BY THE TIME Matteo and Ty returned to the main ranch yard with the injured horse, the sun was about ready to fade for the night. Matteo could see the flames of a firepit flickering and instantly wondered where Peyton and Gino were. The walk had taken longer than even he’d expected, but he’d let the horse set their pace, if for no other reason than to earn a bit more trust with the animal.
Ty circled the truck around in front of them, parked and motioned for Matteo to follow him into the barn that Ethan Blackwell used as his large-animal clinic. “We’ll put her in the stall farthest in the back,” Ty said as he pushed open the door and turned on the lights. Matteo heard rustling, as if they’d awakened something inside the barn. “That’ll be Goldie,” Ty said. “She’s a two-year-old filly who was abandoned when her owner died. Poor thing is heartbroken, I think. She won’t let anyone near her. She’s not dangerous,” he added as he softened his footfalls. “Just sad.”
Matteo couldn’t help but look into the stall as he led his own rescue horse into the space. She was another beauty—tan and white with a mane that looked like caught sunbeams. She blinked slowly at him and looked away, backing farther into the corner of her stall. Ty was right. The sorrow wafted off her in waves. “What are you going to do with her?”
“We aren’t sure yet. She’s not the right temperament for a trail horse. We might have Conner Hannah work with her, or Lily. They’ve both got that special touch. But for now, every time we even try to lead her out for a walk, she won’t have it. She just wants to—”
“Hide.” Matteo swallowed around the familiar sense of grief and fear. “Yeah. I’ll bet she does.” His own horse whinnied as Matteo led her into the stall, then removed the rope. When he closed the latch, he stood there, arms resting on the edge of the sill, to let her know he wasn’t leaving her yet. She walked toward him, knocked her nose against his outstretched hand. “You’re going to be okay. I promise.”
“I’ll get her some feed and give Ethan another call so he knows to look at her tomorrow.”
“I can do that,” Matteo said. “You wanted to go tell Hadley you were back. I can close up here, meet you at the guest house.”
“Uh, okay.” Ty nodded, gratitude settling in his eyes, and he smiled. “I’d appreciate that. Feed’s in the other barn. Maybe check Goldie’s food, too?” Ty asked on his way out.
“Not a problem.” Matteo ran his hand down the horse’s nose. A mixed blessing, for sure, he thought, finding her. He didn’t need another distraction, but that seemed to be how his life was running these days. First Gino, now this girl. “How about we get you some food, huh?”
He did a quick run to the other barn, found what he needed and a few minutes later returned and offered the bucket of food to the nearly starving mare. While she ate, Matteo turned his attention to Goldie, who had shifted positions and was in the other corner of her stall now. One that gave her a perfect view of her new roommate. “Hey, Goldie.”
Matteo moved slowly, refrained from making any quick movements as he approached the latch so he could check her food bag. Goldie remained still and watched every step he made, though, and she seemed to incline her head in question after he backed out and locked up again. “You’re okay here. You know that, right?” He stood there for a moment, meeting her gaze until she blinked away. “You miss your people, don’t you, girl? You miss your person. They went and left you.”
Goldie sighed.
Matteo squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the smell of hay and feed. The sensation of stray bits of both under his feet. How many nights had he hidden in an empty stall, burying himself in the hay to prevent being found so he didn’t have to hear all the shouting and fighting. Sleeping fitfully into the early-morning hours as he kept an ear out for booted footsteps that usually meant trouble.
“Matteo?” Peyton’s voice broke through the memories and had him looking over his shoulder. “Ty said you were back.” She had Gino with her, in front of her, her hands on his son’s shoulders. For a moment the world stilled, and he imagined what it would be like to come home to this scene every night. Where Gino and Peyton were waiting for him. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah.” He blinked quickly to get rid of the past as well as an impossible future. “Yeah, I’m sorry I’m so late. We found a horse while we were out. She’s sick, so I walked her back. Gino do okay?”
“He did fine,” Peyton said.
Matteo looked at Gino for confirmation. “Miss Peyton let me go to the petting zoo with Rosie. I got to meet Billy the goat and Coconut the rabbit and there’s a tiny horse named...um, I forget, but it was really neat. Can I see your horse?”
“She’s not mine,” Matteo corrected as he headed toward them. “And she’s a little skittish. If you are quiet and careful, then yes, you can meet her.” He stretched out his hand. “No running, okay, bud?”
Gino nodded and took very large, very deliberate steps beside Matteo. He could feel Peyton behind them, off to one side, as if not wanting to intrude but also wanting to see what had delayed his return. Matteo leaned down and hefted Gino up. The horse’s head came up, and she sniffed the air but remained where she was, near her feed bag, which Matteo could tell she’d already been using.
“What’s wrong with her?” Gino asked. “What’s that mark on her side?”
“I think someone wasn’t very nice to her,” Matteo whispered. “But we’re going to see about making her better. Right now she needs rest and food.”
“What’s her name?”
“She doesn’t have one.”
“Everyone needs a name,” Gino said.
Matteo agreed. Names were important. They meant something. Better he leave that to Ethan or Ty or whoever might take the animal in. “I’m sure she’ll have one soon.”
“How about this one over here?” Peyton stepped toward Goldie’s stall. Before Matteo could tell her to stop, Goldie approached and met Peyton halfway. “Hi there.” Peyton stretched out her hand. “You’re awfully pretty, aren’t you...” She glanced back at Matteo.
“Goldie,” Matteo said, watching as the horse nuzzled Peyton’s hand. “Maybe you have a bit of the Blackwell touch yourself.”
“The what?” Peyton asked as she petted the horse’s muzzle.
“Your sister seems to have it, from what Ty said. Natural way with horses. No doubt all the Blackwell brothers do, too. Ty told me Goldie’s avoided almost everyone since she got here.” But she certainly wasn’t avoiding Peyton by any stretch. “You said you used to ride.”
“That was a very long time ago,” she said without looking at them. “My dad, my real dad, Thomas, used to take me out once in a while. Some of my best memories have to do with him and horses.”
It was the first time she’d said anything about her real father. What must it be like to know who you came from, even if they hadn’t been part of your life for years?
He shifted Gino more securely in his arms. Somehow holding his son made the pain and loneliness from his own childhood fade to where it couldn’t hurt him anymore. But it didn’t stop the desire to belong to something, to someone, other than himself.
He saw that longing now, when Peyton glanced at the two of them, a soft smile curving her full lips. She seemed...different here. Not quite so buttoned-up and tight. As if the Montana air and atmosphere had loosened something inside of her.
“Let’s leave them to get some rest, okay?” Matteo lowered Gino to the ground.
“Can we visit tomorrow?” Gino asked.
“We’ll see. She needs to see a doctor first. Her well-being has to come before anything else.”
“Okay.” Gino didn’t look too pleased with that idea.
Matteo stopped and slipped an arm around Peyton’s shoulder. Goldie lifted her head and looked into his eyes for a moment before she let out a huff and moved back into the corner of her stall.
“She looks so lonely,” Peyton whispered as he drew her away and out of the clinic.
“Her owner died. Left her all alone.”
“That explains that. It’s not a good feeling. Being left behind.” Peyton tucked her hair behind her ear. “They’re serving dinner now up at the dining hall. Are you hungry?”
“Starved,” Matteo confirmed as they headed away, but he cast a last look back at the stable where the horses settled for the night.
PEYTON’S EYES SNAPPED OPEN.
The room was pitch-black and smelled of cedar and rain. The world was silent. She sat up, pushed her hair out of her eyes. Montana, she reminded herself. She was in Falcon Creek, Montana. On the Blackwell Ranch. With Matteo and his son.
What had woken her up? Normally she slept like the dead, but now that she thought about it, she’d heard something odd. Something that sounded... She reached up and snapped on the bedside lamp, leaping out of bed. When she pulled open her bedroom door, she looked immediately to the tiny figure sprawled half-in half-out of the blankets on the sofa bed. Gino continued sleeping, mouth open, snoring little-boy snores that would have amused her if she hadn’t shivered at the sudden cold.
The front door stood open. And just beyond, standing on the porch, hands braced on the railing, Matteo stood in the moonlight and the autumn rain. His head was bowed as he shifted his feet restlessly.
Barefoot, she padded silently toward him, drawing the door partially closed. “Matteo?”
“Sorry.” He answered as if he’d felt her presence. “Did I wake you?”
“It’s okay. I thought it was Gino at first.” Arms tucked in around herself, she suddenly realized silk pajamas were not Montana-friendly. “I was afraid maybe he’d had a bad dream.”
“No.” Matteo shook his head, still not looking at her. “That was me.” He took a deep breath. “Go back to bed, Peyton.”
“Can’t.” She checked her watch. Four o’clock. “Once I’m up for the day I’m up. I can’t sleep in, even when I want to.”
“Sorry,” he apologized again. “Nightmares sneak up on me. Today must have brought too much back. I’ll get it under control.”
“Don’t apologize.” He wanted her to leave him alone. That much was clear by his clipped tone and his refusal to look at her. But Peyton wasn’t one for doing what people wanted. Not when it was obvious they were in pain. “You want to tell me about the dream?”
Now he looked at her, the disbelief and panic in his eyes reminding her so much of Gino her heart stuttered. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s something.” Ignoring the cold, she took a seat in one of the two rocking chairs by the door. She curled her legs in, wrapped her arms around them. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be standing out here freezing in just pajama bottoms.”
It was hard not to notice. That bare back of his was sublime in its definition. The way his hips tapered in and the muscles in his arms tightened as he struggled to find his way out of the hold of the dream. As much as she’d thought about Matteo Rossi—and she’d thought about him a lot over these past few weeks—her fantasies hadn’t come close. With that almost too-long dark hair of his and faint scruff on his jaw, he looked like a wounded warrior praying to the moon for guidance.
“You’re going to freeze out here yourself,” he muttered as he turned to her.
She shrugged. “It’ll help me shiver off dinner.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten one brownie, let alone two brownies for dessert. And that was after a hearty helping of steak fajitas with homemade tortillas, salsa and guacamole. “You’re stalling. You’re old enough to know talking about disturbing dreams helps.” It always had done that for her.
“They’re more like nightmares. Memories are a whole other thing.” He braced his hands on the railing, leaned over enough to see inside to Gino.
“He’s snoring away,” Peyton said with a grin. “He won’t hear anything to make you any less his hero.”
“I’m no one’s hero.” The very idea looked distasteful to him.
“Too late. And is that more stalling I hear?” She cupped a hand behind her ear. “You know I don’t give up until I get what I want, so you may as well spill it.” Irritation was another great cleansing emotion for helping get rid of the darkness.
“There’s nothing to spill. We all have things we wish we could forget.”
“Doesn’t mean the things were any less terrible or impactful. Case in point.” She pointed to the sky. “You’re out here in the middle of the night in the rain trying to outrun them.”
“Yeah.” He leaned back and looked up at the dark clouds. “I am, aren’t I? I didn’t think it would happen this soon. I thought maybe I could keep it under control.” He slammed his hands down hard. “This shouldn’t be happening.”
“But it is,” Peyton said softly. “Matteo, talk to me. We’re friends. Or almost friends.” She honestly wasn’t entirely sure what they were. “I’m here. I won’t judge. I won’t think any less of you because you need to talk something out.”
“You won’t report me to Vilette, then, for being unprofessional?”
Peyton waited for the humor to flash in his eyes, but it didn’t. Instead, she saw honest doubt reflected back at her. “I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t,” she insisted when he let out what she could only define as a divisive snort.
“Even if it meant you could go home and resume your usual routine?”
“I—No.” She had been looking for ways to get out of this, to go home. Not just because she wanted her normal life back, but now she knew for certain that Montana was just not her place. “I’d never use something like this against you. Against anyone. I agreed to come here, to let you do your job. I plan to stay until you tell me it’s safe to go home.” And just like that, any resistance she held about coming to Falcon Creek, Montana, vanished. Not only because it would help her relationship with her sister and she could use a break, but because in the end, it would help Matteo. Fighting against him, resenting him for doing a job he’d taken so he could get his son back was just plain selfish. “Matteo, what was the dream about?”
He took another long breath, shook his head as if his reluctance no longer mattered. “I grew up on a place like this. Well, not as nice as this. I guess compared to here, it would loosely be called a ranch. Out in New Mexico.” His gaze caught hers. “It was a home for abandoned boys.”
“I see.” It was all she could manage around the tightening of her throat.
“No, you don’t.” There was no bitterness in his voice. Not aimed at her, at least. “Be grateful for that. I wouldn’t want you to. I wouldn’t want anyone to.”
“How old—”
“Four.” He seemed anxious to get the details out of the way. “According to my records. I remember the day the social worker brought me there. We drove out in this beat-up truck, dust pluming up from under the tires as we drove. You know those opening scenes of The Wizard of Oz, how it’s in that sepia, noncolor tone? That’s my first real memory. A world without color. I spent the next thirteen years there.”
“It wasn’t...good.” Obviously. She winced. Was she as bad at this as she sounded?
“I would have given my right arm for good. We got the basics, of course. Enough schooling to know how to read and pass tests the case workers would set. Enough food to keep us alive. But mainly we worked, either the cattle or at nearby farms and ranches. The facilitators who ran it, an older married couple and the wife’s brother, had their favorites among the boys. I was not one of them.”
“For any particular reason?” She needn’t have asked. Peyton could see the answer in his obsidian eyes.
“I didn’t look like them or sound like them, so I didn’t belong in their world.” The smile on his face should have been filled with resentment. Instead, it seemed one of acceptance. “One of my earliest life lessons. To never forget how some people saw me. Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t all bad. Just...” he seemed to struggle for the right word “...just difficult. I actually learned a lot there. How to hide food in my pockets for later. And that it was warmer to sleep with the horses than in the beds they’d provided. Also, how to sneak books out of the library when we went into town. I’d stay up late reading anything I could get my hands on, including manuals on computers and biographies of soldiers. The older I got, the more I read. Words were my escape. My tether. That’s how I found out about the Marines. My caregivers didn’t make it easy, but I got out.”
“How?”
“Something else I learned—how to hide. I didn’t want to be anyone’s target in case something bad started to happen. I also didn’t like all the shouting and swearing. It freaked me out as a kid, so I’d find other places, quieter places, to be. Fortunately, I grew quickly, and the threat of anything else stopped when I was big enough to fight back. After that, they left me alone.”
“I’m so sorry.” Peyton’s whisper vanished into the night. No child should ever have to go through anything like that. And yet she knew hundreds, thousands, did. “Where did you hide?”
“In the stables. They were off-limits during the night, but I’d made myself a pass-through into one of the stalls. The horses were safe. They didn’t see me as anything else than wanting to help them. And in some ways, they protected me. I’d hide under the loose hay until the sun came up and go straight to work. And then, the morning I turned seventeen, I snuck into the office in the house and printed off my file that included my social security number and any other information I thought I’d need. By the time the sun was up, I’d walked out the front door and never looked back. Six months later, after busing it around the country, I joined the service.”
The breath of relief he released had her pressing a hand against her hammering heart. “So, the dream you had?” Peyton thought it important he circle back around. “Was it from when you had to hide as a little boy?”
“No.” He shook his head. “No. Those memories I can handle. The nightmare is always that I never escape. That I’m still stuck there, trapped. Hungry. Alone.” He dropped his head back again. “The hunger was bad enough, along with the fear that came with each new day in those early years. But the loneliness. That was unbearable.”
She couldn’t imagine it. Even with all that had happened with her father and stepfather, and the disappointment she held for her mother, she’d never been completely alone because she’d had her sisters.
“You’ve done pretty well since,” she managed, knowing whatever else she said was completely useless. She couldn’t offer platitudes that held no connection to the life he’d led, nor would her apologies for something she’d had no control over mean anything. What she could do was offer support. Encouragement. Friendship. And... She stopped herself before those thoughts went too far. “You’re not alone now, are you?”
“No.” And there it was. Relief and acceptance easing the tense lines on his face. “The only times I haven’t felt that way were when I was serving with my fellow Marines and when Gino was born. The instant I held him in my hands.” He held out his hands now and looked down as if he could see a newborn Gino in his palms. “In that blink of an eye, I knew why I’d made it. Why I’d made a life for myself.” His fists closed. “That little boy was and is all that matters to me. And then two years ago, I couldn’t do anything to stop Sylvia from taking him away. That was the last time I had the dream. Until tonight.”
Until he was back on a ranch. Because of her. Peyton’s heart ached for him. He’d come back here to do a job to earn enough money to get his son back. Whatever pessimism she may have felt broke away. She unfolded herself from her chair and, still shivering, went to him, stood in front of him and reached up to cup his face in her hands. And he said he wasn’t anyone’s hero. “You’re a good man, Matteo Rossi.”
“I’m a survivor,” he said with a tight smile. “Not the same thing.”
“Then, you don’t see what I do. I see it every time you look at Gino. Every time you put yourself between me and whatever you think will harm me. Whoever you were, whoever they tried to make you into, doesn’t come close to who you are now. You have to know that. Somewhere deep inside, you know that.”
He tried to shrug off her compliment, tried to pull out of her grasp, but she held on, raised up on tiptoe to make sure he looked into her eyes as she spoke. “You could have surrendered, and no one would have blamed you. You could have given up, because no one should have to fight that hard to exist. That you didn’t shows me who you really are. One day, you’ll tell Gino what you’ve told me tonight. And he’ll know who you are. Beyond who he sees now. The father who would do anything for him.”
His fingers brushed along the exposed skin of her waist, moments before his hands settled.
“Thank you for telling me.” She knew she should back away, knew she should release him, but the warmth of him, the depths of his dark eyes drew her in even deeper than she’d been before. “Thank you for trusting me.”
He nodded, the question in his eyes. The same question that coursed through her mind as she brushed her mouth against his. The barely there kiss warmed her from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. The feel of his lips, the promise of them had her stretching up and pressing herself into his strength and heat.
All at once, everything she’d never thought she’d feel, everything she’d convinced herself she didn’t need, crashed in on her. He drew her closer, his hands still grasping her hips as he returned her kiss with a control and tenderness that had tears burning the backs of her eyes.
“Peyton,” he whispered when she pulled herself away and lowered her heels to the porch floor. “What are we doing?”
She looked at him, perhaps seeing him fully for the first time, and felt her heart skip a beat. “I don’t know.”
And if there was one thing that scared Peyton Harrison, it was the unknown.
MATTEO ROSSI WAS in trouble. Not just any trouble. Nope. His trouble was spelled P-E-Y-T-O-N.
The overnight storm tapered off, and they’d retreated to their respective rooms, but neither of them had gone back to sleep. He could feel her energy through the walls, that conscious, constant presence he’d been feeling for weeks since he’d begun working for her.
The tousled sheets lay tangled beneath him as he lay there, trying to get reception on his cell phone. He needed something, anything to distract him from the memory of Peyton Harrison kissing him.
Matteo squeezed his eyes shut. He should have stopped it. He’d seen it coming, seen the admiration-tinged sympathy shining in those sparkling green eyes of hers as she’d approached him. Felt the electric charge shoot through his system when she’d laid her hands on his chest, lifted her face to his. He shouldn’t have found out what he’d been wanting to know, but he did. He knew, down to the very center of his being, what it felt like to kiss Peyton.
“Yeah, that won’t keep you awake at night,” he muttered and tossed his phone onto the nightstand. He had a job to do. Protect her. Keep her safe. Keep her away from whoever wanted to hurt her.
His job did not—and should not—include falling for his charge who was sleeping in the next room.
One night down. Thirteen to go.
If bringing his six-year-old son along on the job was unprofessional, certainly kissing Peyton in the autumn rain was. This had been so much easier before he’d gotten to know her, before he’d fallen into the complicated, fascinating mess that was her family.
It seemed ridiculous to be envious of the situation she found herself in with her grandfather and sisters. But the fact she understood how lucky she was to have those problems made him like her even more. She wasn’t the distant, cold businesswoman he’d convinced himself she was.
She had just as many winding roads inside of her as he had in his past. And all of them had led them both to the same place: Falcon Creek, Montana.
From his bed, he could look out the window, see the sun beginning to peek over the mountains. The pink and blue hues in the sky welcoming them on their first full day was something to behold. How long had it been since he’d taken the time to appreciate the sunrise?
How long before he forgot to appreciate it again?
The soft knock on his door had him sitting up. “Yeah?”
Gino poked his head in, his hair mussed to the point of comedic comment, his eyes still droopy with sleep. “I’m up.” He didn’t look particularly happy about it, a theory proven correct when he came over to the bed and flopped down face-first.
Matteo laughed and reached down to roll him over and tickle him. The sound of his son’s laughter made the last two years without him melt into oblivion. This was why he did what he did. This little guy, right here, with his mischievous dark eyes and early-morning smile, while wearing pajamas that were almost too small for him.
“Shh.” Matteo finally pushed a finger against his lips before pointing to the wall. “We don’t want to wake Peyton.”
Gino nodded and crawled up to stretch out beside Matteo. “What are we doing today?”
“I don’t know what they have planned for the ranch, but you’ve got schoolwork to catch up on.” He expected resistance. How could schoolwork possibly compete with a stable full of horses, outdoor activities and a ranch that by now must be at least half mud?
“I don’t wanna do homework.”
“That’s too bad because if you don’t get caught up, you won’t be going on the trail ride Tuesday.” Matteo lay back down on the bed and clasped his hands behind his head. “Each of us has a job to do before we can have fun. School is your job, Gino.”
“Can I go see your horse instead? And visit Goldie?”
“Not until you’re done with your schoolwork.” He understood childhood reluctance to learning. No one liked to be told what to study and for how long. But he also knew what it was like to be prevented from studying, period, from filling his brain with information that would make his life better. Gratitude and appreciation were lessons his son needed to learn. When Gino didn’t respond, Matteo looked at him. “Gino?”
“I’m no good at it,” his son whispered, his eyes filling before he looked away and sniffled. “Kids make fun of me. I get everything wrong. And sometimes the teacher makes me stay after to finish, and then I get in trouble with Mom because I’m late getting home.”
Something Mr. Shinto had said about Gino when he’d dropped him off rang in Matteo’s head. Something he hadn’t quite understood at the time. “Did you ask your mom for help with your schoolwork?”
“Yeah.” Gino’s chin wobbled. “She said she didn’t have time and that I was smart enough to figure it out. Jiro helped a little, but he’s always at work, too. He said that was my teacher’s job.”
Matteo struggled to keep his temper in check. “Well, you know what? You’re not with your mom and Jiro anymore. And I love doing schoolwork.”
“You do?” Gino’s eyes went wide, as if Matteo had just admitted to being a secret superhero.
“I do. I think because...” What was it Peyton had said last night? That his son would understand him better, understand the world better, if he told Gino the truth about his childhood. “I think because when I was your age, the people I lived with didn’t want me to be smart. And that’s what books and schoolwork do. They make you smart until you figure out what it is you want to do when you’re older.”
“But what if I’m not smart?” Gino whispered. “What if I’m stupid?”
Anger stabbed him dead center of his chest. “You are not stupid, Gino. You know how I know that?”
“Nuh-uh.”
“Because you know that smart boys come to someone when they need help. They talk about it with someone they can trust. Like you’re doing now.” Like he’d longed to do when he was a little boy. “You can always, always come to me, Gino. I will never, ever think you are stupid.”
“So...” Gino bit his lip “...if I asked you to help me with my work—”
“I will always say yes,” Matteo said. “And you know what else? The sooner we get through with your work, the more time you’ll have to play with Rosie and the animals.”
“And your horse?” Gino’s eyes brightened.
“And the new horse,” Matteo agreed. “But first, you know what I really want?” Other than an IV of coffee. “I think we should find out when and where breakfast is because I’m starving.”
“Yeah!” Gino yelled and threw his arms over his head. “Me, too. When do we eat?”
APPARENTLY PEYTON WASN’T as bad at this hiding thing as she thought.
She holed up in her room, in her bed with her laptop whirring and whining, half-listening to Matteo and Gino getting up and dressed. She sat there, tucked under her blankets, biting her thumbnail and wondering what she was going to say when Matteo knocked on her door. She’d kissed him. She shoved a hand into her hair and grimaced.
Heaven help her, she’d kissed her bodyguard.
Not only kissed him but enjoyed it. And wanted to do it again. She’d felt it all the way to her toes, which continued to tingle. It seemed he’d enjoyed it as well, despite their mutual uncertainty about what they did about it now.
“Nothing,” she whispered. “You’re going to do nothing about it because it isn’t going to happen again.” Her cheeks flushed, a sign she was lying to herself. Darn it! She didn’t want sparks. She didn’t want desire or distraction or anything interfering with her perfectly mapped-out life. All she wanted out of a relationship was simple, mutual respect and appreciation. No emotions to get her all tangled up. A simple arrangement was all she needed. She didn’t want to know what else was possible. Hearts didn’t get broken in simple arrangements gone wrong.
Nope. And since Mr. Josiah wasn’t working out, she’d have to find another way to deal with her stepfather’s determination to see her happy and settled. Was there a more logical, thought-out solution than Mr. Josiah? It was little more than a signature on a contract.
Except...
Her brow pinched. Except now she did know what she’d be missing with what amounted to simply another business deal. Now she knew what chemistry and attraction provided. And if a single kiss could overload her brain with unwanted information, she could only imagine what...
“Stop it. Just...stop.”
Any concern she had about facing Matteo right now vanished with the quiet whoosh of paper sliding under her bedroom door.
Going for breakfast in the dining hall. Will bring you back something unless you join us. Otherwise, don’t leave the cabin. M
A moment later, she heard the front door open and close, and the cabin went silent.
The knots in her stomach eased. Alone in the cabin, she made quick work of her morning. She jumped in the shower and, after looking out the window into the gray, drizzly day, donned the brand-new pair of jeans she’d ordered, along with her running shoes and a bright blue turtleneck shirt.
The weather certainly didn’t entice her to go out, so she rummaged around in the kitchenette and set a pot of coffee to brewing, made a quick inventory of the minifridge and cabinets, where she found a nice selection of snacks and drinks. She could order breakfast to be delivered to the cabin, but she wasn’t typically a breakfast person, so she’d wait and see what Matteo might bring back for her. Otherwise, she could wait for lunch.
Coffee brewed and poured, Peyton settled down with her laptop at the table by the window, across from where Matteo had left Gino’s school things. Minutes later, she’d pulled up the Olwen project information and, pen in hand, got to work prepping for the meeting that could launch Electryone into the business stratosphere.
“SO, WHAT’S THE VERDICT?” Matteo kept one eye on Gino and another on Ethan Blackwell as the vet examined his rescue’s front right hoof.
“Well, to start—” Ethan hoisted the horse’s hoof higher “—looks like an abscess. I can drain that and start her on antibiotics. We should see some improvement by the end of the week.”
“How much will that run me?”
Ethan glanced up, first at Ty, then at Matteo. “Nothing.”
“She was found on Blackwell land,” Ty said with a nod. “That makes her ours.”
“I know how expensive horses can be.” Matteo shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “And I know you guys are fine financially, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to pay my fair share. I brought her here. She’s partially my responsibility. Gino, hey, come away from Goldie, okay? If she’s in the back corner of her stall, she wants to be left alone.”
Gino huffed what sounded like an impatient breath and rejoined Matteo. “I’m bored.”
“I know. Hey, how about you take Peyton her breakfast? It’s right over there.” He pointed to the paper container containing scrambled eggs, a bagel and homemade huckleberry jam. “I’ll be back in a bit, and we can get started with your schoolwork.”
Gino looked far from impressed.
“The longer it takes you to make up your mind, the longer it’ll take for me to get done here. Remember, no schoolwork, no trail ride.”
“But Katie said she found me a horse!”
“So, we shouldn’t disappoint her.” Even after their discussion this morning, Gino still wasn’t on board with his learning. “Or you can wait over there for me, and we’ll go back together.”
“Fine, I’ll do it.” Gino stomped over and grabbed Peyton’s breakfast.
“And no stomping in mud puddles on your way there,” Matteo told him seconds before Gino launched himself into an ankle-deep one outside the clinic door. “Unless you want to learn how to do laundry later today, as well as multiplication.” He cringed and returned his attention to the Blackwell brothers, once Gino was out of earshot. “Sorry, guys.”
“Nothing to apologize for.” Ethan shrugged. “We’ve all been there. Well, except this one,” he said and jabbed a finger at Ty. “He’s going to get his first taste this Christmas. Although, it should be a while before his kid is stomping in mud puddles.”
“FYI.” Ty motioned at Matteo, as Ethan lowered the horse’s foot and left the stall to sort through his medical bag. “We’ve got laundry facilities in the guest house. In the room next to the gym.”
“Right. I saw that yesterday,” Matteo replied. “I’d been hoping to get in a run this morning, but the treadmill will do for tomorrow.” The rain had slowed to a constant drizzle and made his optimistic outlook on the ranch dim a bit. “I take it the trail ride happens rain or shine?”
“Pretty much,” Ty confirmed. “But we have a few days for the weather to pass. We can leave later than planned, though, give the ground a little more time to dry, which it should. What are you thinking about those injuries, Ethan?” he asked his brother when Ethan began examining the horse’s sides and flanks.
“Barbed-wire scars,” Matteo said and earned a surprising neigh and nod of the head from his charge. “Spur scars down below.”
“Agreed.” Ethan smoothed his fingers over the raw marks. “Not too long ago, by the looks of it. She’s also malnourished and dehydrated. I’m going to start her on some fluids, see if we can ease those symptoms. She ate through that entire bag of feed you gave her, Matteo, so that’s good news.” He patted his hand against her neck. “She hasn’t given up.”
“No, she hasn’t,” Matteo agreed. “She’s a fighter. Will you look for her owner?”
“I don’t see any markings on her,” Ty said after examining her ears and the rest of her body. “No brands or identification tags. Tells me whoever had her either didn’t know to or didn’t care about staying legal. I’d say leave it be and get her back to full strength.”
The horse whinnied in agreement.
“Can’t argue with a horse,” Matteo said. “If it turns out she needs something, though, tell me. Believe me, if I didn’t live in an apartment in California, I’d try to find a way to keep her myself.” Not to ride. He didn’t think she’d ever let anyone on her back again. That was his gut feeling. But to know she was safe.
“She’s definitely not a Cali girl,” Ty joked. “We’ve got time to figure it all out, though. Don’t worry. I’m off to take a couple of guests to the airport.”
After leaving the horse in Ethan’s capable hands, Matteo headed to the cabin, hoping he’d find Gino in a better mood.
“THANKS, LITTLE MAN.” Peyton accepted the paper container from a rain-soaked Gino, cringing at the mud spots he’d left on the floor. “How about you go leave those shoes by the door and get a towel for your hair.”
He grumbled but did as she said, nearly toppling over when he tugged off his shoes. They landed with a wet plop.
The eggs were cold, but after an initial bite, she found they were tasty. Actual real eggs, not that powdered stuff so many hotels served in their breakfast buffets. She really shouldn’t eat the bagel, but she had heard tell of huckleberry jam and how you couldn’t leave Montana without trying it. She broke off a chunk of bagel and dipped it into the thick jam and nearly swooned as the slightly sweet mixture hit her tongue. Okay, she thought. That was good.
It didn’t take long for the jam and bagel to be eaten. Just in time for her to put on another pot of coffee to brew.
“Dad said he’ll be back soon.” Gino slipped into the chair across from her. “What are you doing?”
“Working.”
“Oh. My mom works a lot. She says I bug her.”
Peyton’s initial reaction was to protest, to tell Gino she was sure that wasn’t true, but whether or not his mother had told him that, it was clear Gino believed it. “You know what?” She closed her laptop. “I’ve worked enough this morning. I think your dad said you need to finish your school stuff before you can go riding next week. Maybe you should get started?”
She reached across for the workbooks in front of him. Spelling. Math. Reading comprehension. She flipped through the pages, saw the errant scribbles early in one of the books. Scribbles that didn’t entirely make sense. “Where did you leave off?”
Gino shrugged. “Dunno.”
“Well, let’s find out.” She held out her hand, which he took after a moment, and tugged him around and in front of her. She moved her computer aside, flipped open the first page of his spelling book. “Looks like you forgot to finish your spelling list for this assignment.” She glanced at the date in the top corner from more than a month ago. “You want to finish it now?”
She reached for a pencil and set it in front of him. “Here. Why don’t you show me how you spell dog. That’s this word right here.”
He grabbed the pencil, took an extra beat to find the right grip. He leaned over, then seemed to shy away. “I don’t know if it’ll be right.”
“It doesn’t have to be right on your first try, Gino.” Peyton smoothed his damp hair back and rested her chin on his shoulder. “That’s why it’s called learning. If it isn’t right, we’ll figure it out until it is.” It had been so long since she’d sat with a child to help with homework. Most of her sisters had done all right on their own, but Lily had needed help after her accident. Especially when it came to writing and finding a comfortable way to hold a pen or pencil. “How about you try, and we’ll see where we are. Come on. Dog.”
She could feel the tension in his little body and wished she could find the words to make him less nervous about writing a simple word. Finally, he leaned over and put his pencil over the paper. “There you go,” she murmured encouragingly. “D-O-G.”
He took such care, as if he wanted it to be perfect. When he finished, he stood up like a shot and turned hopeful eyes on her. “I did it!”
Peyton gave him a quick hug and looked down at the paper.
Her stomach dropped, unease clambering in her chest as she ignored the truth and gave him another squeeze. “How about we try the next one? Cat. Makes sense. Can’t have a dog without a cat.”
“Hip has cat friends,” Gino said as he went back to work. “Rosie says Hip gets along with all the animals. Even Splinter the Cow.”
“I bet Hip gets along with everyone,” Peyton agreed, and soon they settled into an easy rhythm, moving down his spelling list.
When he flipped the page, he did so with a little yelp of excitement.
“I’m doing it!”
“Hold on.” Peyton flipped the page back. “Let’s go over them before we move on. Can you read the words back to me?” She went to the top of the list, only when he did, his smile faded. “Gino?”
“It doesn’t look right. It doesn’t look the same.” He jabbed his finger against the printed text and the word he’d written. “It’s supposed to be the same.” Tears filled his eyes, and he looked at her as if she could solve all his problems. “I did it wrong, didn’t I?”
She drew him back and into his arms. “You know what?”
“I’m stupid.”
“You are not.” There were a lot of words that did damage, but that was the worst. She wrapped an arm around him and kept him firmly in place when he tried to bolt free. “Gino, you are not stupid. Do you remember what this word is?” She tapped the original text.
“Dog.”
“And what letters did you draw?”
“I dunno.”
“Yes, you do. We said it before. D-O-G, remember?”
“That’s what I did. D-O-G. But it’s not right. It’s not right!” He threw the pencil down and broke free of Peyton’s hold just as Matteo returned. “I told Dad. It’s just like Mom said. I’m stupid. I’m just stupid!” He ran into his father’s room and slammed the door.
“What’s going on?” She heard the instant disappointment in his voice, the accusation aimed at her at seeing his son upset. She didn’t take offense. If anything, the protective instinct for his child endeared him even more to her.
“I might understand why Gino hates school so much.” She rose, picked up the workbook and met him halfway.
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” She handed him the workbook. “You need to look into getting him tested. I think he has dyslexia.”