don’t suppose.”
“Then I do not care to know your name.”
The boy said nothing but set about silently moving Fuego through his paces. The horse was jumpy, skittish, but not completely immovable as he had been when Matías had attempted the same.
There was no denying that the boy had a way with the horse. And if Matías wanted him trained in time, he was going to have to allow the boy to step in. The last thing he wanted to do was mishandle such a magnificent creature.
Acquiring Cesar Alvarez’s stock had been a boon for him, and he was not about to waste it.
“What about the other horses from the Alvarez rancho?” Matías called. “You are familiar with them, as well?”
“All of them,” the boy said, not looking over at Matías. “I have worked with all of them.”
“You will work with all of them here,” he said, decisive now. “My trainers keep logs. Juan will show you the proper way to do this. That way I can read about your progress without having to speak to you. As I prefer it.”
“Of course, señor,” the boy said.
“It is because I’m a businessman, and not simply a horseman,” Matías said.
He could have sworn he saw a smile curve the boy’s lips. “Of course, señor.”
Matías turned away, smiling. It was possible that now he had the break he needed to make this animal profitable for him. It seemed as though everything was finally going his way. His engagement to Liliana was cemented. Though she was staying in her own quarters, rather than coming into his.
She had found the transition in their relationship to be a fast one. From a business associate of her father’s to his fiancée. And it was clear she required a bit of time to adjust.
He didn’t mind. He was a patient man, in all things.
He began to walk back toward the ranch house.
He would fulfill his grandfather’s requirements, and the control of the vast family estate would be his at last. A wife. A champion racehorse.
The old man should have known better than to challenge Matías Navarro. Because with him, challenges never went unanswered.
Matías would win this battle with the old man. He knew no other way.
CAMILLA COULDN’T REMEMBER the last time she’d had a chance to shower. It was an awful thing, but there was no shower in her personal quarters. She had to make do with the shared one in the stables, and it always felt a bigger risk than was strictly necessary.
Still, she was dying for one, especially after spending all day working in the intense heat. She had worked with Fuego until they were both nearly exhausted. But it was the happiest she had been since her father died. Being on the back of that horse again. Riding through the olive groves on the property, the hot, dry wind burning its way across her cheeks.
If her mother could see her now, she would truly despair of her. Reddish face, chapped lips, her hair cut close to her skull and just long enough now to stick up at strange angles when she ran her hands through it in frustration, from when the horses failed to do what she asked of them.
She did indeed look like a boy, and it was easy to feel fully immersed in the role. Until she needed something like a shower, in which case she became terribly aware of her body.
The other time she became terribly aware of her body was when Matías would stride across the grounds, wearing those problematic breeches. It made her feel hot, and it made her feel strange. And so much of the feeling centered on the parts of her body she tried to disguise, that it was impossible for her not to hyper-focus on them.
It was late, the sun having gone down a good half our earlier, a chill starting to wrap itself around her body. Hot days like that always left her skin feeling tight, as though there were an invisible layer of dust over every last inch of her.
Most of the staff had gone home, very few of them living in residence as she did, and the others either had private bathroom facilities or would be showering in the morning. At least that was what she was going to go ahead and bank on tonight.
She scampered into the stable, moving through to the tack room, and heading into the shower. She locked the door behind her and stripped her clothes off quickly, unwinding the precautionary medical wrap that she had around her chest.
It was such a slight chest, she probably didn’t have to bind herself, not really. But it was a precaution that she took seriously. Along with these clandestine showers. Just in case. Just in case someone had a key to the room she was in. Just in case somehow, right after her shower, having just been naked, she looked somehow more female.
That was the one good thing about the dirt. It provided an extra layer of coverage. She smiled at that, stepping beneath the hot spray of water and scrubbing each inch of her body as quickly as possible.
That was one asset to short hair, as well. The fact that it took much less time to manage. To wash. And in the morning, she did nothing with it at all.
She hummed as she scrubbed and then shut the water off, much sooner than she would like. But really, she didn’t have the luxury of lingering.
She dressed into the fresh clothes she had brought inside with her—nothing more than baggy sweatpants—and was just about to pull her tank on when the doorknob rattled.
She froze, her heart fluttering like a frightened bird trapped in her chest.
“Occupied,” she said, doing her best to keep her voice low and husky while panic raced through her.
The doorknob quit rattling. She wrapped her chest quickly with the bandage and then gathered up her dirty clothes, taking care to hide the old bandage that she had been wearing.
She unlocked the door, fortifying herself for who she might see on the other side, and stepped out. “I’m sorry,” she said, the words dying on her lips as her eyes made contact with Matías Navarro’s.
“Sorry,” she said again, mumbling.
“I was taking a walk,” he said, his voice hard. “And I saw that there were lights on in here and I came to check.”
“I just needed a shower,” she responded.
“There is no crime in that.”
She shook her head and then attempted to scurry past him. But she ran into the edge of that heavily muscled arm, stumbling forward and dropping the armful of clothes in her hand.
“Easy,” Matías said.
Then, much to her horror, before she could act he bent down and collected her clothing. And that pale, taupe-colored medical bandage had somehow risen to the top. Obvious, she thought.
Matías frowned. “Are you injured?”
“I...”
