“What is it, Em?” Nick winced at the sound of his voice. Hoarse, breathless, it sounded as if he’d swallowed a chunk of concrete.
The older woman stood twenty feet away, her hands on her hips, looking at him as if he’d just landed his spaceship at the end of the driveway. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said primly.
Nick didn’t move. He couldn’t get any closer, not without her noticing his state of arousal. “You didn’t interrupt anything,” he said.
“Uh-huh.”
Uncomfortable, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “McNeal and I were just talking.”
“I figured it was something like that.” Mrs. Thornsberry clucked her tongue. “Steph asked for you.”
Concern and a hefty jab of guilt stabbed through him. His daughter had been upset. She needed him. And here he was making out with one of his deputies in the driveway.
“Is she all right?” he asked quickly.
“She’s fine. She’s waiting for you out by the garage.”
“By the garage?” It was nearly her bedtime. What was she doing out by the garage?
“Good night, Nick,” the nanny said.
Feeling like a kid who’d just ticked off his mom and would have hell to pay in the coming days, he watched her walk away.
“I’ve got to go.”
Nick turned at the sound of Erin’s voice. She stood next to her cruiser, her eyes dark and cautious in the moonlight, her lips glistening. He could still feel the pressure of her mouth against his, recall the sweet smell of her breath, the scent of her hair. The memory sent another rush of blood to his groin.
What had he done? Why did he keep making the same mistake over and over when it came to this woman? She wasn’t right for him. She wasn’t right for Steph. Erin was wild and impulsive and would end up breaking both their hearts. So why couldn’t he keep his hands off her?
“Uh…” Nick resisted the urge to rearrange himself. He was still painfully aroused, his body screaming for release. He was going to have to start dating. Take up running. Cold showers. Maybe he’d just shoot himself in the foot. Anything but get involved with Erin McNeal.
“Steph asked for me,” he said. “I’ve got to go.”
Without speaking, Erin opened the car door and slipped inside. Nick approached, not sure what he was going to say, knowing he couldn’t let what had just happened between them go without explanation. “McNeal.”
She slammed the car door, then lowered the window. “Tell Steph I’m sorry about the basketball, will you, Nick?”
“Sure.” He leaned down. “Erin…”
“You don’t have to say it.” She started the engine.
Nick figured he didn’t have a choice but to say what needed to be said. “This can’t happen again.”
“I know. I shouldn’t have come here tonight.”
He grimaced. “Probably not.”
Her flinch was barely perceptible, but Nick saw it, and he hated that she was paying the price for his own lack of control.
“I’m turning the remainder of your training over to Hector,” he said. “I think we should steer clear of each other for a while. This isn’t fair to either of us.” He wasn’t exactly sure what “this” was, but knew it was something they shouldn’t be partaking in, no matter how good she felt in his arms.
“Of course. I agree.” She said the words a little too quickly and with a little too much enthusiasm.
Nick didn’t want to debate the issue. His body sure didn’t agree, but he let the statement stand. Straightening, he stepped away from the car. Without looking at him, she put the car in gear and drove away.
He watched the taillights disappear, aware that his heart was beating too fast, that his palms were wet with sweat. He refused to believe anything had happened between them that didn’t have to do with hormones or three years of celibacy. Nothing happened, he told himself. Not a damn thing.
Starting toward the house, he shut out the annoying little voice in the back of his mind that called him a liar.
He strode toward the front door, intent on spending a few minutes with Steph before bedtime, but the unmistakable sound of a basketball against concrete stopped him. Curious, he skirted the sidewalk and peered around the side of the house, where a spotlight illuminated the portion of the driveway he’d concreted back when she’d first started playing basketball. Stephanie sat in her wheelchair, the bright orange basketball Erin had bought her poised in her hands, her determined gaze glued to the rusty hoop above the garage door. Concentration scrunched her features as she judged the distance between ball and hoop. An instant later, she leaned forward, thrust the ball upward and let it roll off her fingertips in a perfect arc. Nick held his breath. The ball bounced off the rim.
“Oh shoot!” she said, as the ball hit the concrete.
The sight of his little girl shooting baskets shouldn’t have moved him so profoundly. But as he watched her push her wheelchair forward to catch the ball, then lean forward and prepare for another shot, his heart convulsed in his chest. The ensuing jab of pain took his breath.
She needs to live her life to the fullest, risks be damned.
Erin’s words rang uncomfortably in his ears. She was wrong, Nick assured himself. Stephanie needed protecting. If he’d been there for her the night of the accident she wouldn’t be in that wheelchair.
Needing a moment to rein in his emotions, he leaned against the side of the house, telling himself he wasn’t overprotective. Steph needed someone to look after her. Someone to keep her safe. Someone to keep her from getting hurt again.
After a moment, Nick approached his daughter. He smiled, but his face felt plastic and he feared she would see straight through him. His little girl had become increasingly perceptive in the last couple of years.
She looked at him from beneath her lashes and grinned. “I missed my shot.”
Nick swallowed, terrified the emotion crowding his throat would overtake him. “I saw that.”
“I’m sorry I was so mean to Erin.”
“Erin’s fine. She understands and told me it’s okay if you don’t want the basketball. She’ll get you something else.”
Stephanie lifted the ball to him. “I never noticed this when she first gave it to me. Check it out, Dad.”
Nick looked down at the orange globe. Pain broke apart and scattered deep in his chest at the sight of his daughter’s name scrawled in sweeping black handwriting above the autograph of a popular Chicago Bulls player.
“Well, I’ll be,” he muttered.
“Pretty cool, huh? How’d Erin know he’s my favorite player?”
Nick didn’t know what to say. Not to his daughter. Certainly not to Erin, who must have driven more than two hundred miles, plus somehow wrangled a personalized autograph.
Stephanie looked down at the ball in her hands. “I was thinking about what she said.”
“What’s that?”
“About…you know, wheelchair basketball. I saw these guys playing on TV, but I didn’t think I could ever do it.”
“You can do anything you want, honeybunch.”
“Well, I thought maybe I could, you know, take some lessons or something. I used to be a pretty good player.”
“You sure that’s a good idea?”
“My back doesn’t hurt that much, if that’s what you’re worried about. Maybe we could ask Dr. Brooks.”
Nick cleared his throat, hoping his voice wouldn’t break and reveal the pain in his heart. “It’s past your bedtime, honeybunch.”
She cocked her head. The movement made her look like she was six again and challenging his authority, as she had so many times over the years. “Will you at least think about it?”
He stared at her, shaken and so full of love for this child that he ached with the need to hold her and keep her safe. Another part of him wanted desperately to make her happy—to let her play basketball and do all the things a little girl should be able to do. For the first time since the accident, he wondered if one was at odds with the other. He wondered if Erin McNeal was right.
“I’ll think about it as long as you promise not to become a professional basketball player,” he said after a moment. “I couldn’t handle you being on the road for long stretches.”
She turned thoughtful. “You think professional players miss their dads when they’re on the road?”
“You would.” Grinning, Nick leaned forward and tugged gently on her ear. “But I’d miss you more.”
Wheeling the chair back, Stephanie bounced the ball toward him. “So, I can take lessons?”
Nick caught the ball, but couldn’t bring himself to bounce it back to her. “I’ll think about it, sweetheart, all right?”
“Promise me you’ll think hard about it, Dad, okay?”
“I promise.”
* * *
Erin sat at her desk and stared out the front window of the police station, trying not to think about Nick—and failing miserably. Frowning, she looked down at the blur of forms and reports spread out in front of her, and typed a line of information into her computer. Unable to drum up the least bit of enthusiasm for her work, she resumed her vigil of watching the cars as they drove down Commerce Street. She’d been hard at it since seven that morning—two hours ago—and only sixteen cars had passed. Logan Falls, she thought. Life in the fast lane.
What in the world was she going to do about Nick?
Hector’s philosophy on training new officers differed dramatically from Nick’s. While the chief had started her out with making rounds, Hector preferred to pawn off his paperwork on her, while he did his rounds alone. Erin wasn’t happy about the desk work. On the other hand, she didn’t feel much like company today.
She wanted to blame Nick for her sour mood but knew she had no one to blame but herself—and that blasted kiss. How was it she could build an illustrious career in a police department the size of Chicago’s, yet in her first week in Logan Falls she’d managed to alienate her counterpart, tick off her boss and generally screw up at every turn? What had she been thinking, letting Nick kiss her like that? What on earth had she been doing kissing him back?
She wanted to believe the kiss was a result of high emotion in the wake of Stephanie’s reaction to the basketball. Or Nick’s anger. Or her own guilt over having upset the little girl. But Erin knew better, and she wasn’t going to start lying to herself now. She’d wanted Nick to kiss her, wanted that hard, uncompromising mouth against hers—consequences be damned. No amount of denial was going to change any of it, or the fact that her pulse kicked every time she thought about doing it again.
Her cheeks heated at the memory of their encounter in his driveway, but she quickly shooed it away. She couldn’t change what was already done. It had been two days since the kiss, and she hadn’t seen him since. She told herself that was best. She didn’t need a man like Nick messing with her head and teasing her body with promises that would do nothing but make them both miserable in the long run.
He’d told her it was her recklessness he couldn’t tolerate. Erin knew it had more to do with the fact that she was a career cop who wasn’t afraid to put herself on the line. Well, she’d had her fill of men who couldn’t handle her being a police officer. Warren Prentice was a prime example, and it still disturbed her deeply that six years ago she’d been naive enough to nearly throw it all away in the name of love.
Love? Whoa. Where had that crazy notion come from? Erin certainly wasn’t naive enough to believe in the fallacy of love—or risk her career over it. Things were better if she avoided Nick, she assured herself. Simpler. A hell of a lot safer. She’d do her time in Logan Falls. Get back on her feet. Hopefully, in six months, Frank would reinstate her, and she could move back to Chicago where she belonged.
She started when the bell on the front door jingled. Expecting Hector, she felt a jolt of surprise when Stephanie opened the door and rolled inside. Not sure how to react in light of the fiasco at her birthday party, Erin looked down at the form in front of her and typed another line of information into the computer.
“Hi.”
Erin looked up and felt her mood soften as she watched the little girl struggle to get her wheelchair through the door. “Hi, Steph,” she said. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” The answer lacked the enthusiasm one would expect from a nine-year-old. “Is my dad around?”
Concerned, Erin shoved away from the computer and watched her approach. “You’re not sick, are you?”
No, I’m just desperately sad and lonely and need someone to talk to. Erin saw the words in the little girl’s eyes as clearly as if she’d spoken them. Compassion and an odd sense of understanding squeezed Erin’s heart. How many times had she felt that same sadness growing up without her mother? She wondered if Nick saw the same sadness when he looked into his daughter’s eyes. She wondered if it tore him apart, because there wasn’t anything he could do to fix it.
“I was hoping my dad was here so he’d take me home,” Stephanie said.
“Nick’s at the courthouse today. Hector said he’d be there most of the day. I can call him for you if you want.”
Stephanie looked at her backpack. “Can you take me home?”
Nick had forewarned her that Stephanie skipped school occasionally, and had instructed both of his deputies to call the principal and take his daughter home to Mrs. Thornsberry if she showed up at the station when he wasn’t around.
“Sure I can.” Erin figured it was the least she could do, since she’d upset Stephanie so terribly the night of the party. “Now I have an excuse not to finish this paperwork.”
* * *
It took Erin nearly ten minutes to help Stephanie out of her wheelchair and get her strapped in the cruiser. By the time she stowed the chair in the trunk and climbed behind the wheel, she’d broken into a sweat. For the first time, she realized fully the weight of Nick’s responsibility when it came to his daughter. She knew he shouldered that responsibility without complaint—but she also realized fully the love and devotion that was required to care for a physically challenged child.
Pulling onto Commerce Street, Erin steered the cruiser toward Nick’s house.
“I guess you think I acted like a brat about the basketball,” Stephanie said after a moment.
The statement startled Erin. Not knowing exactly how to respond, she glanced away from her driving and studied the girl. “That was my fault, honey. I should have realized the basketball might upset you.”
“It doesn’t. I mean, it did at first, but not anymore. After I got used to the idea, I started thinking it might be fun to, you know, play.”
“It’s okay for you not to like it, Steph. I’ll take it back and get you something else—”
“But I do like it,” she insisted. “I just…when you first gave it to me, I started thinking that I won’t ever be able to walk again, and it made me feel sad. But after I thought about it awhile, I started thinking maybe I could take some lessons or something.”
“You want to take wheelchair basketball lessons?” Erin asked cautiously.
“Maybe. I mean, you said kids in wheelchairs could take lessons. Didn’t you say that, Erin?”
She thought of Nick and wondered how she should handle this. “How did your dad feel about lessons?”
“He worries too much, but he’s always like that. Mom used to call him a worrywart. But he promised he’d think about it.”
Erin blinked, surprised that Nick had told Stephanie he would consider letting her take lessons. He’d seemed dead set against it. The thought that he might have softened his stance sent a ribbon of warmth through her heart. “So…you had a pretty good birthday, after all?”
“Pretty good.” Sighing, Stephanie looked out the window. “My dad’s pretty cool. He let me stay up past my bedtime for once. He even got me a green parakeet. I named her Bertha. And Mrs. Thornsberry made that really yummy cake. She’s like my grandmother, or something. I just wish…” The little girl’s voice trailed off.
Erin gave her a moment, then pressed. “You wish what, honey?”
“I wish my mom could have been there. I mean, she’d probably be sad that I’m in a wheelchair, but she always made me feel better. She was pretty, and she laughed a lot. She made my dad laugh, too. He hardly ever laughs anymore.”
The words sent a pang through Erin. The mention of Nick’s wife sent another, more complex, pang right through her. “Your dad told me about your mom. I’m sorry.” Remembering her own childhood, and the death of her mother, she ached for the little girl.
“I miss her sometimes.”
“I know what you mean,” Erin said easily.
“You do?”
“I lost my mom when I was six.”
Stephanie turned wide blue eyes on her. “You mean your mom died, too?”
Erin nodded. “She had cancer.”
“That must have been really hard, since you were only six. Did you cry?”
“I cried a bunch. I missed her so much.”
“I used to cry all the time, but I don’t anymore. I even saw my dad cry once. He thought I didn’t see him, but I did. It was kind of weird. I told Mrs. T. about it, and she said everyone cries when they’re sad. I never told my dad I saw him, though. I figured he’d be embarrassed or something.”
Erin smiled despite the fact that she felt the warmth of tears in her eyes. She wondered how a nine-year-old could be so perceptive.
“Is that why you skip school, honey? Because you’re sad?”
“I don’t know.” Steph’s eyes skittered toward the window, then down to her sneakers. “Sometimes I get mad. I mean, not at my dad or Mrs. T. or anything. I just get mad because I miss my mom and I can’t do stuff, like play basketball and ride Bandito.”
Erin wasn’t sure how to tell an innocent nine-year-old child that life wasn’t always fair. “It’s okay to be mad, Steph, but skipping school isn’t such a good idea.”
“I know.”
“But you know what?”
The little girl looked over at her. “What?”
“It helps to talk about it. And I think your dad and Mrs. T. are pretty good listeners.”
“So are you.”
Feeling her own emotions rise, Erin glanced in the rearview mirror and swallowed hard.
“Does that yucky feeling that makes you want to cry ever go away?” Stephanie asked.
“It gets easier,” Erin said carefully. “Pretty soon when you think of your mom, you’ll just smile and think about how much fun she was to be with, and it won’t hurt so much to think about her.”
“She was pretty fun. She used to braid my hair. Once she even braided Bandito’s tail. He looked pretty funny.”
Erin looked away from her driving and grinned “See?” she said. “You’re smiling already.”
They rode in silence for several minutes, then Erin turned the cruiser into the driveway. In the adjacent pasture, the Appaloosa raised his head and watched them. “Hey, there’s Bandito,” she said.
Stephanie waved to the horse and blew him a kiss through the open window. “He’s so pretty. I showed him at the county fair when I was in 4-H. I won first place in western pleasure class. We rode in the trail class, too, but he’s never been good at backing. I could show you my ribbons if you want.”
“I’d love to see them. In fact, I’d love to see Bandito, too.”
The little girl’s face brightened. “Really?”
“Sure.” Erin stopped the cruiser.
“So, you really do like horses? The other day I thought you were just, you know, trying to be nice.”
“I like horses a lot. And I am really nice.” At Stephanie’s smile, she added, “Once you get to know me.”
“Do you really think I could ride him sometime, Erin? I mean, with my legs the way they are? You talked about it the other day, and I’ve sort of been wondering.”
Caution demanded Erin tread carefully when it came to this child. She didn’t want to give her false hopes. The little girl had had too many disappointments in recent years to build her up for another letdown. Nick seemed to be dead set against her taking on any activity that could be even remotely dangerous. On the other hand, Erin knew for a fact Stephanie could at least sit atop her horse; Erin had seen severely handicapped children ride horses with the help of adult spotters in the weeks she’d volunteered at the Quest Foundation. She’d personally spotted one such teenage boy afflicted with syringomyelia. Stephanie wasn’t severely handicapped. Surely Nick wouldn’t deny her that small joy in the name of safety. He had, after all, softened his stance on the basketball. Why would he object to her sitting atop Bandito?
“Do you want to give it a shot?” Erin asked, praying she hadn’t just committed herself to something that would once again put her and Nick at odds.
Stephanie’s grin was all the answer she needed.
* * *
“Oh, honey, I don’t know.” Mrs. Thornsberry worried her pearl necklace with nervous fingers.
“Oh, please, please, please!” said Stephanie, using her arms to rock her wheelchair back and forth on the kitchen floor. “Bandito is so lonely, Mrs. T., and Erin said she’d spot me.”
“Spot you?” the older woman asked. “What’s that?”
“Uh…walk alongside the horse to make sure she doesn’t fall off,” Erin clarified from her place at the kitchen door.
“Oh.” Mrs. Thornsberry shot Erin a stern look. “You’ve done this before?”
“I volunteered at the Quest Foundation in Chicago for a couple of months. They’ve got a renowned equestrian program.”
Recognition flared in the older woman’s eyes. “I know of it. Very reputable organization.”
Erin nodded. “Volunteers go through an intensive training program.”
Mrs. Thornsberry still didn’t look convinced.
“On my first day,” Erin continued, “I watched a fourteen-year-old paraplegic ride for the first time. I’ll never forget the look on his face when they lifted him onto that horse. It was one of the most moving experiences of my life.”
“C’mon, Erin, come see my ribbons,” Stephanie interjected. “I have a trophy, too.”
Mrs. Thornsberry dried her hands on a dish towel and looked down at Stephanie. “Honey, why don’t you go get your boots while Erin and I have a little talk.”
Erin took a deep breath, certain that “talk” was synonymous with lecture. She’d overstepped again. Not the first time since she’d set foot in Logan Falls.
“You’re not going to talk Erin out of spotting me, are you, Mrs. T?” Steph asked.
“Scoot.” Mrs. Thornsberry pushed the wheelchair toward the door. “Dig your riding boots out of your closet, and I’ll help you put them on. If your feet are swelled, you can wear your sneakers.”
“Really? Okay!”
When the little girl was out of earshot, the older woman turned to Erin. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her so excited.”
“I hope I haven’t gotten her hopes up for no reason,” Erin said. “I don’t want her to be disappointed.”
“You mean if Nick doesn’t approve?”
She met the older woman’s gaze steadily. “He seems dead set against any activity that could be perceived as dangerous.”
“Nick’s a good man, Erin. He can be uncompromising, particularly when it comes to Stephanie. But he’s devoted. I’ve never seen a more committed, loving father than Nick. His entire life centers around that girl.”
“That’s never come into question—”
“Of course it hasn’t.”
“But he’s also a little…” Erin let her voice trail off, not sure how to put into words what she felt in her heart without sounding harsh, or appearing judgmental. She didn’t have children; didn’t know the first thing about raising them, either. Still, she’d had some experiences in her life that made her unable to ignore what she knew to be true.
“Overprotective?” Mrs. Thornsberry’s gaze turned knowing.
Erin nodded. “There are a lot of things Stephanie can still do that Nick refuses to consider. I think that’s where some of her frustration comes in.”
“You mean her skipping school?”
“I think she’s crying out for something she’s not getting.”
“Nick is a good father,” Mrs. Thornsberry said fiercely. Busying her hands by adjusting her apron, she turned to the counter. “Rita’s death was hard on this family. Stephanie nearly died that first night. Good heavens, Nick spent so much time at the hospital with her that first terrible week, he practically didn’t have time to grieve. But Rita’s death changed him. And not all the changes I’ve seen in him were good.”
“What changes?”
“He’s always been a very private man. He’s not vocal about his feelings—well, unless he’s angry. He isn’t good at reaching out. After Rita’s death, he just…shut down.”
“You mean emotionally?”
“That’s exactly what I mean. He was crazy about Rita. But she drove him nuts.” As if immersed in memories, Mrs. Thornsberry smiled. “Rita was a free spirit. A dare-devil, if you will. She never listened to anyone. Never followed the rules. She liked loud music. Liked to drive fast with the top down on her convertible. She was into skydiving—at night, of all times. Scuba diving—dove with sharks down in Florida a few years back. Good heavens, she even went bungee jumping once. She’d do anything that was fast or dangerous or both. Drove Nick crazy.”
Erin had an idea where the conversation was heading, and her heart did a long, slow roll under her ribs. “What happened?”
“Rita was out with Stephanie one night. Rita and Nick had quarreled earlier. He never told me that, but I heard them. As usual, Rita was driving too fast. She lost control of her car at the Logan Creek bridge. The car flipped and went down the embankment. The top was down on the convertible, so it offered no protection. I’d been working for them for a couple of years at the time. I’d just put in a casserole for dinner when the deputy called Nick.” Mrs. Thornsberry removed her bifocals and made a show of cleaning the lens with her apron. “Lord have mercy, what that man must have gone through.” The older woman shook her head. “He hasn’t been the same since.”
Erin remembered Nick’s account of the accident, and realized he’d left out most of the details. For the first time, his overprotective nature toward his daughter made perfect sense. “That’s the accident that put Stephanie in the wheelchair?”
Mrs. Thornsberry nodded. “He’d warned Rita about driving too fast, but she wouldn’t listen.”
“That must have been terrible for him.”
“This family has seen more than its share of tragedy. I suspect Nick is so protective around Steph because he’s afraid of losing her, the way he lost Rita. I keep telling myself he’ll come around and stop being so…so vigilant. But it’s been three years. He hasn’t moved on. Not with Stephanie.” The older woman looked at Erin. “Not with his own life.”
Erin knew immediately they were no longer talking about Stephanie, or Nick’s overprotective nature, but the fact that she and Nick had been caught in the throes of a passionate kiss the night of Stephanie’s birthday party. The memory made her cheeks flame.
“There hasn’t been anyone for him since the accident,” Mrs. Thornsberry said. “That’s a long time for a man to be alone.”
“We’re not involved,” Erin said quickly.
“He’s been…preoccupied since you came along. Nick isn’t frivolous when it comes to women.”
Translated, Mrs. Thornsberry was telling her that Nick didn’t kiss just any woman out in his driveway. Erin didn’t know what to say, didn’t want this woman getting the wrong idea about her and Nick. There wasn’t anything between them. Just that blasted, earth-shattering, mind-numbing kiss.
The older woman smiled wisely. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
“Like he wants to throttle me.” Erin forced a laugh, determined to keep the conversation from going in a direction that would put into words a problem that had become increasingly difficult to deal with.
“You’ve shaken him up, Erin. You’re strong willed and don’t let him bully you. Until you came into his life, I didn’t realize how badly he needed that.”
Despite her efforts to keep the conversation light, Erin’s heart beat hard and fast in her chest. “I’m not the right woman for the job,” she whispered a little desperately.
“That, my dear, remains to be seen.”
“I can’t get my boots on!” Stephanie rolled her wheelchair into the kitchen, her face filled with disappointment, her sneakers on her lap. “My feet are swelled,” she announced.
“Your dad will have to rub them for you tonight.” Mrs. Thornsberry clucked her tongue. “For now, you can wear your sneakers.” Kneeling in front of the little girl, she shot Erin a look over her shoulder. “Put that other sneaker on for her, will you, Erin? Bandito is waiting.”
* * *
“Up and at ’em!” Erin lifted the little girl up onto an ever-patient Bandito’s back.
“I can’t get my leg over,” said Stephanie.
“Yes, you can.” Erin ducked under Bandito’s neck and tugged the child’s leg into place. “Sheesh, how much do you weigh?” she teased. “A ton?”
“No!”
“Feels like it.”
“Hey, I’m on!”
The joy in Stephanie’s voice struck a chord in Erin. The change in the little girl was dramatic. Her cornflower-blue eyes were alight with happiness, her lips pulled into a grin. Erin had never seen her so excited, and felt her own excitement build in her chest like a rainbow in the wake of a spring storm.
Stepping back, she studied girl and horse carefully. “You’re going to have to hold on to the horn,” Erin said. “Don’t let go no matter what.”
Biting her lip in concentration, Stephanie wrapped both hands around the leather horn. “’Kay.”
Five minutes later, Erin led Bandito down the aisle toward the barn door, with Stephanie astride. The little girl’s right foot dangled uselessly, but she gripped the horn with white-knuckled determination. Satisfied, Erin said, “Looks like we’re set. Let’s take Bandito into the round pen.”
“I don’t like not being able to use my legs. Bandito knows leg commands.”
“You two will just have to compensate.” Standing on the left side of the horse, Erin led him toward the pen a dozen yards away. “Horses are smart, Steph. Bandito can be retrained, can learn new ways to receive his commands.”
On reaching the pen, Erin opened the gate. She looked up at Stephanie and found the little girl grinning from ear to ear.
“He remembers me,” she whispered. “I can tell.”
“Of course he does,” Erin said. “Horses don’t forget someone they love just because they haven’t seen them for a while.”
She led the horse around the pen, watching the animal, but barely taking her eyes from Stephanie. The September sun beat down on Erin’s dark blue uniform, and she broke into a sweat. It was warm for fall in the Midwest, but she was so caught up in the magic on Stephanie’s face, she barely noticed the heat. It was the perfect day for a little girl to ride her horse.
“I want to trot,” Steph said.
“No way.”
“I won’t fall off.”
“That’s what people say right before they fall off.”
Stephanie giggled. “Okay, at least walk him a little faster. He needs the exercise.”
“I’m the one who’s getting all the exercise,” Erin grumbled good-naturedly, but she was thinking of Nick. “No trotting, kiddo.”
“Okay, maybe we’ll save that for next time.”
Erin brushed a drop of sweat from her temple, hoping with all her heart there was going to be a next time.
“This is great!”
“Easy for you to say,” she said. “Bandito and I are doing all the work.”
Grinning despite the fact that she was breathing hard, and getting her clean uniform all sweaty, Erin continued around the pen. Dust coated her boots and the bottom of her pants. Her hair slowly unraveled from its knot at her nape, but she didn’t care. She was having too much fun watching Stephanie—and feeling the heady rush of satisfaction that came with the knowledge that she’d made a difference in this sweet child’s life.
At the far end of the ring, Erin finally paused.
“What’s wrong?” asked Stephanie.
“I’m getting a stitch in my side.” She was about to ask Stephanie if she wanted something to drink when movement at the end of the driveway drew her gaze. Erin’s heart plummeted when she spotted Nick’s Suburban speeding down the driveway, a rooster tail of dust in its wake.