Dalton

by Vivi Holt

  She sighed again and tucked her cell phone back in its sleeve. The man with the dog had moved on and so did she, falling right back into her regular jogging rhythm as music filled her earbuds again. She supposed she could do Jen this one favor. After all, her friend had always been there for her in the past – giving her a shoulder to cry on, a sympathetic ear during the hard times, cooking a comforting dinner when she knew Hazel had a bad day. If this was what Jen needed from her in return, she figured it wasn’t too much to ask.

  After all, how hard could it be?

  * * *

  When Hazel pulled up at Green Peach Ranch the following day and parked her convertible in the thick mud beside a set of immaculate stables, she knew immediately she was in trouble. She stepped from her car with a frown, her silver Steve Madden pumps sinking immediately into three inches of muck.

  A horse trailer hitched to an impressively large red Ford truck was backed up close to the stable. A man dressed in a faded blue-and-white-checked shirt and dungarees with a tan cowboy hat, greeted her with a tug of his hat brim. “How ya doin’?”

  “Fine, thank you,” she replied with a grimace. Every step she took, her heels got stuck in the mud, and she had to jerk them out before she could continue.

  “You Jennifer?” he asked, one hand on his hip, the other rubbing where a beard would be if he’d let it grow.

  “Actually, I’m filling in for Jennifer. I’m Hazel.” She stopped in front of him and thrust out a hand.

  He raised an eyebrow and shook her hand. “Okay, then. I’m Gus – pleased to meetcha. If Bill’s okay with it, then I’m okay with it. You can get your stuff and get in the truck if ya like. We’re ‘bout ready to head on out. I’ll just grab the filly and load her up.”

  “Great – nice to meet you,” she responded with more enthusiasm than she felt.

  Gus nodded in her direction, then strode into the stables.

  Hazel closed her eyes and took a deep breath. All she had to do was get into the truck, ride to south Georgia and wait for some stallion to do his thing. That was it. A cinch. She opened her eyes and trudged back through the mud to her car.

  Jen owed her. Big time.

  Chapter 3

  The country road stretched long and straight between cotton fields. White puffs held by green claws stretched as far as Hazel could see in every direction. Then the fields were gone, replaced by pastures – thick, green and lush.

  The truck slowed and she glanced at Gus, who’d chewed the end of a toothpick for the entire drive. He’d been silent for most of the trip, occasionally humming along to a favorite country song on the radio, one arm leaning on the edge of the open window, the other hand gripped the steering wheel. She’d tried to start a conversation with him several times, but after a few grunted responses, she took the hint and let him be. Even when they’d stopped for lunch at a Waffle House by the freeway, he’d barely spoken except to the waitress.

  He pulled to the side of the road slowly and carefully, then turned the truck neatly into a driveway. The gate looked new, constructed from bright raw timber. And a new wooden sign hung above it, reading “Cotton Tree Ranch” in clear black letters. Her gaze followed the path as it wound through green fields. The grass was cropped short on either side of the gravel drive, but only a few feet away it rose tall, swaying in the afternoon breeze.

  She lifted a hand to wipe the sweat from her forehead and pushed her sunglasses back up her nose. They kept sliding down in the heat, and no matter how many times she mentioned it, Gus had refused to raise his window and turn on the air conditioning.

  Now he looked across the bench seat at her, his eyebrows arched in expectation.

  “What?” she shrugged.

  He nodded toward the gate, and she rolled her eyes with a sigh. Of course – he was waiting for her to get out and open it for him.

  She pushed open the truck door and climbed cautiously down. Her pointed heels dug into the soft red earth, and she wobbled through the gravel and mud to swing the gate open. She caught a splinter from the raw timber in her finger and shoved it into her mouth with a curse. This day just kept getting better and better.

  As Gus drove through, she saw him smirk and shake his head, and felt a bolt of anger course through her veins. He was laughing at her – no doubt he had been all along. He didn’t think she was up to the task. Well, she might not know what she was doing, but she was good at faking it till she made it. She’d show him she could be every bit the country girl if she put her mind to it.

  As the trailer trundled past her, she saw the chestnut tail of the mare through the back of it and frowned. She’d just act confident and the horse would know she was the boss. That was how it worked – at least that’s how the Dog Whisperer seemed to do it. She’d accidentally watched the TV show once while channel-flipping and had gotten caught up in the drama. Of course, she’d never actually tried any of his techniques, but it all seemed straightforward enough.

  When they pulled up in front of the house, a man opened the screen door and wandered out to watch them park by the stables, his hands on his hips. She smiled and waved, and he nodded in response. He wore jeans, a green-and-white-striped button-down shirt and a tan cowboy hat, and he was in his stockinged feet. Muddy brown boots sat by the door, and she watched him pull them on as Gus parked.

  Her heart jittered and her head felt light. “You’ve got this, Hazel,” she whispered under her breath. “It’s just an animal, and he’s just a cowboy. You’ve made small talk with heads of state over cocktails and negotiated to play third-chair violin with the legendary head of the Atlanta Symphony. You can handle a cowboy and a horse.”

  She climbed out of the truck, stumbling on the uneven ground and almost twisting her ankle. As he rounded the front of the vehicle, she landed against the cowboy’s hard chest, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and neck. Her cheeks burned, she lifted her eyes to meet his – and time stood still.

  His eyebrows rose in surprise and he gently pried her free, setting her on her feet. “You okay?” he asked with a hint of a smile. His dimpled cheeks seemed to mock her.

  She smoothed her flyaway curls behind her ears, smiling with a confidence she didn’t feel. “Fine, thank you. I’m sorry about that – I’m afraid I didn’t select the most practical shoes when I left the house this morning.”

  He glanced down at her feet and pursed his lips. “I guess not.”

  She offered her hand. “Hazel Hildebrand.”

  “Dalton Williams – pleasure to meet you.” He shook her hand with a firm grip, then tipped back his hat. “So you’re the vet?”

  “Well, I’m … I’m here to keep the mare, um …”

  “Contessa’s Charity?”

  “Yes – I’m here to keep her company.”

  “Good to know.”

  Gus rounded the back of the trailer with the mare in tow. She looked remarkably calm after the long journey, her tail swishing around her hind legs. Her head bobbed as she walked and her eyes flitted around, taking in her new surroundings with seeming curiosity. “Howdy. Ya must be Mr. Williams. I’m Gus, and this here’s Contessa’s Charity – just Charity fer short. She’s stayin’ here for a bit, I understand.”

  Dalton grinned and shook Gus’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, Gus. Hey there, Charity.” He ran a hand lovingly down the mare’s forehead, tracing the long white blaze there.

  “Here ya go, then. I’ll just get the paperwork fer ya to sign and I’ll be on my way. Miss Hazel here’s gonna stay with Charity ‘til the deed’s done, then she’ll call me and I’ll come on back to collect her. Sound good?”

  Hazel marveled at how loquacious Gus was all of a sudden. He’d said more to Dalton Williams in one minute than he had to her in hours.

  “Sounds fine to me.” Dalton took the mare’s lead from Gus and watched as Gus foraged around in the truck cab for the contract.

  Hazel felt very out of place. She chewed on her cheek and folded her arms.

  Gus’s head emerge
d from the truck, his eyebrows arched. “Ya want yer bag?”

  She nodded and hurried around to the passenger side, dragging her wheeled luggage from the cabin. It thudded to the ground below and she pulled and tugged it across the lumpy ground. It was almost as bad a choice as the pumps, she realized – now that it was too late.

  Once finished with the contract, Gus waved goodbye, backed out of the yard, turned the truck and trailer around and headed down the long drive. Hazel watched him leave, her heart pounding. She wiped the sweat from her brow again and turned toward the rundown house with its cracked paint and rotting siding, and the ancient barn and adjoining stables. Finally, she looked at Dalton, who was talking quietly to the mare. Then his eyes met Hazel’s with a bemused expression.

  She smiled, her heart in her throat. What had she gotten herself into?

  * * *

  Dalton watched Hazel mince into the stable in her absurd city shoes. The building had a wide opening at one end, and its floor was coated in a thin layer of straw mixed with dirt. Stalls ran along both sides, some occupied but most empty. This time of year, he preferred to keep his stock out in the pasture.

  He turned and led Contessa’s Charity into a stall, then unclipped the lead from her halter. She immediately dropped her head to the pile of fresh hay he’d thrown in earlier and began munching away. He smiled – she already seemed at ease there. No thanks to her handler. He glanced over his shoulder at Hazel standing there awkwardly, her hands clasped in front of her skirt, her wide eyes gazing around the stable.

  Frowning, he turned back to the mare and backed out of the stall, snapping a rope into place to keep her there. She was a good-looking animal, with a shiny coat and finely shaped head. A decent height as well. With a mare like her, his new bay stallion Rocket Peak would sire a fine foal.

  “So how long do you think it will take? You know, to …”

  “Have her covered?” he finished, wiggling his eyebrows.

  “Um … yes.” She flushed pink and chewed nervously on the side of her mouth.

  “Well, I don’t know. I’m going to bring Rocket Peak into the next stall in the morning so they can get acquainted. Then I’ll let them out into the small field beside the house together, in the afternoon. So maybe day after tomorrow? But there’s really no way of knowing.” He ran his fingers over his lips and flashed her a smile.

  She sighed and frowned at the ground. “Oh great,” she grumbled.

  He frowned. She really was something – though he wasn’t sure what. “I’m sorry – do you have somewhere else to be?”

  Her lips pulled into a tight line and she shook her head. “I wasn’t told it would take that long. I’m supposed to visit my parents.”

  He shook his head. City women, always in a hurry, always with so much to do. And why on Earth would she wear high heels to a horse ranch? Not to mention designer clothing and a pound of makeup on her face. She’d sure be pretty if she weren’t so made-up. “You’re more than welcome to leave her here and go do what you gotta do. I’m happy to watch her and call you when the deed’s done. I’m sure a woman like you’s got better things to do than sit around on a horse ranch.” He didn’t hide the annoyance in his voice.

  She shook her head. “No, I promised …” Her cheeks flamed pink. “I’m supposed to stay. So …”

  His forehead creased and his eyes studied her face. What was going on? Promised – promised who? She was hiding something, or at the very least not telling him the entire story.

  She shifted uncomfortably and crossed her arms. “What do you mean, a woman like me?”

  “You know.” He waved toward her. “Dressed up, made up, perfume, the whole nine yards.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve got me all figured out, I see.”

  He laughed and adjusted his hat. “Lady, I read you the moment you stepped out of the truck.”

  Her eyes flashed and her nostrils flared. “Well, ditto to you. I’ve known men like you. You just think you’re so special that no woman could possibly resist your charms. Well, I’ve got news for you – you aren’t God’s gift to women, even with that dimpled smile of yours.”

  He grinned, flashing his dimple as best he could and letting his baby blues sparkle just to tease her. “Yes, ma’am,” he drawled, tugging the brim of his hat. “On that note, why don’t I show you to your room so you can get settled in?”

  She smiled, her eyes cold, and nodded. “Thank you. That would be fine.”

  * * *

  Safely ensconced in her room, Hazel slumped onto the bed and lay back on the covers with her hands pressed over her eyes. She couldn’t believe how much of a jerk Dalton Williams was. She seethed, reliving that moment in the stables. He thought he knew all about her just by the way she dressed? Well, she’d never let him push her into a box like that. She was more than fancy clothing and flawless makeup – she was a woman of substance, and she hated that for a moment he’d made her feel like less.

  She groaned and sat up to survey the room. As much as she’d like to fling his lousy housekeeping skills in his face, she had to admit the room was neat and clean. The house itself was in a sorry state, but he seemed to have scrubbed the interior until it sparkled. He’d even added a few decorative touches to the guest room to make it warm and welcoming. The pale blue comforter was complimented by a set of throw pillows. The dresser had a vintage lamp. There was even a cozy-looking afghan over one arm of the wooden rocking chair in the corner.

  She stood and unzipped her Louis Vuitton suitcase, shaking her head at the mud-caked wheels. In a few minutes, she’d moved everything into the dresser, with her toiletries sitting on top of it. She changed quickly into athletic gear, pulled her hair into a ponytail, plugged her earbuds into her ears and selected an upbeat track. She needed to run a few miles to work the fury out of her system before she could face Dalton again.

  She poked her head out of the doorway to peer up and down the hall. Good – the cowboy was nowhere in sight. She slunk down the hallway and out the front door, being careful to shut it quietly behind her.

  The afternoon sun was setting, and the stifling heat of the day had finally begun to lift. She stood still for a moment, looking out at the yard, fields and grazing horses. It really was pretty in a rustic kind of way. She doubted she could ever live in such a place – it wasn’t likely there’d be a good sushi restaurant within easy driving distance. And she couldn’t imagine going without her sushi. She put her head down and set off at a run down the long drive, the music pounding in her ears.

  When she returned a half-hour later, she was dripping with sweat and the sun was disappearing over the horizon. The farmhouse slid into darkness, apart from a single porch light that had likely been turned on for her benefit. She sniffed. Too little, too late, Mr. Williams. She removed her shoes, set them next to Dalton’s work boots, and tiptoed back through the front door.

  She could hear him banging around in the kitchen. He had music playing – country, of course – and was singing along off-key. She grinned. He really did sound adorable, even if he was hopelessly obnoxious.

  By the time she’d showered and changed into denim shorts and a white T-shirt the singing had stopped. Only the faint strains of a lonesome melody floated out to greet her. She marched into the kitchen to find him sitting at the little round dining table in the breakfast nook, a plate of steaming hot food in front of him and a fork poised over the plate.

  He smiled at her and set his fork down. “Evening, Hazel. I made chicken parmagiana if you want some.”

  She shook her head. “No, thank you – I’m going to order in. Do you have a number for the local sushi place?”

  He laughed and combed his fingers through his thick brown hair, his eyes twinkling. “Sushi? Sorry, you won’t find any of that ‘round here parts. The only thing delivered out here is fried chicken, pizza and Chinese food. Would you like the numbers for them?”

  Her chin dropped and she sighed. “No, thanks. I suppose I’ll just have to make someth
ing myself.”

  “Like I said, you’re welcome to a plate of –”

  “I can manage just fine on my own.” She opened the refrigerator and found a loaf of bread, some butter, a few vegetables and a carton of milk. The pantry contained more options, but since she hardly ever cooked for herself, she wasn’t exactly sure what to do with them.

  Finally her gaze landed on a box of instant macaroni and cheese and she pulled it from the pantry with a grimace. How many calories were there in that stuff? She decided not to look and instead grabbed the milk and butter and a saucepan. She studied the instructions on the box carefully, following line by line with her fingertip.

  A chuckle behind her made her gasp. “You sure you don’t need some help with that?” Dalton asked.

  She spun to face him with wide eyes. She’d been concentrating so hard on the task at hand, she hadn’t noticed him sneak up behind her. And she didn’t like how he looked her up and down, his eyes gleamed with appreciation. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

  “You look as though you’ve never made mac and cheese before.” He crossed his arms over his thick chest and raised an eyebrow.

  She frowned. “Actually, I haven’t. I don’t eat a lot of carbs …”

  His laughter stopped her. “Of course you don’t. Well, don’t let me interrupt – I’m gonna go and watch some TV. Just holler if you need anything.” He left the pan of chicken parmagiana sitting on top of the stove, beside a pot of strained pasta and wandered out into the living room, letting the kitchen door swing closed behind him.

  She wrinkled her nose at his departing back, then returned to the task at hand. While the water boiled, she peeled a carrot and bit into it with a smile of satisfaction. She was starving after the long day of travel and the run. She’d pushed herself to the limit and was pretty sure she’d beat her own personal record. Her stomach growled at the smell of Dalton’s dish right in front of her. Her eyes kept roving to it, but she’d tear them free and re-focus on her own boiling pot.