but it’s still thundering, of sorts.”
“It is, but that field is male-dominant, too. I suppose that women like me, those who enjoy the thundering aspect, as you put it, would lean more toward those routes. They’re more acceptable, for one, and available through established channels. There’s also barrel racing and the whole western rodeo aspect of that type of racing as well.”
Rafe glanced at Petunia, then reached out and stroked the side of her neck. For someone who didn’t seem particularly interested in getting up close and personal with his horse, she was pleased to see that his touch was confident, almost casual, as if he’d done it a thousand times before. Petunia leaned a bit closer to him.
Maybe he was just good with anything female, Elena thought, and found herself looking at his hands. They looked strong, with wide palms, solid, long fingers, and she found herself abstractedly wondering what they’d feel like stroking the length of her—
“So why don’t you race?” Rafe asked, intruding into her reverie and thankfully pulling her back to the moment literally at hand.
“What? Oh, me, race?” She shook her head. “No. I enjoy riding, but I’m too big to be a jockey. Not that I really wanted to be one, anyway. I enjoy working with the horses themselves. All animals, really.” She smiled. “I thought about being a vet when I was little, but it turns out I don’t do too well with the sight of blood.”
His lips curved just a little and, too late, she remembered that part about his charm being more lethal when he was amused. “That would certainly put a damper on things.”
“Pretty much. One of the farms I spent time on as a child was run by a woman who did all kinds of rescue work with animals. She was amazing. And I thought that’s what I wanted to do when I grew up, heal wounded animals. Turns out the wounded part was a little hard for me. I ended up following my dad’s footsteps more instead.”
“You said he was a show-horse trainer.”
“He was. A very good one, in fact. He worked hard to build his reputation, but we moved around a lot as a consequence of his popularity.”
“What about your mother? Did she work with horses as well?”
“Not at all. In fact, she didn’t even ride.” When Rafe lifted his eyebrows, she explained further. “My mother and father met on one of the farms where he worked. He trained the horses, she worked in the main house as a housekeeper.” She held his gaze steadily now. She was quite proud of her parents, but not everybody who heard their story reacted the same way.
“My mother worked as a maid in a hotel in New York City. Amongst other things,” Rafe responded.
Apparently her surprise showed on her face, because his resulting hint of a smile was sardonic at best. “Why are you surprised?”
“I don’t know. I guess I wouldn’t have pegged you as being from a blue-collar background.” Which wasn’t entirely true. She’d noted before that for all his casual elegance, there was something edgy about him that spoke of a life not completely without challenges. She just wasn’t sure what those challenges had been. “And given that I, of all people, should know better, that was horribly hypocritical of me. I’m sorry.” Her smile was more than a little abashed. “My mother would have had such a lecture for me right now.”
He did smile then, and it wasn’t any less powerful this time around than it had been in the barn the other day. His entire aura changed when he did that. He looked like someone who not only understood the concept of fun, but would enjoy getting you into trouble when he had it.
“I’ve received that same lecture more than once,” he said.
He was already sorely testing her sense of balance. Their chance bond was as unexpected as it was unwanted. At least on her end. She didn’t mind him being more approachable, but she could ill afford to let herself become any more attracted to him. For one thing, she hadn’t yet determined if he was friend or foe. But even if it was the former, she couldn’t risk it. Letting anyone get close right now would be a major risk. Besides, her time here was limited, so what was the point? All she had to do was resist temptation. Very potent temptation.
Putting Springer at the very forefront of her mind, she worked to keep the conversation cordial, but professional. “I guess I had that reaction because you seem so…refined.” She gestured to his clothes. “Even in khakis and a polo shirt you look more dapper than most men would in a tailored suit.”
That got a choked laugh from him. It wasn’t exactly a joyful sound, but it was nice to know he had it in him.
“Dapper. That’s rather…stuffy, isn’t it?”
She merely raised an eyebrow.
“I’m not remotely stuffy,” he protested, but she could see the wheels turning, analyzing, wondering. As if no one had ever mentioned that to him before. She had a hard time believing that.
“Maybe stuffy isn’t the right word,” she said. Guarded, she decided, was closer to it, but thought better than to say it out loud. “So, it looks like neither one of us was born with the silver spoon.” She glanced down at her own battered overalls and boots and brushed at the ever-present mud and dirt that caked the front of her pants. “One of us just looks more the part than the other,” she said with a self-deprecating smile. “So, what about your father? What did he do?”
“No idea. Never met the man.”
“Oh.” And maybe her heart tilted just a tiny bit. It was only natural, she told herself. She was a sucker for all things orphaned or in need. Not that he was either of those things, but still, she couldn’t imagine a life without the strength and wisdom both her parents had given her. “I’m sorry for that.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Don’t be. My mother is a hell of a woman. I think she did okay by me.”
Elena couldn’t help but think so, too. As much as she wanted to distrust this man and keep her distance, he wasn’t making it easy. She hadn’t expected to have anything in common with him, and she still felt they were diametric opposites, probably in more ways than not. She hadn’t gotten all that far away from her roots, whereas, while he might have had a rough beginning, he’d certainly gone a long way toward polishing off any rough edges from his upbringing. He was downright burnished, in fact. “I’m sure she’s very proud of you. With good reason.”
“We all have our lives,” he said. “All paths lead somewhere. Mine hasn’t turned out so bad.”
All paths lead somewhere. Elena couldn’t help but wonder about her own, and wished she could say the same. “Where is your mom now?”
“Florida. She’s retired, although someone needs to tell her that. Woman volunteers more hours a week than most people put in at a paying job.”
That last part sounded familiar. “Maybe that’s her way of relaxing. My mother was happiest when taking care of others, no matter what my dad and I said.”
“You two would get along famously,” he said dryly. “She’s worked so hard her whole life, she should be out playing golf or something now.”
Elena laughed. “I couldn’t imagine my mother on a golf course. My dad could have probably gotten her out there, though.”
“Where
