her with a smile. “I’ve gotta get going. Thanks to Rosie, I’m later for work than usual.”
“I don’t know the first thing about horses,” she confided. “It must be a fun job.”
“Some days yes, some days no. Today we’ve gotta move a dozen or so of our boarders so we can do some maintenance in their barn.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“Nah. We’ve got a real steady Belgian draft horse named Gideon who’s seen it all, so he never gets rattled by anything, no matter how bad the others think it is. My brother Mike just marches him out first, and the rest of them trail after him like puppies.”
She couldn’t help laughing at the picture he painted. “Those are some seriously large puppies.”
“Most of ’em aren’t a problem when you know how to handle ’em. Mike’s some kind of horse whisperer, so the rest of us just follow his lead.”
Although his delivery was upbeat, she picked up on something below the surface that didn’t sound right to her. Inspiration struck, and she asked, “Do you ever get to be in charge when it comes to the horses?”
He looked surprised, then shook his head with a grin. “Man, you’ve got me pegged. The horses are his territory, and I’m more like a foot soldier.”
“What about the rescue center? You seem to know where everything is, so I’m guessing you put in a lot of time over here.”
“I like animals in general,” he said, scratching the head of a nosy miniature alpaca, “so I enjoy working here when I have the time. But Sierra’s in charge.”
“If you could be your own boss, what kind of business would you have?”
“Something outside,” he replied immediately, as if he’d thought about it often enough that the answer came easily to him. “Maybe a wilderness guide out west or something. I visited Mike in New Mexico once, and I couldn’t believe how incredible the desert and the mountains are. Totally different from what I’m used to, but really beautiful.”
His tone had shifted ever so slightly, the gold in his eyes warming as he stared down at her. At first, Bekah couldn’t define what had changed, then she replayed his words in her mind and wondered if he was referring to something other than the Western scenery.
“Anyway,” he went on as if nothing unusual had happened, “Sierra usually comes down to the house for lunch around noon. You’re welcome to join us if you want, meet the rest of our nutty crew.”
Out of necessity, she’d learned not to depend on anyone for anything. But he’d been so kind to her, she decided it was okay to bend that rule just this one time. “Thanks. That sounds good.”
“I’ll see you then.”
Giving her another encouraging smile, he followed Sierra from the shed, leaving Bekah in charge of feeding the babies. Glancing around, she counted heads and came up with twelve. Two down, ten to go. Surrounded by endless noise and questionable smells, she knew that some people might consider this the worst job in the world.
But to Bekah, this little barn tucked into the backwoods of Kentucky was like paradise, protected from the outside world and bursting with promising new lives. She couldn’t imagine any place she’d rather be.
* * *
“Now,” Drew began when he and Sierra were alone out front. “I don’t want to tell you how to run this place...”
“But you want me to hire Bekah,” she finished for him. The doubt in her dark eyes made it clear what she thought of his idea, but she didn’t say anything else.
Two could play that game, Drew mused. Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it, sparring with his last girlfriend had left him a master at verbal fencing. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
Oh, she was good. Warming to the challenge she was laying in front of him, he said, “I’m not sure. I’ve just got a feeling about her.”
“Again? How many is that this year?”
His reputation as a lady killer had been well-earned, and he laughed. “Not that kind of feeling. I mean she seems like she’s had a rough time of it lately, and she needs a safe place to land.”
While his mind accepted that explanation without question, his Irish heart had another idea altogether. This morning, he’d taken a route for his run that he hadn’t used in months and had hit that section of road just after Bekah’s frightening encounter with Rosie. Something—or someone—had brought them together for a reason. He might not understand why just yet, but he couldn’t shake the belief that he and the enigmatic runaway were meant to connect on that lonely back road.
He and Sierra stared at each other for several seconds, until she finally broke the silence. “I don’t know.”
“Aw, come on,” he pleaded, which was a big stretch for him. He made it a point never to want anything so badly he’d get down on his knees for it. But this was different. Every instinct he had was warning him that Bekah was in trouble and needed help. His help. “She stopped to take care of a hawk that dive-bombed her car and scared her half to death. You’ve seen for yourself how great she is with the animals.”
“We’ve stretched our budget as far as it will go this year. I can’t pay her much more than nothing until January.”
“I don’t think that’s an issue for her. She just needs a job.”
“We don’t know anything about her. She could be in trouble, or running from the police or something.”
The image of that fading bruise refused to leave him alone, and he frowned. “She’s definitely running from something, but my gut tells me it’s not the law.”
“Are you kidding me? I’m supposed to hire someone for a sensitive job like this based on your gut?”
She had a point, he had to admit, and knowing his family, they’d agree with her. Then a solution hit him. “I’ve got a buddy who works in the county sheriff’s office. I can have him run a background check on her, off the record. Would that make you feel better?”
“I guess.”
He could tell he had her on the ropes. Sierra was a caring soul with a generous heart, and he knew she felt genuine sympathy for their mysterious visitor. Now to knock her over the edge and get a full-on yes for his true plan. “One more thing.”
“Here it comes,” she grumbled, glaring up at him. It was a good thing they were such solid friends, or he’d have been worried she might smack him. “What?”
“Judging by the condition her car’s in, I’m pretty sure she needs a place to stay.”
“Don’t look at me like that, Lancelot,” Sierra retorted crisply. “My studio apartment’s more like a closet with a futon in it.”
“Okay, then I’ll ask Mom. I’m sure she can find a spot for Bekah at the house till we come up with something better.”
“Like
