Carolina had difficulty comprehending that kind of relationship. Her life with Hugh had been loving and exciting. If anything he’d been overly protective of her. A man’s man, all the way. He’d been her world, and she’d never known fear of anything or anyone when he was around.
The familiar ache set in again. As busy as her life was, as much as she loved her family, her heart still longed for the relationship she’d shared with Hugh.
Having known that kind of love, she could never settle for anything less. She had no illusions that she’d ever find love like that again.
The pain was blinding, as if someone were hammering nails into his skull. Not a new pain, but one that had become excruciatingly more familiar since the day he’d been sentenced to four agonizing years in prison.
He recognized the torture for what it was, knew the only real release would come when he was back in control. When he could feel the sweet release of revenge.
He’d had four years to plan the payback. Nights of trying to fall asleep to the sounds of rants from half-insane inmates and the scratching of rats scurrying in and out of his stinking cell. Days of staring at bars and marching to the barking orders of guards whom he longed to twist apart like rotten fruit.
Four years of torture. It was time for action. The plan was all in place. The clock was clicking inside the very marrow of his bones.
He picked up the bottle of beer from the bar in front of him, took the last gulp and signaled to the waitress to bring him another.
Before she could, a platinum blonde wearing a low-cut top and inches of thick makeup got up from her stool a few down from his and walked over.
“Want some company? Looks like the rain is going to be with us for a while.”
He didn’t want company, but he shrugged and she obviously took that for a yes. She slid onto the stool next to his.
“I hate stormy Mondays.”
“Yeah,” he muttered. In prison a man lost track of the days. They came and went in a steady stream of monotonous boredom, seeing the same people, eating the same lousy food, staring at the same dull walls.
“You married?” she asked.
“Yeah. My wife is out screwing some wealthy rancher. Is that what you’re looking for, too? I figure you’re just another slut looking for some man to pay for your drinks and maybe get in your pants.”
“You’re crazy, you know that? A freakin’ nutcase.” She stood and walked away.
The waitress put his bottle of beer in front of him without saying a word. He threw a few bills on the bar, gulped down his beer, then got up and walked out of the nearly empty bar.
The rain needled his skin. He kept walking. The hammering grew worse. If he didn’t let off some steam soon, he’d explode.
Carolina was curled up beneath the comforter, trying to concentrate on a suspense novel she’d taken from the antique desk. She looked up at a light tap on her door.
She glanced at her watch. Almost five. “Come in.”
Peg did, still in her robe and barefoot, since their boots probably wouldn’t be dry for hours. Yet her hair was dry and shiny, makeup meticulously applied.
“Laundry’s done.” She handed Carolina her jeans, shirt, socks and undies.
“You even folded them. Thanks.”
“Actually, Edna folded them. She wouldn’t let me or Sara near the laundry room.”
“We’ll have to think of something nice to do for her after this week,” Carolina said. “Have you seen Mildred?”
“Not yet, but Edna is taking her dry clothes to her now. She would have delivered yours, but she was afraid of waking you. She thinks you’re royalty.”
“That’s what happens when you make the society page.”
They both laughed. “I told Edna you’re a workaholic and were probably in here finalizing and double-checking everything for the Saddle-Up training.”
“You know me too well,” Carolina answered, sidestepping the truth.
Working would have been far more productive than vacillating between concerns about what Thad Caffey might try next and trying to figure out how she could totally manage to avoid Jake Dalton, especially after her wet T-shirt display.
“Edna suggested we meet back in the den for cocktails or a glass of wine once we’re dressed.”
“I’ll join you, but no alcohol for me. I still have to drive back to Austin tonight.”
“If the roads are passable. That was a deluge for about an hour.”
Peg shut the door behind her as she left. Carolina slid off the side of the bed and padded over to the window.
The wind had stopped howling, the thunder had faded into the distance and the driving rain no longer swept the windows in sheets. Only a light mist and a blanket of dark clouds remained—the clouds a lingering threat that the weather might not be through with them yet.
Carolina dressed hurriedly, finished drying her hair and put on a tinge of lipstick before heading back to the den. She heard the laughter as soon as she started down the hallway.
“Thought you’d abandoned us,” Mildred said when Carolina rearranged a couple of throw pillows and took a seat on the end of a deep brown leather sofa.
“I had some paperwork to do.”
Lizzie perched on the arm of the other end of the sofa. “Those camps must be a lot of work, but I bet those kids love it—or do some of them hate it?”
“Some do when they first arrive,” Carolina admitted. “But we usually convert them long before the month is over. The horses win their hearts.”
“I know. When I got my first very own colt, I even slept in the horse barn a few nights. Do you teach Western saddle riding?”
“Absolutely,” Carolina said. “We do the whole cowgirl experience. Riding, some minimal roping, sampling every kind of taco you can imagine and singing songs around the campfire. Of course they have to learn to clean stables and take care of the horses, too.”
“Naturally. So, do you get out with the kids yourself or just sponsor the camps and the training?”
“I’m hands-on,” Carolina said, “especially for the fun activities.”
“She’s out there every day, all day,” Mildred said. “Works harder than any of us.”
“Awesomesauce,” Lizzie said. “The way Edna talks, you’re
