Rick Darcy. I got chores to do.”
“Yes, sir.” Darcy dashed down the steps behind him and leaped into his truck to follow the man to Braybourne Farm.
Tater O’Neill’s truck picked up speed on the way out of town, leading Darcy up and down gentle hills, past some surprising, jutting limestone cliffs, then through a woods. Just when Darcy was wondering why this was still considered part of the bluegrass area, the woods parted to reveal wide pastures and farms. Tater turned into a driveway. A white gate swung open automatically to reveal a long road that led to a white house, barn and stable complex, all decorated with dark green trim.
Darcy stared at the sprawling farmhouse. It was slightly shabby, but charming gable windows and a big front porch with flowering vines climbing up the posts made up for that. This place was nowhere near as luxurious as what he was used to, which in itself was a surprising relief. Here he could really be a normal guy.
His stomach clenched again with anticipation. Something momentous was going to happen; he could almost see the hand of fate…. Then he shook his head, marveling at his idiocy. His cousin would probably tell him that anyone could imagine anything in order to justify doing exactly what they wanted to do. As Darcy stopped the truck near the stables and looked around, he had to agree. He didn’t know what awaited him here, but he was about to find out. He set the brake, jumped from the truck and followed Tater inside the dim barn. The air was cooler in there and filled with the mingled scents of hay, feed and horses.
“Well, Darcy…” Tater waved his hand. “This here is home.”
Darcy’s eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness and he looked around. The stables were neat and well ordered, with the names of each horse printed on a decorative board above its stall. As Darcy took stock of his surroundings a few horses came to gaze curiously over their gates. Fewer than he might have expected from the number of stalls. He glanced at Tater.
“We had a few hard years here and had to sell some of the stock. Hell of a shame.” Tater reached to scratch behind the ears of a glossy chestnut mare. “We had one colt that had wings for feet. He might a’ done the Derby job for us, but…what is, is.”
“Tater? Tater, have you seen…” A big voice echoed through the stables, followed by a tall, powerfully built, silver-haired man. His left arm was in a cast and he leaned on a cane as he limped down the stable corridor toward them. He stopped and stared at Darcy, his sharp gaze slicing into him.
Tater stepped forward. “Harden Braybourne, this here’s Darcy, Rick Darcy. Just got into town. Says he knows horses and is looking for work. I brought him out to talk about his qualifications, before we go further.”
“Hmm…” Harden nodded, his gaze sweeping over him from top to bottom. “You got the look of a horseman, young fella.”
Suddenly a bit nervous, Darcy met the man’s firm stare. “Thank you, sir.”
“Been around them long?”
“All my life. My grandfather was one of the best horsemen I ever knew. I hope I take after him.” And not just in his handling of horses, either. The thought surprised him.
“Well, do you?” Harden asked in a dry tone.
“I’m working on it,” Darcy said.
Harden gave a bark of laughter. “Well, that’s honest, at any rate.” He gave him another long, penetrating look before he said, “Let’s go into the manager’s office and you can fill us in on your experience. Tater probably told you we need some help.”
“Yes, sir.” Darcy reached to steady Harden as he turned and stumbled.
“Don’t do that, boy, I’m not that old. I had an accident is all.”
Darcy pretended to kick something to the side, plastering his most diplomatic expression on his face. “There’s a rock here. I didn’t want your cane to land on top of it and send you sprawling to land on top of me.” He grinned. “You’re a pretty big man.”
Tater winked at Darcy as he opened a door to the left. “Right in here.”
Darcy followed the two older men inside, and with an unaccustomed knot in his stomach, prepared to cross his fingers and give a brief and slightly embellished story of his life and career to date. As he answered Harden’s probing questions, he silently thanked his grandfather for working his butt off on the horse farm when he was a young boy. He must have absorbed more knowledge than he thought. A half hour later he and Harden were shaking hands. Darcy was hired as temporary manager of Braybourne Farm.
“You understand it’s just till I get back on my feet and can take over again,” Harden said as they emerged from the office. “Should be a couple of months on the outside. Meanwhile, Tater and Billy and Ed will be helping you.”
“Don’t forget Silver,” Tater murmured.
Harden frowned. “Silver is going to get married soon.”
“She is?” Tater exclaimed. “Says who? Silver didn’t tell me nothin’ about that and I just seen her this—”
“Well, there’s nothing definite, so I wouldn’t go asking her about it,” Harden cautioned. “But I got it on good authority that John Tom Thomas is that far—” he held his fingers one-eighth of an inch apart “—from popping the question.” Harden set his face in a mulish expression, blustering, “I can’t see any reason she wouldn’t accept him. He’s well-off, from a first-rate family, good-looking and—”
“He puts me to sleep every time he opens his mouth, Daddy.” A female voice floated through the stables.
Surprised, Darcy looked toward the doorway, but the light was behind the woman who stood just inside. All he could see was a tall slim silhouette with a cloud of platinum-blond hair that glowed like a halo. He stared at the hair. This must be why she was called Silver. He glanced over at Harden, who was now looking a bit flustered.
“Damn you, girl. Where’d you come from? Why don’t you make a bit of noise instead of sneaking up on people?”
The woman walked forward, her gait as smooth and fluid as a prime show horse…or a Vegas chorus girl. She had the body for Vegas—the long long legs, slim hips, full high breasts just suggested by an expensively cut summer suit the color of orange sherbet. Lord, but Darcy loved cool women with hellfire and heat underneath. Darcy didn’t know why she gave him that impression, but she did. Maybe it was the direct, challenging look she gave him, or the slight pout on her full lips. Cool, cool ice ready to melt. His gut twisted and his mouth watered. He wanted to lick her all over. The surge of lust took him completely by surprise and he glanced at the two older men, hoping his desire wasn’t written on his face.
“I didn’t sneak. I roared up and parked my car right outside behind that old pickup truck. Whose is it, anyway?”
Darcy hid a grin. She could see him perfectly well, but she wasn’t going to acknowledge him until she was forced to, a time-honored feminine play to get the upper hand. Funny, he didn’t think he looked like much of a threat, but maybe that moment of sheer sexual awareness hadn’t been one-sided. As intense as it was, he sure as hell hoped not. Ready to play, he nodded his head in mock deference.
“It belongs to me, Miss Braybourne. I’m sorry if it’s in your way. I can move it.”
“I
