seat of his truck, pretending to be so mad he’d decided to drive off with the trailer door still wide open. Natalie saw why a moment later. As he drove out of the ring, the black gelding followed, leapt for the open door, and then whipped around, still holding the black handkerchief. The horse waved it at the crowd as if saying goodbye.
“Amazing,” she heard herself say.
“He is.” Jillian and Wes applauded as loudly as the rest. Heck, even the cowboys who sat or stood behind the chutes gave him a hand. “Wes can go down and talk to him right now.”
Natalie stood up. “That’s okay.”
Jillian’s pretty green eyes dimmed. “Are you certain? Colt would never so no to Wes.”
She smiled tightly. “He won’t say no to me, either.”
* * *
DAMN SPURS. THEY ALWAYS seemed to hang up in the carpet of his truck, Colt thought. He’d nearly fallen on his ass when one of the rowels snagged a loop as he hopped out. He’d be glad when he could take them off. He never used the damn things anyway—they were all for show. Part of the act. Jeans, black chaps and black cowboy hat. City people seemed to expect that.
“Get on out of there, Teddy.”
The gelding stood just where he expected—at the back of the trailer, head hanging out, handkerchief still clasped in his mouth.
“Come on. Show’s over.”
He could swear Teddy understood, because the horse dropped the handkerchief, lowered his head to examine the ground before gingerly stepping out of the trailer—looking for all the world like a toddler exploring new surroundings for the first time—and came over to Colt. Soft puffs of breath emerged from the black muzzle as Teddy attempted to sniff out the treat he knew Colt would have stashed somewhere. Finding which pocket was part of the game, and it didn’t take the gelding long. Within seconds he was nuzzling Colt’s left hip, darn near knocking the halter Colt had hanging on his shoulder to the ground.
“Peppermint.” Colt reached into his pocket for the treat, unwrapped it, and offered it to the horse. “Your favorite.”
The gelding suckled the mint as if wanting to make it last. It made Colt smile. He fingered the wrapper, thinking back to the time when he couldn’t even get near the creature. That’d been two years ago and there’d been days when he’d been ready to throw in the towel, but he hadn’t given up. The horse wasn’t the only one with an abusive past. He understood more than most what it took to overcome that kind of adversity.
“We got you turned around sure enough, though, didn’t we?”
“You sure did.”
Colt looked past the horse and right into the eyes of the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
Scratch that.
He’d seen her before, at Zach and Mariah’s wedding, and he’d done a double take back then, too. He’d noted the blue, blue eyes. The heart-shaped face and wide lips. The only thing different was her thick blond hair. She’d cut it off. Still no makeup, though. Women as attractive as she was didn’t need anything to help them look better.
“You’re—”
“Natalie Goodman,” she finished for him with a small smile.
“That’s right.” It wasn’t like him not to look at a person directly, but for some reason he couldn’t maintain eye contact with this pretty blonde. “English trainer or something,” he said, slipping the halter on Teddy.
His friend Wes had mentioned her a few billion times. Wanted them to meet, thought they’d get along, yada yada yada. His friend didn’t understand. Beautiful or not. Animal lover or not. Smart or not. Colt wasn’t the relationship type. Never had been, never would be. His past was just too...messy. Military. Crazy dad. It’d all left a mark. Things never worked out, and that was okay. He didn’t need anybody or anything. Just his horses.
“Hunters and jumpers.”
He peeked back at her. She smiled even wider. He patted Teddy’s head. “Well, nice to see you again, Miss Natalie Goodman. I hope you enjoyed the show.”
With any luck, she’d leave. She didn’t. He glanced over at her again. Off-white shirt—peasant blouse, they called it—and skin tight jeans. Too good-looking for her own good. He didn’t think he’d made a good impression the first time they’d met, and judging by the way one side of her mouth lowered, he would bet he wasn’t earning any bonus points now.
He began tying Teddy to the trailer. “Something I can do for you, ma’am?”
“Actually, yes.” She forced the wattage of her smile back up a notch. “I need a favor.” But her grin was as precarious as a butterfly perched on the edge of a flower, and an instant later it slipped, that sweet face of hers rearranging itself into an expression of resignation. “Wes and Jillian suggested I talk to you.”
Colt could well imagine what was behind that suggestion, considering the number of times Wes had hinted at getting them together. He forced himself to look her full in the face.
“What kind of favor?”
“I need a horse trainer.”
He had to have misheard her. “Sorry?”
She took a step toward him and brushed her short hair over an ear, almost as if she’d forgotten for a moment that it wasn’t long anymore. “I need a trainer. Someone who can make horses do things I can’t.”
Teddy nudged him, almost knocking him over, reminding him that he’d been in the process of tending to the horse. Wasn’t like him to lose focus like that.
“Sorry, but I must be slow on the uptake. From what I’ve heard you’re the best thing since sliced bread. Horsewoman of the year. International fame. What could you possibly need me for?” He lifted a brow. “Thinking of chucking it all and starting your own rodeo company?”
The side of her mouth tipped upward again, the beginnings of a smile, a real smile, brightening her blue eyes. “Something like that.”
He finished tying up Teddy. He really didn’t have time to sit around and chat. He had to get on the road fairly quickly if he wanted to be up north before dark. He had a show in Sacramento tomorrow.
“So?” He bent to check one of Teddy’s front feet. “Do you have a problem horse or something?”
“I have a problem life.”
He set down Teddy’s foot. Join the club. “Okay, spill.”
Oddly, or maybe not so oddly since he made his living watching things closely, he found he could read her like a book. He spotted the way her desire to ask for help warred with her sense of independence. She didn’t really want to be there, standing in a parking area for rodeo competitors, talking to him.
“I’ve decided to take up a new discipline of riding.” The grin she wrestled onto her face didn’t seem to want to cooperate. “Freestyle reining, preferably without a bridle.”
He’d
