, lying back, her feet still on the floor. And now…

  ‘‘Oh, my gosh.’’ She leaped up, felt light-headed and took a moment to clear the flash of white dots dancing in her vision like Fourth of July sparklers. This was not the way to start a new job.

  Horrified, forming apologies in her mind, she quickly changed and brushed her teeth, then poured out a handful of vitamins and iron tablets, made her way to the kitchen and downed them with a glass of orange juice. Grabbing a piece of raisin bread out of the bread box, she went out the kitchen door in search of Stony.

  She saw him leaning against the paddock fence and she nearly stumbled. He was a very, very fine specimen of the male form.

  As she approached, he held out a hand, nearly brushing her abdomen, yet he never took his eyes off the beautiful stallion in the fenced pen. She understood his gesture and stopped beside him, stood quietly and waited.

  And while he kept his gaze focused on the magnificent animal, Eden was riveted by the magnificent man. A pair of leather chaps hugged his legs, buckled low on his hips and tied at the tops of his thighs. An oversize silver buckle decorated his belt, drawing her attention to the area of his dark jeans framed by the sexy protective gear.

  She told herself she shouldn’t dwell there, yet her eyes seemed to have a will of their own for several long breathtaking seconds. With great effort she dragged her gaze upward to the white shirt that stretched across his wide shoulders. He wore a brown bandanna tied around his neck and the ever-present white hat that added a good six inches to his already-impressive six-and-a-half-foot frame.

  Eden considered herself above average in height, but next to Stony she felt positively puny.

  And very feminine.

  ‘‘See the ears?’’ He spoke softly, his voice deep and even. ‘‘One’s forward and the other’s back. He’s interested in us, but he’s wary, too.’’

  ‘‘How do you know?’’ Eden’s voice, too, was quiet—a little like whispering in the library.

  ‘‘Horses communicate. If you watch them, listen, pay attention, they’ll talk to you. See there?’’ He gave a nod that barely tipped his hat, but he didn’t point or make any sudden moves other than to turn slightly toward her. ‘‘His ears are flicking back and forth, and his nostrils are blowing. He’s asking us what’s going on. Why is he here, what do we want, what’s the drill?’’

  She felt the warmth radiating from Stony’s chest and nearly became sidetracked. He’d bent subtly toward her—an unconscious habit of a big man—so that his lips were close to her head, his breath stirring the hair at her temple.

  ‘‘He’s a beautiful horse,’’ she said. ‘‘Not one of yours, though?’’

  ‘‘Owner had him trucked in last night. Seems he’s developed a nasty habit of biting, and he spooks at the slightest sound.’’

  ‘‘And they’re hiring you to cure him of it?’’

  He tipped his head, shifted, and their shoulders brushed. She drew in a breath and felt his gaze on her now. She looked up into whiskey-colored eyes that watched rather than stared.

  The size of him, his quiet assurance, had a way of wrapping a woman in a cocoon of safety.

  Her gaze shifted to the scar that sliced through his brow and along the outer rim of his eye, and she felt him withdraw. He was self-conscious, she realized. Yet why would he be? Did he think it diminished him in some way? She wondered if he’d been injured by a horse, but knew enough not to press. They were still at the ‘‘getting used to each other’’ stage.

  And as much as she would like to rush the process, her goal was too important to risk. She had to have patience.

  ‘‘What’s his name?’’

  He glanced back at the horse. ‘‘Fox-Trot Dandy.’’

  ‘‘Dandy? Are you kidding? He looks much too macho to be called a dandy. Who’s the idiot who thought that up?’’

  He looked down at her, his eyes amused. ‘‘The idiot who owns Fox-Trot’s sire, I imagine. Tango Dandy’s a Triple Crown winner worth several million.’’

  ‘‘Well then, I guess the name hasn’t dented their egos any.’’ She flicked her hair behind her ear, gaining a whole new perspective and respect for the sleek, beautiful animals—and for Stony Stratton. There was an absolute fortune on this ranch. ‘‘So, if this big guy’s gotten so jumpy, why aren’t our voices and movements spooking him?’’

  ‘‘He knows we’re here. We haven’t startled him, just made him curious.’’

  ‘‘You can tell that by just looking at him?’’

  ‘‘Watching,’’ he corrected. ‘‘See there. He’s annoyed that we’re talking and not keeping him the center of attention.’’

  ‘‘Mmm. Typical male.’’ Her heart leaped when he gave her another of those indulgent looks where his eyes softened. Too bad his mouth didn’t curve to match. If he’d cut loose and smile, the man would be positively lethal to the opposite sex. ‘‘So what can you tell about this one?’’

  He turned back to the stallion. ‘‘He’s cocky and proud, but he doesn’t strike me as a crazy horse. He’s got an intelligent head, alert eyes. I’d say he’s looking for somebody he can trust, a handler who’ll let him offer cooperation rather than insist on it.’’

  She frowned. ‘‘Are you saying someone’s been cruel to him?’’

  ‘‘No. But something’s got him upset recently, and if we don’t get to the bottom of it, someone will likely end up getting hurt.’’ He spread the fingers on his hand and took a step forward.

  The stallion’s head jerked up, and he took off to the far corner of the pen. With a scream of rage, his ears pinned and he charged forward, heading straight for them, every vibrating, quivering muscle in his sleek, powerful body radiating anger and aggression.

  Eden gave a squeak of fright, grabbed a handful of Stony’s shirt and hid behind him, sure that they were both about to be trod into the dirt.

  Stony stood perfectly still.

  Snorting, hooves kicking up a cloud of dust, the stallion skidded to a halt mere feet from the wooden fence in front of them.

  Eden had no doubt that the powerful horse could have burst right through the fence if he’d chosen to. She peeked out from behind Stony’s broad shoulder, saw the horse toss his head, up and down, mane flying in the breeze.

  Frightened, yet awed, she watched as the stallion arrogantly looked down his nose, fixing his eyes on Stony, each taking the other’s measure. Danger sizzled in the air, as well as power.

  ‘‘I’m not backing down, buddy.’’ Stony’s words were delivered in a quiet, soothing tone, like a parent assuring a child who feared abandonment.

  Eden thought he surely ought to reconsider, but kept the opinion to herself.

  For several long seconds an eerie sort of communication seemed to ta
ke place between man and animal.

  Then the stallion jerked his head higher, one ear trained on Stony, and began to prance, all the while watching them. His movements were deliberate, aggressive, radiating pride and an arrogant taunt.

  Shivering, Eden unfisted the wad of shirt she’d been clutching and cautiously came out from behind the protection of Stony’s back. She didn’t even pretend to be embarrassed or coy over her cowardice. That horse had scared the daylights out of her, and she didn’t have a qualm in the world about admitting it.

  ‘‘He’s daring you to cross into his territory, isn’t he?’’

  Stony nodded. ‘‘He doesn’t know me or trust me. I expected as much. We’ll let him be for a while. I’ll come back and work with him a little later.’’

  ‘‘You’re going to go in the pen with him?’’ There was no way to keep the horror out of her tone.

  ‘‘That’s usually what it takes.’’

  ‘‘Are you crazy? He’s bigger than you. Won’t he bite you? Or trample you to death?’’

  His lips very nearly curved. ‘‘Hope not.’’

  He was so nonchalant. ‘‘Fine, then. It’s your funeral. I trust you have your insurance premiums paid up?’’

  He cocked a brow and dipped his head.

  ‘‘You can be awfully stingy with your words,’’ she muttered. ‘‘So how long have you been doing this sort of thing?’’

  ‘‘Since I was four.’’

  ‘‘You hauled yourself up on snapping stallions when you were four years old?’’

  ‘‘I think I steered clear of the snapping ones until I was at least six.’’

  She punched him playfully on the arm. ‘‘You’re making fun of me.’’

  He went still at that. Like a cloud passing over the sun, momentary astonishment changed to absolute seriousness. ‘‘No. I don’t make fun.’’

  She’d hit a nerve without realizing it.

  ‘‘Do you have fun?’’ she asked softly.

  ‘‘With Nikki around, a person has fun whether they want to or not.’’