he’d been right. She was being modest. From all accounts he’d read, she’d done very well in a short period of time and showed enough promise that the papers had expected her winning streak to continue. But she gave it all up rather quickly, and Jensen was learning the reason.
“Your grandparents raised you?” he asked.
“I was actually born in Lubbock, but my father died when I was five, and my mother and I moved in with his parents, Gram and Pop, after the funeral. Pop was a retired rodeo cowboy who bred and trained cutting horses. He was the one who trained me and encouraged me to follow my dream.”
It sounded similar to Jensen’s own father, who had encouraged him to play polo rather than follow family tradition and join the Royal Air Force. In fact, he and his father had been in the process of purchasing a polo farm and investing in a couple of prize mares from Argentina when Sir Simon died four years ago, taking some of Jensen’s dreams along with him.
“So you’ve put your future on hold to help run the family business,” he said.
“Pretty much. Besides the rodeo, I’ve never had much of a plan for my life. I mean, it’s not like Horseback Hollow is jumping with opportunities for barrel-racing rodeo queens. I always figured I’d end up back on the Broken R someday anyway, working with horses. I suppose you can say that I just started doing that a bit earlier than I expected.”
Jensen nodded. “When my father passed away, it forced me to step back and look at my life and what I ought to be doing with it. Someone had to take over the reins of the family investments and enterprises, as well as Chesterfield Ltd., and since I’d been educated and groomed to do so, I took the helm. Fortunately, I can handle a lot of it remotely—although, with the time difference, I’m working online and on Skype at some strange hours.”
“When do you sleep?” she asked.
“I find the time. I also take a nap now and then. The most important thing to me has always been my family, and now that my father’s gone, the responsibility of looking after them has passed along to me. Hence the reason I was so rude to you when you came to see Amelia the other day. I fear I’m terribly overprotective.”
Amber smiled. “I can understand that. I never had any siblings. You’re very lucky to have such a big family.”
“I try to remind myself of that, although it does take quite a bit of getting used to. As you may know, we only recently met all of our Fortune cousins, so I’m still coming to terms with such a large addition to the family.”
“But your British side of the family wasn’t all that small.”
No, it wasn’t. His mother had been married before—to Rhys Henry Hayes. It hadn’t been a happy union and had ended in divorce. The one good thing, though, was that it had produced Oliver and Brodie, Jensen’s older brothers.
Fortunately, his mum had met Sir Simon, the love of her life, soon after. Together they’d had Jensen, followed by Charles, Lucie and Amelia.
“I suppose a family of six siblings sounds pretty large to an only child,” he said.
“Large? I’d call it enormous. Do you get along?”
“Other than a few little tiffs now and again, yes. But I’d have to say we owe that to the parenting skills and the love of our mum and my father.”
They rode through a tree-lined summit that opened up to a pristine and scenic waterfall. The red rock cliffs surrounding the swimming hole provided a stunning backdrop to the calm blue water below.
“Here it is. Horseback Hollow’s hidden gem.”
“I can see why the residents would want to keep it private. It’s beautiful. Do you swim in it?” The thought of Amber Rogers in a two-piece swim costume stirred his blood in a way he hadn’t expected.
“Not this time of year.” She swung off her horse and tied the reins to a low-hanging branch of a nearby weeping willow tree. “But come summer, the place is hopping with kids and teenagers trying to beat the Texas heat. Personally, I like it best during the winter, when it’s quiet and empty and a person can just ride up here and be all alone with their horse and their thoughts.”
“Really? I wouldn’t have pegged you for the quiet and introspective type.” He regretted his word choice when she lifted a delicate brow at him.
“Do you picture me singing ‘Happy Trails’ around a campfire wearing fringes and a sequined hat like Dale Evans?”
“Maybe not singing, but I definitely can see you wearing fringes and sequins, riding faster than lightning through a cheering arena.” He’d actually seen photographs of her when he’d looked her up on the internet.
Her shoulders slumped, and she gazed at the waterfall in the distance.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“No, it’s not that. I guess I really do miss the rodeo life more than I expected. The glitz and the crowds are just a small part of my job. The practices and the injuries and hauling my horses and my gear all across the country was the hardest and biggest part, but all that work was worth it when the horn would sound, and I’d take off racing for that first barrel. I guess I should be lucky that I still get to work with horses and ride whenever I feel like it.”
“But you still miss the excitement?”
“I really do. But I’m glad to be helping Gram, which, trust me, comes with its own share of excitement—as well as its confusion. I can’t believe she’d even consider entering a dance contest. She never did anything like that with Pop. I didn’t even know she liked to dance.”
“Maybe she didn’t know that until she met Mr. Murdock. My mother didn’t know she’d come to love Texas barbecue until she came to Horseback Hollow for her first visit. Now, every time she flies back to England, she stuffs her luggage with jars of homemade rubs and sauces. A few months ago, she brought home a cooler filled with brisket and had our cook commission a company to install a smoker on the back lawn at our Chesterfield Estate.”
Amber laughed, causing him to feel ten feet tall for bringing her out of her funk. “You’re right. I’m sure you didn’t realize how much you would love riding in that Western saddle.”
“Oh no. You’re wrong. As much as I like cowboy movies, and as hard as I’ve tried to adjust, I just can’t seem to get used to this ghastly thing. I’m going into Lubbock later this week to custom order a proper English saddle. The pommel, the stirrups, everything just sits wrong on these American rigs.”
“Really?” A mischievous glint flickered in her eyes. “Is that why you ride so slowly? Are you afraid you might lose your seating, fall out of that sturdy saddle and dirty those fancy white breeches?”
The corner of her mouth tilted. She was a cocky little thing—and in need of a lesson.
As Jensen strode to his horse, he wished he had one of his thoroughbreds back home for the challenge he was about to issue. “I’ll wager I can ride faster than you, despite this inferior equestrian equipment my brother-in-law provided me.”
“What do I get if I win?” she asked, already mounting up.
He
