wanted the best.”
She met his gaze, admiring his confidence despite how annoying it was.
“And you’re the best, I suppose.”
“You wouldn’t have come all this way if I weren’t.”
Her lips thinned. He had her to rights there. She had come a long way, and it was all to do with Hamilton’s Ahab. That horse was the main reason she was here, as well as having the discretion to negotiate further stud fees and even add to Navarro with Prairie Rose stock.
“You’re very sure of yourself.”
“Don’t get all in a dander over it. You described the stables like a brochure would, that’s all. I’m just curious to know more. I like to know who I’m dealing with.”
His implacable calm fueled her temper. Who was he to question the integrity of Navarro? She shoved her hands in her pockets to keep them from fidgeting. She knew she shouldn’t rise to the bait but with the exhaustion and surprising emotionalism, she seemed incapable of ignoring it. “All you need to know is that I’m here to do a job. A job I’m more than qualified to do. Nothing else is up for discussion.”
She spun to walk away, but his voice stopped her.
“Run away, then.”
Everything inside her froze.
Run away? Her breath caught at his casual tone. If only she could. If only she could run away from what her life had become. She was so sick of everyone telling her how wonderfully things had turned out in the end. It didn’t feel that way at all. Everything, everything she thought she’d known had been taken away with one conversation. Life had changed irrevocably, and right now all she could see was what she’d lost along the way.
Her job. Her home. Her mother.
Yes, she wished she could run away. But instead she was back to trying to prove herself and find something to anchor her again so she wouldn’t feel as if she were drifting in this endless sea of loss and grief. And that something was her job at the stables, and her task was clear: the breeding program here at Prairie Rose.
And that meant that in the present she had to somehow deal with Brody Hamilton.
She turned and looked at him, sitting there, his black eyes watching her keenly, waiting for a response. Waiting as if he could see through every wall she’d built around herself and knew what she was hiding on the inside.
And for one brief, irrational moment she did want to run. Not away, but into the circle of his arms. They looked like strong arms, arms a woman could get lost in and forget the rest of the world existed. For months now she’d been standing on her own and she was tired. Tired of feeling she had to apologize for not being happy. Tired of pretending, when all she wanted was life back the way she’d had it. Tired of knowing even the past she’d thought secure had been based on a lie. For a few moments she wondered what it would be like to rest her head on his strong shoulder and just be. To let someone carry the weight for a while.
She swallowed. This was ridiculous. She hardly knew him and what she did know she resented. It had to be exhaustion, it was the only reason that made sense to her. There was no other reason for her to feel drawn to Brody Hamilton. None at all.
Looking at him…he just knew where he belonged. He was solid and steady, and he fit in a way she never had.
That was reason enough to resist the urge to step into his arms. Reason enough to resent him for all he had and the fact that he probably didn’t even know it. The thought of stepping into his embrace was laughable.
This was a man who’d just questioned her integrity. She should be taking him down a peg. Instead she was bone tired of all of it. Her gaze dropped to his lips, and something intimate curled through her core. She mentally took a step backward.
“It’s hardly productive for us to argue,” she said, as icily as she could muster. “I believe you were right about the jet lag. I’m not myself. If you’ll excuse me…I’m sure by tomorrow I’ll be squared away and ready to get to work.”
His eyes revealed nothing.
“Of course.” The words were cold with empty manners.
“I’ll take you up, dear.” Mrs. Polcyk came around the corner with a gentle smile. Lucy turned her back on Brody again, forcing yet another smile for the kindly housekeeper. She could still sense his dark eyes on her, and they made her feel naked.
“You’ll be wanting a nice hot bath, and a good meal—dinner’s not far off.”
What Lucy wanted was to disappear for the rest of the night, but she couldn’t help but be comforted by the motherly insistence that somehow food would make everything right.
“That sounds wonderful.”
She followed Mrs. Polcyk to the stairs but turned back at the last moment, displaying some sense of good manners her mum had instilled in her.
“I’ll see you at dinner, Mr. Hamilton.”
“Yes’m.”
The housekeeper led her to the last room along the hall; a large bedroom with a window facing due west. “The bathroom is next door,” Lucy heard, though her gaze was caught by the view of the mountains hovering in the distance. She’d seen them on the highway coming south from Calgary, but since turning east at Larch Valley, they’d slid from view. Now from the second floor window they jutted, gray, dark teeth, up to the hazy blue sky.
“Can you always see the mountains from here?” Lucy spun toward Mrs. Polcyk, who was standing with her hand on the doorknob.
“Most clear days. Wait’ll you see the view from Wade’s Butte.”
“Wade’s Butte?” Lucy couldn’t recall seeing that on her map.
“Get Brody to take you out. It’s probably a couple of hours ride, just on the edge of the ranch land.”
“The name’s not familiar.”
“’Course not. You won’t find it on any map, though most from around here know it right enough. It just sort of got named that, after Brody’s granddad.”
Mrs. Polcyk aimed a bright smile. “You just go relax now, and put on your eatin’ legs. I made roast chicken tonight and there’s peach cobbler for dessert. Cally brought back two cases from BC last week.”
Lucy had no idea who Cally was and wasn’t quite sure what “BC” was, but peach cobbler sounded heavenly. “I’m looking forward to it,” she replied, with as much warmth as she could muster.
Mrs. Polcyk shut the door and left Lucy alone.
She looked around the room. It was different from any place she’d ever stayed. The floor looked like original hardwood, polished within an inch of its life, and the furniture gleamed from a fresh cleaning. The spread on the bed was homemade, a brilliant cacophony of bright colors and fabrics that made a patchwork pattern of flowers. Fresh flowers sat in a vase on the side table. Lucy went over and dipped her nose to sniff at a nasturtium. These weren’t purchased at any store. These had been cut from a garden, today.
