a man who had been around horses his whole life. She pushed back her curiosity. She wasn’t going to ask. Getting personal with him wasn’t on the agenda. Although, her questions burned in the back of her skull.
“The yoke...” He trailed off, looking at how to open it so Valentine could poke his head out. “He’s a curious cuss and will want to stick his head out to survey the area. He doesn’t bite at all.”
She stepped up to the grill and turned to him. “The latch is right here,” she pointed out. Jake got close, so close she got a whiff of him flavored with a woodsy, citrus scent that made her want to turn her head into his chest and breathe deep.
“Where?”
She reached out and captured his wrist, guiding his hand to the latch. His skin was smooth and warm. The double combination of smell and touch sent her heart into overdrive, pounding with a hard beat. “Right here.”
“Of all the newfangled...” He fumbled around, then made a gotcha sound. “There we go,” he said as he slid the cover to the side and latched it.
He was still standing too close and her gaze connected with his. Alanna experienced that same flutter as she fell victim to the laughter in his eyes. She had a sudden and nearly overpowering urge to touch him again, but she drew a slow, measured breath and deliberately hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her chaps.
He was watching her with that unsettling steadiness again. She made herself back away just to be out of his disturbing presence.
Her voice was only slightly uneven when she said, “I assume you brought your own tack.”
He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yes, it’s in my truck parked up at the arena. I’ll unload it later.”
Okay, more devastating when he smiled. It disarmed her even more. “Let me show you the tack room.”
“You have a chandelier in a barn,” he drawled, stopping and looking up.
She smiled. “Yes, there’s no reason we can’t be elegant and refined, even in a barn.”
He shook his head. “Yes, ma’am.”
It was clear he didn’t agree. “We have a heated tack room, two wash stations that include hot water, a heated viewing area for our customers, and an upper level split loft area for hay.”
Five minutes later she took him over to the apartments, leading him through the great room with its comfy furniture and TV, past the tricked-out gourmet kitchen with two old-fashioned big farmer’s tables where a dark-haired woman who looked about the same age as Alanna stood at the stove, her back to them.
“Hi, Ellen,” Alanna said.
The woman turned and smiled, her hazel eyes warm and infectious. “Hello, Miss Colton.”
“This is Jake McCord. He’s going to be working here taming Zorro. This is Ellen Martin. She’s your cook.”
Her brows rose, and her eyes went skeptical. “That’s a tall task. Good luck with that. Breakfast is at 8:00, lunch at noon and dinner at 5:00. Coffee is always hot and pie plentiful. Snacks on demand.” She smiled, and Alanna was aware of just how pretty the single mother was. She might have sixteen-year-old Daisy, but she was only thirty-three. She didn’t want to think about Ellen and Jake in any romantic situation, not that it would happen. Why did that bug her?
Jake tugged his hat again. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
Alanna stopped at a small office and opened a metal lockbox hanging on the wall. Searching through, she extracted a key. Climbing the stairs up to the third floor of the remodeled barn, she took him through the door to the largest of the apartments.
“Home away from home,” she said, opening the drapes to reveal a balcony patio. “Fowler requested you be given these accommodations. Parking is in an underground area below the apartments.”
“This is very generous of you, ma’am. Thank you.”
Alanna walked back toward the door and Jake stood just inside the foyer. She had to slide past him. “Fowler thinks you should be as close to and have as much access to Zorro as possible. You will need a comfortable place to come back to.” Her voice lowered. “Zorro is...dangerous. He’s been mishandled in the past and, coupled with a fighting spirit, he is unpredictable. I would ask you, for your safety, to be very careful.”
Jake studied her for a second, then leaned his shoulder against the wall. A heavy measuring look settled on his face, and she got the impression once again that he carried a considerable burden. “Horses don’t live in the past or the future. They live in the moment. People are the ones with an agenda, timetables, time limits, goals. Makes for a major disconnect with their horses. Dwelling on the past brings baggage, and focusing on the future can bring anxiety.” The way he looked was incongruent with his sage response. Awareness churned through her, making her heart jump and she was struck by a paralyzing fascination to know what it was she saw in his eyes. “I work with horses in the present. No need to worry. Zorro won’t hurt me.”
He could hurt you. She thought without reason or comprehension, and Alanna was very good at protecting herself. She had to in a family with more politics than the US government and just as much backstabbing as ancient Rome. With a father who had been rumored to be a former bank robber, a serial killer uncle, Fowler and Marceline scheming to create trouble between everyone, her stepmother’s histrionics, growing up on guard with an inner layer of steel was warranted. She wasn’t going to find out about Jake. Vulnerability was too risky. She had her own burdens to bear, stress and anxiety to handle. Best to steer clear of anything too complicated when her attention needed to be elsewhere. Even with those thoughts, she felt something had tilted beneath her as if everything had just been thrown out of sync. The bleak look in Jake’s eyes did awful things to her heart, and she shivered, hurting for him. And not even knowing or understanding why.
She cleared her throat and stepped back. “Why don’t you get settled?” She looked at her watch. “Buck should be back in about fifteen minutes and will be at the arena. Meet us back there when you’re ready.”
Ha. Sage advice from him about horses. They did live in the present. Too bad he couldn’t apply it to his own life. Too much of his “present” was mired in stuff that had happened in the past. The loss of his younger brother, Matt, to gangs and drugs, and the loss of the rookie that still made the guilt mount, caused sleepless nights, the heat that had fueled his meltdown and burnout. But he wasn’t here to dwell on baggage. Alanna was waiting for an answer and he nodded. “I’ll be there as soon as I unload.”
She handed him the key. “You’re expected to handle the daily upkeep, but there will be a maid that comes through every week.”
“Will do.” She left and closed the door behind her. This two-bedroom apartment was smaller than his modest house, but definitely more expensively furnished. The floor was hardwood and the colors russet, gold with burned orange accents. The small kitchen was compact and complete with a microwave. The living room looked comfortable and inviting with the leather couch and stylish chair and ottoman along with a rugged coffee table, small stand and wide-screen TV.
It didn’t take him long to walk back to his truck and drive the rig over to the stables and unload his hand-tooled saddle, the
