Leaning against the arena fence by the parking lot, Bruce glanced at Sarah when she came out of the barn. She had dodged him all week. Every time he came near, she found a task to pull her away. He hadn’t wanted to make her more uncomfortable, so he’d given her space. Figured she probably had blurted out the comment about him smelling good and regretted it. No sense putting her on the spot.
And for that matter, he’d just as soon forget about having to toss a napkin in his lap to hide his hard-on after he’d come within an inch of kissing her. One second they’d been talking about Joe, and the next her hands were on his leg and chest. With maple syrup on her breath, and her sensual lips so close, he’d lost it. Almost took a taste. Thank God Greg had come out and broken up the party.
Sarah had interrupted a long string of Navy-worthy curses running through his head when she’d shot that remark over her shoulder. It came out of nowhere, and with Debbie and Joe in the kitchen, Bruce couldn’t talk to her. Not that he’d needed to. Her bright pink cheeks and still-dilated pupils said it all. The question was what to do about it.
Sarah stopped short and shielded her eyes. Must have seen him. She pivoted, took a step back toward the stables, and stopped again. Her shoulders squared, and she swung back around. She tucked a strand of hair back and strode toward him.
Might be best to clear the air since they had to work around each other. Her dance of avoidance had gone on long enough. He should apologize, but technically, he hadn’t done anything, and it might make her even more uncomfortable.
Damn the way her hips swayed and her pink T-shirt hugged her breasts.
She stopped a couple of feet in front of him and cleared her throat. “Hi. I…uh…haven’t had a chance to talk to you much this week.”
He nodded. “Seems like you’ve been pretty busy.”
“Yeah, well, you know. There’s a lot to do, and I’m still learning the ropes.” She shifted her feet and glanced down.
A blush colored her cheeks. The scent of her fruity shampoo caught in the breeze, and his jeans grew tighter. Christ, he had to stop this shit. They both had work to do, and he wasn’t some eighteen-year-old with a puppy-love crush on her like Greg. “Look, I think we need—”
“I wanted to—”
Bruce held up a hand. “Sorry. You go first.”
“Oh, that’s okay.” She touched his arm and then drew her hand back like it burned. “What did you want to say?”
Not a chance in hell. She had something on her mind and he’d find out what. “Ladies first.”
She caught her lower lip between her teeth.
Heat shot to his groin. He forced his gaze from her mouth to her eyes.
“About the other—”
Morgan’s convertible raced into the lot, top down.
Shit. Bad timing. Sarah would never talk in front of Morgan. Those two mixed like gunpowder and matches.
Morgan hopped out of the driver’s seat and tossed the keys across the car to him. He caught them one-handed. She gave Sarah a cursory nod as she sauntered to the passenger side, lifted a picnic basket off the seat, and set it in the back.
“Ready?” Morgan flashed him a smile and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Just a second.” He stepped away from her toward Sarah. He had to at least try to find out. “What were you about to say?”
Sarah’s gaze flitted to the picnic basket. She rubbed the back of her neck. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter. Don’t let me hold you up.”
Morgan opened the passenger door and slid in. “We should go if we want to be on time.”
Bruce frowned.
A truck with a horse trailer pulled into the lot. Todd sat behind the wheel. He slowed and stared at Sarah as he passed.
She swallowed hard but didn’t look away from him.
Bruce itched to yank the asshole from his truck and tell him a thing or two about gawking at women. “We might need to reschedule, Morgan.”
“Why?”
Debbie came out of the stables with Greg. They headed to Todd’s trailer.
Morgan shifted in the seat. “I know another person is interested in this horse. I’d hate to miss the chance to see her.”
Damn it to hell. Morgan had set this all up, and he owed it to her and the horse owner to follow through. He glanced at Greg and Debbie as they helped unload Todd’s horse. Sarah should be safe with them around.
“I need to get back to work. See you later.” Sarah spun on her heel and strode toward the stables.
“So we’re good to go?” Morgan asked.
Bruce kept his gaze on Sarah until she disappeared into the barn. He lowered himself into the driver’s seat. “Yeah.”
As he drove, he couldn’t get past Todd leering at Sarah. He showed up at the farm dressed like a model for an equestrian outfitters magazine and acted like everyone should wait on him. Bruce knew guys like him. Rich brats who did what they wanted and paid their way out of trouble. He fought the urge to turn the car around.
“Is something wrong?” Morgan asked.
“What?” Bruce glanced in her direction.
“Nothing.” She waved a hand. “Princess nearly beat Batal the last time we were out.”
“Yeah. She really gave him a run for the money.”
“They’re beautiful together, don’t you think?”
“Uh-huh.” Bruce ground his teeth. He’d seen a flicker of fear in Sarah’s eyes before she’d covered it up. Todd clearly unnerved her.
“I think these ex-racehorses miss the competition. As soon as they get next to each other, their instincts click in. Sometimes it’s like that with people too. You know?”
Despite Morgan trying to have a conversation, Bruce couldn’t get the farm out of his head. He hadn’t seen Joe around. Greg would try to help if Sarah got into trouble, but the gangly guy didn’t pose much of a threat.
Morgan rattled off something else and then tapped his arm.
“Sorry, what?” Bruce blinked.
“I didn’t want you to miss the entrance. Right up there.” She pointed.
He pulled into the farm and parked. “Give me a second. I need to make a call.”
“Okay. I’ll go talk to the seller.” Morgan opened the door and got out.
Bruce dialed Joe.
“What’s up, Bruce?”
“Are you at the farm?”
“Yeah, why?”
The tension in his neck eased. “Just checking. Everything okay there?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”
“No reason. I gotta go. Thanks.” He hung up and shook his head. Sarah made him act like an overprotective idiot. Joe had to wonder why he’d called. But knowing Joe, he wouldn’t press the issue.
Bruce found Morgan and the man selling the horse, who introduced himself and showed them the mare. She had the right temperament for therapy but not the right gait. Too bad she wouldn’t work out. Bruce thanked the seller for his time and explained why she wasn’t a good fit.
On the way back to her car, Morgan hung her head. “I’m so sorry. I thought this might be the one.”
“No problem. It’s hard to know exactly what type works for therapy. I’m sorry you wasted your day.”
She lifted her head and waved her hands. “Hey. It’s gorgeous. We had a nice drive and saw a horse. What’s better than that?”
“All true.” He opened the car door for her.
“Oh, I almost forgot. I packed some snacks in case we wanted to stop by the lake. Do you have time?”
He needed to talk to Sarah and clear the air. “I’m sorry, but I have to get back.”
“Okay. Maybe another time.” She flipped on the radio.
When Bruce pulled into the arena lot, Morgan glanced around. “Where’s your pickup?”
“At the house.” He drove up and parked next to Sarah’s Honda on the side. No sign of the farm truck. Maybe she had taken it into town.
“Hey, there’s something I wanted to ask you.” Morgan shifted in her seat.
“What?” He shut off the engine.
“Well, Sunday’s gonna kind of be a tough day for me.” She fingered the hem of her shirt. “It’s the anniversary of my husband’s death.”
Never easy to get through those. “I’m sorry.”
She sniffled and nodded. “I was wondering if maybe we could ride. It takes my mind off things.”
He had a packed week, but he’d find time. Connecting with a horse sometimes chased the grief away for a short while, as he could attest. He pulled out his phone and checked his calendar. “Does noon work?”
“Sure.” She gave him a sad smile. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Bruce got out and went up the steps to the house. When he entered, the scent of chicken filled the kitchen, and his mouth watered. A large crockpot sat on the counter with a note posted in front of it. Went shopping. Help yourself. There’s bread in the basket. A hand-drawn arrow pointed to it right next to the pot. He snorted.
Sarah had made sure dinner would be ready. Plates, utensils, and napkins were stacked in a neat pile next to the note. He glanced at the table. A vase filled with cut flowers sat in the center.
He ran a hand down his face and sighed. Damn if she hadn’t turned the farmhouse into a home. All Greg could talk about were the breakfasts, and Joe, a man of few words, even raved about them. Somehow, she had managed to bring everyone together.
Growing up as an only child meant meals at Bruce’s house had been quiet, but it didn’t matter because he’d been with family. His heart twisted. What he wouldn’t give to have even one more of them. The image of Sarah sitting with him at the wicker table on the porch flashed in his head.
He paced the kitchen. Somehow, she had found a way past his defenses. When he opened his eyes in the morning, he pictured Sarah’s face. Her smile, the way she cared for the horses, the little things she did behind the scenes, like leaving homemade brownies and lemonade on the bus for the vets after their lesson. He didn’t miss anything, because despite himself, he couldn’t stop watching her. She’d kept her distance all week and still had taken over his dreams. He shook his head.
She didn’t belong there.
Emily did.
He glanced at the door to Sarah’s suite. She may not stay long before she bolted from whatever had her so freaked. Maybe it would be for the best. If she weren’t around, he wouldn’t be plagued by the guilt that accompanied the feelings she stirred. Yet, his protective talons clawed his ribs at the idea of her on the run, panicked, and alone. No, he wouldn’t allow it.
He’d watch for her while he worked in the stables. When she came back, they’d have a talk. Time to find out what she’d wanted to tell him earlier, and what had scared her enough to go into hiding.