preferred situations she could control.
“That settles that, then,” her stepmother offered with a toothy grin.
Marjorie’s problems always disappeared. Presley’s merely grew. And she had a feeling she was way out of her depth on this one.
Kane wasn’t sure he was surprised when the woman who answered the Macarthurs’ front door told him, “Miss Presley is almost always in the barn.” The Presley he’d met the night before certainly wasn’t a Miss Kentucky pageant type. But he had to admit he didn’t have a lot of experience with daughters of bigwigs who were willing to get their hands dirty.
He was used to the daughters of fellow laborers, who loved animals and worked just as hard as any of the men.
He certainly hadn’t expected to hear Presley’s raised voice as he closed the stable door behind him. Several hands at the far end of the aisle kept their heads down and focused intently on their work, pointedly ignoring the noise. A lone man stood in the aisle closer to Kane, stance rigid, arms crossed over his chest, gaze trained tightly on the open stall in front of him until Kane walked into his peripheral vision.
Their eyes met as Presley’s hardened voice continued to boom out from inside a nearby stall. She was scolding someone Kane couldn’t see. “I realize she doesn’t like her hooves cleaned. First of all, if you can’t work around that, you aren’t good enough or experienced enough to be employed here. Second of all, if you ever lay a hand on any of my horses like that again, it’s the last horse you’ll touch in this barn. Do I make myself clear?”
There was a silence, and Kane saw the man in front of him tense up even more, if that was possible. From within the stall, the employee being reprimanded replied with a tight “yes, ma’am.”
Then Kane’s companion in the aisle relaxed.
“Now,” Presley said, her voice turning indulgent as though she was trying to teach something to a particularly hardheaded child, “I’ll do one hoof for you, then you can do the others while I watch.”
No argument was forthcoming. Kane grinned, imagining the grown stable hand being taken back to Hoof Cleaning 101 and the ribbing he would get from his coworkers later today. Sounded like he deserved it, though.
The man who stood before Kane in the aisle finally held a hand out to him. “Hello there. I’m Bennett, the Macarthurs’ stable manager.”
Kane shook, introducing himself in turn. He jerked his head in the direction of the stall. “Shouldn’t you be dealing with that?”
Bennett shrugged. “Usually I do, but Miss Presley is a very hands-on owner. Has been since her daddy first brought her into the stables.” He turned his gaze back to the stall door as if checking progress. “There are certain things she will always handle herself. Mistreatment, no matter how small, is something she’s adamant about being informed of immediately. We have a zero-tolerance policy here.”
“But she didn’t throw him out on his ass at the first sign?”
“Depends on what happens. She’s also a fair employer. She understands that many of these men have families to support or are just learning their trade.” Bennett’s craggy face softened with approval. “The men know it, too. They don’t cross her. We rarely have problems, but she’s quick to handle whatever comes along.”
So she had experience along with her degree in equine management. No wonder she was well respected. Kane had done a little digging before showing up this morning, just to double-check the information he’d gathered from the grapevine. But he hadn’t just been after her business credentials—EvaMarie had known a lot more about Presley personally, piquing Kane’s interest on a totally different topic.
Her reluctance to make personal appearances at parties had been well noted throughout the years, often leaving her open to ridicule from other women in their social circle. While her business reputation had been solid long before her father’s death, her social reputation had often floundered. After watching Presley for those few moments with Marjorie the night before, he could easily guess why.
She’d never been allowed to find her true footing. To be herself in the face of peer pressure from society’s little darlings. Kane’s sudden desire to help her set off alarm bells in his head. The last thing he should do was attempt to fix anyone. He’d been down that road before, and he simply wasn’t built for it.
It was the only thing he’d ever failed at in his life.
But Presley was a whole different ball game from Emily. The last thing she needed was taking care of—as her management skills attested. If Kane could help her tweak her public persona while they were together, it would simply be an added bonus of their arrangement. He was way more interested in what would happen in private when their time in the spotlight was done.
“See, you just have to know how to handle her. Now go help Arden get the water tank fixed,” he heard Presley command.
Something about her confidence made Kane smile—and his body come to attention. Presley wouldn’t be a limp, lazy princess who expected someone to make her happy in bed. Oh, no, this woman would be a full participant.
Not that he should be considering that so soon...
As a shamefaced man came out the stall door with his thumbs hooked in his jeans pockets, Bennett directed him down the aisle with a jerk of his head. He glanced as Kane. “That could have ended very badly, with fussin’ and fightin’. But not with Miss Presley. Somehow she can take ’em to task, put ’em on the right path and get everyone movin’ forward without a knock-down-drag-out.” He winked. “But I’m always nearby, just in case.”
Bennett followed his employee down the aisle, leaving Kane to approach the stall door all alone.
Presley’s murmured words to the mare soothed Kane’s nerves, which he now realized had been standing at attention from the first moment he’d heard her raised voice. Unfortunately, the sight of her as she bent over and carefully inspected each of the horse’s hooves had other things coming to attention, too.
Last night, Presley’s flowy dress had been hiding some serious curves. Today she wore a very soft-looking T-shirt tucked into a pair of jeans. Rounded hips blossomed from a tiny waist hugged by denim. When she stood to pat the horse’s back, he saw that the cotton of her shirt clung just as faithfully in all the right places.
Holy hell. He was in trouble...so why was he grinning like an idiot?
He forced his gaze upward, only to encounter a glare directed his way. Funny, it didn’t dampen his excitement. “Hello, Presley.”
“What are you doing here?” she asked, narrowing her gaze on him.
“Watching you in action,” he replied, fully understanding how much that would aggravate her. “I’m impressed.”
To his surprise, she had quite a sarcastic mouth on her. “I’m so glad you liked what you saw.”
But her bravado didn’t stop a flush spreading over her cheeks. Perhaps as a gentleman, he should clarify his previous comment. “There’s a difference between
