Callie opened her mouth to speak but quickly stopped. She was suddenly tongue-tied, stripped of her usual ability to speak her mind. Her cheeks flamed and thankfully her silence didn’t last long. “Are you always so … so rude?”
He smiled as though he found her anger amusing. “And do you always allow your students to walk around unsupervised?”
“No,” she replied, burning up. “But you’re not in possession of all the facts.”
He watched her for a moment, every gorgeous inch of him focused on her, and she experienced a strange dip in the pit of her stomach, like she was riding a roller coaster way too fast.
“Then please … enlighten me,” he said quietly.
Callie bit her temper back. “When Lily arrived early I told her to wait for me. She didn’t.”
“And that’s when she took your horse?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell her to get off?”
“I did,” Callie replied. “Although I’ve discovered that sometimes its better practice to let people find out just how—”
“You mean the hard way?” he asked, cutting her off again.
Callie nodded. “But she wasn’t in any danger. Indiana wouldn’t have hurt her.”
“Just for the record,” he said quietly—so quietly Callie knew he was holding himself in control—”Lily knows all about hard life lessons.”
She’s not the only one.
Good sense thankfully prevailed and she kept her cool. “I’m sorry you had a reason to be concerned about her safety,” she said quietly. “I had no idea she would do something like that.”
“Did it occur to you to call me?” he asked. “I did leave you my cell number when I first phoned you. Lily arrived two hours early—didn’t that set off some kind of alarm bell?”
“She said you’d told her the wrong time.”
“Does that seem likely? This arrangement won’t work out,” he said before she could respond. “I’ll find another instructor for Lily—one who can act responsibly.”
His words stung. But Callie had no illusions about Lily Preston. The girl was trouble. And she certainly didn’t want to have anything more to do with the man in front of her. Despite the fact her dormant libido had suddenly resurfaced and seemed to be singing, pick me, pick me!
She wanted to challenge him there and then to who was the responsible one—her for taking her eyes off Lily for a matter of minutes or him for clearly having little control over his daughter. But she didn’t. Think about the business. Think about the horses. The last run-in she had with a parent had cost her nearly a quarter of her students and she was still struggling to recoup her losses. Three months earlier Callie had caught two students breaking the rules and had quickly cancelled all lessons with the troublesome sisters. But the girls’ mother had other ideas, and she’d threatened to lodge a formal complaint with the Equestrian Federation. It could have led to the suspension of her instructor’s license. Of course Callie could still teach without it, but her credentials were important to her. And she didn’t want that kind of trouble again.
“That’s your decision.”
He didn’t say another word. He just turned on his heels and walked away.
Callie slumped back against a fence post. Moments later she heard the rumble of an engine and didn’t take a breath until the sound of tires crunching over gravel faded into nothing.
She looked at Indiana. She’d brought the horse with her from California—just Indy and three suitcases containing her most treasured belongings. Indiana had remained quarantined for some time after her arrival. Long enough for Callie to hunt through real estate lists until she’d found the perfect place to start her riding school.
Callie loved Sandhills Farm. Indiana and the rest of her nine horses were her life … her babies. The only babies I’ll have. It made her think of that man and his four children.
A strange sensation uncurled in her chest, reminding her of an old pain—of old wishes and old regrets.
She took Indy’s reins and led him toward the stables. Once he was back in the stall Callie headed for the office. She liked to call it an office, even though it essentially served as a tack room. She’d added a desk, a filing cabinet and a modest computer setup.
Joe, her part-time farmhand, had arrived and began the feeding schedule. Callie looked at her appointment book and struck Lily Preston’s name off her daily list. There would be no Lily in her life … and no Lily’s gorgeous father.
She looked around at her ego wall and at the framed photographs she’d hung up in no particular order. Pictures from her past, pictures of herself and Indiana at some of the events they’d competed in.
But not one of Craig.
Because she didn’t want the inevitable inquisition. She didn’t talk about Craig Baxter. Or her past. She’d moved halfway across the world to start her new life. Crystal Point had been an easy choice. Her father had been born in the nearby town of Bellandale and Callie remembered the many happy holidays she’d spent there when she was young. It made her feel connected to her Australian roots to make her home in the place where he’d been raised and lived until he was a young man. And although she missed California, this was home now. And she wasn’t about to let that life be derailed by a gorgeous man with sexy green eyes. No chance.
Callie loved yard sales. Late Sunday morning, after her last student left, she snatched a few twenty dollar bills from her desk drawer and whistled Tessa to come to heel as she headed for her truck. The dog quickly leapt into the passenger seat.
The drive into Crystal Point took exactly six minutes. The small beachside community boasted a population of just eight hundred residents and sat at the mouth of the Bellan River, one of the most pristine waterways in the state. On the third Sunday of every month the small community hosted a “trunk and treasure” sale, where anyone who had something to sell could pull up their car, open the trunk and offer their wares to the dozens of potential buyers who rolled up.
The sale was in full swing and Callie parked a hundred yards up the road outside the local grocery store. She opened a window for Tessa then headed inside to grab a soda before she trawled for bargains. The bell dinged as she stepped across the threshold. The shop was small, but crammed with everything from fishing tackle to beach towels and grocery items. There was also an ATM and a pair of ancient fuel pumps outside that clearly hadn’t pumped fuel for years.
“Good morning, Callie.”
“Hi, Linda,” she greeted the fifty-something woman behind the counter, who was hidden from view by a tall glass cabinet housing fried food, pre-packaged sandwiches and cheese-slathered hot dogs.
She picked out a soda and headed for the counter.
Linda smiled. “I hear you had a run-in with Noah Preston yesterday.”
Noah? Was that his name? He’d probably told her when he’d made arrangements for his daughter’s lessons, but Callie
