“I don’t like it, Chelsea.” Judd Bradley sat up in his threadbare recliner and looked his oldest daughter straight in the eyes. “You made good money at that office job in town, and Aden likes school here. Why on God’s green earth would you want back in that cutthroat horse business?”
Chelsea looked around the outdated den with its orange shag carpet, and wood paneled walls, trying to check back her growing frustration. She snatched the empty tea glass from the table beside her father and headed to the kitchen. Since her mother’s death, she’d found it difficult not to take care of her father. “I knew you wouldn’t understand,” she said, returning to the room with the glass of cold, amber colored liquid. “But, this is my second chance. I want to teach Aden to reach for his goals, and I can’t do that sitting in an office all day.”
“Is all this craziness really about Aden, or is it about Chase?” Her father had always known how to hit where it hurt. She winced at the low blow to her dignity.
“This is my chance to start over. Eric Chandler offered me more than I can make at KGI. Even with promotions, and bonuses. He wants me groomed to be the next trainer.”
“What kind of place is it? Larger than Camelot?” His eyes flickered with interest.
“Much larger. Chandler owns three hundred acres, mostly pasture. There’s a stable with an attached arena, and two training barns on either side of an outdoor ring. Mr Chandler lives on the property in a house on the back, and some of the grooms share a house near the main road.”
“You’re going to share a house with the grooms?” Her father’s interest turned to shock, then anger.
“No,” she corrected, holding back annoyance from her voice. “There is a small apartment off the back of one of the barns. Mr Chandler said it needs some fixing up, but as soon as I take over as trainer I can have it―a perk of the job.”
“And where’re you planning to live with my grandson until then?” He scowled, making her feel ten years old.
She folded her arms over her pulsating chest. “There’s an extended stay motel a few miles from the farm.”
“No!” he shouted, not letting her finish. “No daughter of mine is shacking up in a motel with my only grandchild.”
“Let me finish.” She held him in the chair with a raised hand. “It’s clean and respectable and it’s just until I save up enough to get an apartment in town.” Her tone brooked no argument.
“What about Chase? Does he not have a say in where his son lives?” Judd leaned forward in his recliner, clenching his teeth.
Would he care if he did? The last official dealing the unsympathetic man had with his son was to sign a check for their one time settlement payment. It was enough to send Aden to college and a little more for emergencies. Chelsea had vowed not to touch the money for any other reason.
“Chase hasn’t seen his son in two years, and I’m doing this with your blessing or without.” She held her stance steady, hoping for her father’s approval. It would make things easier to know she had him to back her up.
Judd shifted in his seat by the bay window. He scratched the top of his balding head then picked up the tea glass and drained it with one gulp.
“I don’t like it,” he said, looking at her and dropping his shoulders in defeat. “I don’t like it one bit, but I can’t stop you.”
Chelsea held back a silent cheer. The worried expression sketched across his face warned her there was more to his argument. “I can’t stop you, but let me keep Aden. He’s made friends here. He has roots.”
“Absolutely not.” She stepped closer to the recliner and leaned over her father’s large frame. Judd stood, pulling his pants up from the waist and shoving his weight in her direction with authority. “How do you plan to watch him while you’re working? A horse farm is no place to raise a boy. He needs a man’s influence.”
“He’ll be in school,” Chelsea answered, backing down from her father by one step.
Judd closed the distance between them. “School’s over in two weeks. He’ll spend the whole summer cooped up in your motel room. The boy needs to be with his peers.”
It would make things easier, Chelsea thought, fighting her growing unease. A horse farm wasn’t a place to raise a seven-year-old. He’d be safe with her father, and he had a point. Aden did need a man in his life.
“I get him on weekends,” she said, putting a hand on her father’s shoulder. “I’ll pick him up after my lessons on Friday and bring him back in time for Sunday dinner. Eric has a granddaughter old enough to babysit and I’ll be in an apartment soon.”
Judd lowered his head and gave a slow nod. “He’ll be home from school in an hour. I think it’d be best if you told him.” Her father looked out the front door at the overgrown lawn. Work had always been his way of dealing with things. As soon as she agreed, he’d be outside on his tractor cutting the lawn until he saw her dark blue sedan pull down the driveway and head towards town again.
“I will,” she said.
“And he’s been invited to a birthday party this weekend. Your sister can take him while you’re settling in.”
“Thanks, Dad.” She felt him pat her hand resting on his shoulder then watched him walk out the door and down the steps to the yard. He was a man of few words but when he spoke she listened. He’d taken her leaving better than expected, but his fear of losing her hung heavy on her heart.
* * * *
Chelsea received the warm hug of gratitude from August Compton after their lesson a few days later. The sheepish young girl had taken quite a while to warm up, but once she did, their friendship had bloomed.
“I’ll see you next week,” she called to the girl and her mother as they left the indoor arena, heading to a burgundy minivan in the far parking area. August waved again, and threatened to return with another hug, before her mother commanded her into the van. The mom-mobile sputtered on the gravel road as August waved again.
It had only been two weeks since she’d first set foot on Brigadoon Farms. In that time Chelsea had managed to take over the riding lessons, sign up three new families for the riding program, and call Molly’s husband when her water broke on the farm. Most importantly, she’d completely avoided another run-in with Steven Bradshaw.
Avoiding the man had been like escaping the sun in the heat of summer. At first Molly had made for a great deterrent.
“We dated a few years ago,” Molly had explained while giving Steven a cool stare from the door of the main arena as she showed Chelsea around on her first official day. “Nowadays he keeps out of my arena while I’m teaching, and I don’t set foot in his training barn. Our unspoken line of truce.”
Now, with Molly out of the equation until after her maternity leave, Chelsea hoped to keep the same agreement.
She checked the clock above the wide picture window looking into Molly’s office and gasped at the time. In a little less than ten minutes, the Johnson twins would arrive for their group lesson with the Patterson girl. Why Molly had decided to group the three troublemakers in the same class was beyond her. Maybe it was Molly’s way of ending her misery quickly. On the brighter side, Chelsea remembered, taking Perry and Bounty from their stalls just beyond the barn office and leading them to the arena, she had dinner plans tonight . The thought of the invitation to the Chandlers’ house excited her in so many ways.
“Ms Chelsea, Ms Chelsea.” One of the twins, though she couldn’t be sure which, had escaped from his father and was headed through the arena door, running full blast in her direction. She threw a hand up in defense, stopping the red haired boy in his tracks.
“Mark!” his father yelled soon after appearing in the open doorway. Glad to know now which of the rambunctious Johnson twins she had halted, she lowered her gaze to look in his wild untamed eyes.
“Mark. Do you remember last week when I told you we have to be quiet around the horses?”
The boy broke into a wide grin that stretched across each freckled cheek. “Yes, Ma’am. They get scared, like me and Tom do at loud noises. I remember.”
“That’s right.” She ran her hand through the thick mound of curls on top of the boy’s head.
“I get Bounty today,” Tom cried, making his way to the horse tied to a rail. Tom’s fiery red hair, several shades darker than his brother’s, danced and bobbed when he ran. Chelsea struggled through the argument between the twins, a repeat from the week before, and settled on letting the boys switch horses midway through the lesson. Their father, Liam, stayed just long enough to see the boys mounted then ducked into the office for coffee and to catch up on his newspaper.
Amber Patterson showed up a few minutes later, settled on riding Orchard Blast, and had already designated herself the princess of the riding ring when Chelsea heard Steven’s voice from the open office door.
Tom and Mark giggled when Amber called Orchard her flying unicorn and tried to will the half ton animal off the ground with a kick of her hot pink cowboy boots. Chelsea watched the three trotting around the ring and wondered if any of them would take riding as seriously as she had at their age.
“See you Friday,” Steven called back to the office while he crossed the ring to where Chelsea stood dead center.
Goose bumps broke over her exposed arms at the sound of his deep voice coming closer. His dark maroon polo and tight fitted jeans looked too clean for working in the training barn all day. Then the smell of soap caught up to her when he stopped in front of her.
“Liam bought those boys a horse yesterday.” He didn’t take his eyes off of hers. His audacity frustrated her. She struggled to unlock his stare long enough to check on the students who were still circling the ring and laughing.
“And?” she said. “Tom, slow down and keep to the rail!” she shouted over Steven’s shoulder.
“And.” He laughed in a harsh tone. “You’re going with me to pick him up.”
Her eyes shot to his. Alone with him? Not on her life. Not after their disagreement in the wash pit.
“I have lessons,” she said, then barked for Amber to keep her reins tight and post the trot.
“Not on Friday afternoons.”
“I have another obligation.”
“Not one I know about?”
Did he really think he knew everything? She instructed the students to bring their horses to the walk then turned her eyes on him. Her hands clenched into fists and anger rolled in her stomach.
“What I do on my time is my business, Mr Bradshaw. Now, I have a lesson to finish before dinner, and you’re standing in my way.”
She shifted to the side, but he didn’t move.
“And it’s my job to make sure our customers are satisfied.” His lips curled slightly at the corners, making her blood pump hot and fast. “Liam requested you pick up his new horse.”
Liam and the boys came closer and Steven shielded their conversation with his shoulder.
“Where is the horse?” Chelsea asked.
“Lexington County.”
The small tobacco community was only a twenty minute drive from her father’s house. With any luck she could pick Aden up on the way back.
“What time?” She sucked in a cool breath.
“Meet me by the truck at three.” He turned for the door, his eyes dancing in victory and a wide grin breaking across his stubbled face. Then, he vanished out the side door with little more than a wave in Liam’s direction.
Chelsea called her class to the center of the ring, had the group dismount, and watched the children lead horses more than twice their height to their stalls.
“Did you hear, Ms Chelsea?” Tom came running from his stall, halter in hand. “We’re getting our own horse.” A wide smile spread on the boy's face reminded her of Aden. The sudden desire to see her son that happy stung.
“I’m happy for you.” She bent down to the boy’s level and allowed him to wrap two long, scrawny arms around her neck. Mark followed suit, then ran to his father, standing in the hall. Liam picked the boy up in his arms, gave him a kiss on the cheek and walked over to pull Tom from around Chelsea’s neck. Seeing the love the boys had for their father made her heart hurt. More
than anything, Aden deserved to have that connection with a man. Her father tried, and did a good job of raising the boy with her, but Aden needed a younger man. Someone he could relate to. Someone like Liam Johnson who could teach him the ropes.
“Ms Bradley.” Liam bent down, allowing Tom to slide out of his arms and to the ground. “I hope the horse isn’t an inconvenience for you. I heard some of your conversation with Steven.”
Mortified, she covered her gaping mouth with her hand. The kind look in Liam’s eyes told her he was more concerned than condemning. Aden could learn so much from this man.
“Not at all,” she answered, relieved to see the man smile. “I have an errand to run in that part of the state. Picking up the horse will be no problem.”
She waved goodbye to the boys then went to check on Amber. The girl in the hot pink boots was brushing Orchard’s mane, telling him about flying with the clouds, and how one day she’d have enough magic powers to give him wings.
Her mother smiled and Chelsea let a chuckle escape her lips.
* * * *
“Don’t let him under your skin.” Nicky Chandler took another sip of red wine then passed a playful smile to her daughter, Sadie, at the other end of the dinner table later that night. The Chandlers’ dining room reminded Chelsea of her own in the house she’d shared with Chase. The oblong, mahogany table was covered with a white linen cloth. Bone china platters flanked crystal glasses, and held a wide assortment of food.
Chelsea marveled at her luck making fast friends with Eric’s only daughter, Nicky, and now getting the inside scoop on the workings of the farm.
“Steven’s got one thing on his mind these days, and that’s taking this place over when my father retires.”
Chelsea gave Steven a sideways glance from across the table. He looked like he fit right in with the Chandler family. Sadie said something that brought a smile to his narrow face and made his eyes light up. Eric had slapped him on the back at least a dozen times before dinner and referred to him as
“my boy”. Mrs Potts, the housekeeper and all around caretaker, even seemed entranced by the man. Nicky seemed to be the only member of the Chandler family not taken in by Steven’s charms.
“Don’t get me wrong, the guy does his fair share to keep this place alive,” Nicky added when Sadie looked away. “He’s the only reason Papa’s been able to keep it for so long. And Sadie adores him.”
The young girl of sixteen looked to the man on her right with a love-struck expression. In the eyes of a child he might seem godly, but not in those of a mature woman. His overgrown brown hair hung loose around the lapel of his brown cord jacket. He’d shaved the stubble growing for more than a week, revealing the ridged, but smooth, jaw line underneath. He did clean up well. Chelsea had to let herself admit that.
“Sadie tells me she used to babysit for some of the boarders on the weekends.” Chelsea changed the subject, taking a slab of beef from the platter circling the dinner table. The scent of the meat reminded her of Christmas dinners when her mother had still been alive. Nicky nodded, keeping her eyes on her daughter. “That’s right. Father told me you had a son. Aden, is it? How old is he?”
“Seven.” Chelsea lowered her voice, keeping anyone around her from hearing. “I’m going to get him from my father tomorrow for the weekend. Do you think Sadie would mind watching him in the mornings while I teach?”
Nicky took another sip of wine. Her eyes stayed transfixed on her daughter. Chelsea couldn’t blame her. The girl’s shoulder length blond hair and pale skin reminded her of the cherub picture her father kept over the guest bed back in Portsmouth.
“I doubt she’ll mind. She loves children.”
“I’ll ask her after dinner, just to make sure.” Chelsea put a forkful of salad in her mouth and watched the man at the end of the table doting over the young girl at his side. How was he the same man who had practically impaled her to the stall wall in the barn that first day?
Maybe her first impression had been raw. Nicky had said he was under pressure to take over. Did he see her as a threat? Or was she a liability? Whatever his reason, she needed this job and his six- foot-five stature wasn’t going to stand in her way. She’d make that clear on their way to pick up the new gelding. She was off limits, and so was Aden.
* * * *
Steven tried, but he could only pick at the hot roast beef and hash on his plate. The thought of scaring the woman beside Nicky disgusted him. The look in her eyes, the shake of her thin, lanky frame, the shiver of her voice as she scolded him. He had lost his temper, but she had stood her ground.
The embarrassment of being wrong had flooded his judgment. Or, was it the awkward feeling he had around her? Her long, silky, tan legs, coming out from under that short black skirt, had caught his attention, much like they did tonight. She didn’t have much of a wardrobe past the faded jeans and fitted tanks she wore for lessons, but she knew how to fill out every inch of them. The pale yellow sundress she wore now accented her sun-bleached hair and tanned shoulders. What he could do with those shoulders and those legs in bed.
Sadie put a hand on his, and the indecent thoughts vanished by sheer will.
“She’s so pretty, don’t you think?” The young girl flipped her pale hair over her shoulder and looked at him with dazed eyes. The question was a trick. He knew women well enough to catch that one. Sadie had harbored a crush on him for as long as she’d known what the word meant. He tried to tread lightly with her, but the admiration stroked his ego.
“Yeah, but I’ve seen better.” He winked at the girl, now glowing with blush and lust. It was a horrible torment to have a crush. He’d had his fair share as a boy. Nicky shot a sharp glare in his direction―a warning. He pushed his chair from the table and put his napkin on his full plate.
“Did you get enough?” Eric leaned over the table.
So much for a quick escape.
“You barely touched your plate,” Mrs Potts added.
“It was great, Beatrice. I’ve got that mare on my mind. She’ll foal any day now.”
The excuse seemed to pacify everyone except Chelsea. Her frosted green eyes read through his story. “See you later, kid.” He lowered his head so only Sadie could hear then retrieved his ball cap from the back of his chair and made his way over to the housekeeper, planting a kiss on her cheek.
“It’ll keep until tomorrow, I reckon.” She patted his hand resting on her shoulder. “Do you like roast beef sandwiches, Ms Bradley?”
Chelsea’s eyes shot to the housekeeper at the mention of her name, and then softened to a smile.
“I’ll make some for you two for your trip tomorrow. No sense in wasting all this good meat.”
Steven barked a laugh, then patted the silver haired woman on the shoulder again. She’d been more of a mother than his own over the past eight years. He hated to see her worry, and made a mental note to eat a hearty breakfast for her in the morning, just to please her. He had just finished checking on Jezebel in the paddock beside the second small training facility a few minutes later, when Chelsea walked past the open gate and right to him. The fear in her eyes from their first meeting had vanished. He thanked God for that. The last thing he ever wanted to do was scare a woman. At least not like that.
“How long do you think she has?” Chelsea asked, rubbing the mare’s nose and allowing the animal to breathe in her scent.
“A day, maybe two. Hard to tell, the way she’s carrying low like that.” He watched Chelsea trace the mare’s wide belly with one finger. Under different circumstances, he wouldn’t mind her touching him like that. He wouldn’t mind touching her, either.
“What if she foals while you’re gone?” Her eyes glowed in the dim light of dusk. “Maybe you should stay behind tomorrow. Keep an eye on her. I’m sure Mario or one of the grooms could ride with me. I’ve loaded enough horses in my time.” She kept rubbing the mare, now up to her withers. The horse twisted her neck and bit at the air.
He had hoped she’d come to forge a truce. But he could read women, and this one was trying her hardest to get him out of going to Lexington.
“She’ll keep until we get back. We’ll have plenty of time.” He watched the glow of her eyes smolder and surrender in defeat.
“Well.” She gave the mare a generous pat on the back. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Three, right?”
He nodded. The pit of his stomach turned, thinking of the way he’d acted the first time they’d met.
“Hey,” he called when she’d cleared the gate. “The other day. It won’t happen again.”
She pulled a long blade of grass from the ground and twisted it around her finger before turning back to him. Her pale hair floated around her face in the light summer breeze. The thin sundress danced around well-defined curves and over shapely hips before hugging her waist like the cinch of a rope. God she was beautiful―too beautiful to ever be his. That thought alone made him wish for things he’d considered lost to him. Things which only men without pasts were entitled to.