nodded, walking down the fence line to turn on a few lights. He hung back, curious to see the exchange between Fester and the only human the horse had acknowledged favorably.
“Should I do anything?” She glanced back at him, hesitating.
“No,” Archer said. “There’s a fence between you. He just wants you close.”
“Do you?” she asked Fester, her voice soft and calm—not high-pitched or affected but inviting and warm.
Fester stretched his head out, and Eden stepped closer.
Archer was in shock. Not only did Fester clearly adore the woman, Eden seemed to understand exactly what Fester needed. She didn’t reach for him, she simply stood and let the horse nicker and blow against her chest and neck. She didn’t try to touch his nose or rub the horse’s face. She might not realize that was significant, but he did. A person didn’t like a stranger touching their face. Neither did most horses. Somehow, Eden Caraway understood that.
“Hi,” she said softly. “Thank you for walking me here.”
Archer draped his arm on the top rail of the wooden fence, resting his chin. What the hell? Maybe Renata was right? Maybe Fester recognized something in Eden that brought him pleasure. Whatever it was, it made him happy to see Fester so content. This was what he wanted for all the horses that came through the refuge. A sense of comfort and belonging.
The shrill chirp of a cell phone split the night. Fester jerked his head back, his chin clipping the side of Eden’s head as the horse startled.
“Are you okay?” Archer asked, instantly at her side.
“I’m fine.” She was rubbing her head. “It’s not his fault.” She pressed her hand to her forehead. “It spooked me, too.”
He liked the way she defended Fester. “We should probably get you some ice. Just in case.”
“I’m fine,” she argued, waving him away before she pulled her cell phone from her pocket. “Yes?” she answered.
Archer stared at her. She’d dismissed him.
“When did this happen?” There was no sign of the calm and controlled Eden Caraway now. “He just left?” Her tone was razor-edged as she stalked the length of the fence. “I can’t... Oh, Clara.”
He saw her shoulders droop. Saw Fester clop down the fence line to nicker at her.
“No, of course. We’ll make it work. I’ll book the first flight out tomorrow. Give them kisses for me, Clara.” She hung up the phone, leaning her head against Fester’s broad nose without thought.
“There a problem?” he asked, bracing himself. He’d do whatever he could to make her stay. He needed her help.
“No.” She collected herself, her posture stiffening and her voice deadpan once more. “No problem at all. I do, however, need to get to the Lodge. I have some personal business to attend to.”
Archer nodded. “Nothing that will interfere with your work, I hope?” If he sounded callous, it wasn’t intentional.
She shook her head, not bothering to make eye contact as she brushed past him. “Not at all.”
He sighed, relief washing over him. She was staying, and he would be ready to convince Mr. Monroe that his continued support of the refuge was essential for expansion. “I’ll take you to the Lodge,” he said, the weight of his deadline easing for the first time since he’d received Monroe’s letter.
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