Sarah washed and dried her glass. Bruce had turned and looked in her direction a couple of hours ago when she’d come out onto the porch, but he hadn’t waved or acknowledged her. He was probably still pissed over the gun. She’d jeopardized his program. So far, Debbie hadn’t fired her. Bruce must have left out the details of who he’d found in the woods. Sarah would try to make it up to him somehow.
Ugh. What a mess.
Maybe she could apologize again and find out if she’d caused him to lose the new patients. She checked her watch. Charlie would be coming for his therapy soon so she’d have to wait until after to talk to Bruce.
She locked the back door to the suite and rounded the corner to find Todd standing next to her car, peering into the driver’s window. Her heart jumped, and she stopped short.
“Hi. This yours?” He straightened and leaned against the side of his Vette, which was parked next to her car.
“What are you doing up here?” She glanced around, but no one was in sight.
“You answer my question, and I’ll answer yours.” He gave her a toothy crocodile smile.
Her pulse raced. She had to get away before he made her his next meal. She shouldn’t have let Bruce talk her into staying. “I don’t have time for this.”
“How about I drive you down to the barn?” He patted the roof of his car. “I bet you’ve never been in a ride like this.”
“No, thanks.” She took a couple steps to go around the side of her car.
“You don’t know what you’re missing. One spin in this and driving that Honda of yours will feel like punishment. Come on, you deserve it.”
Her stomach dropped, and she faltered a step. Punishment. Audrey made that fatal mistake and needed to be punished for it, but I know you won’t. It could be a coincidence that he’d used the word punishment, or maybe he was taunting her. She met his leering gaze across the car. Alone, without her gun, she wasn’t going to take him on. “I’m good. Gotta run.”
She jogged toward the stables and didn’t look back. His engine hummed to life, and she picked up her pace. He wouldn’t try to run her over in broad daylight unless he was crazy. A psycho. Okay. Maybe he would. She reached the barn gasping for air.
Lynn led Misty out of her stall. “Something wrong?”
Sarah swiped her forehead and peered out the stable entrance. “Not sure. Do you know what Todd was doing up at the house? I found him out by my car.”
Lynn frowned. “No. He was asking around for Debbie earlier. Maybe he went looking for her.”
“Maybe.” Sarah glanced back at the driveway.
“Be careful around that guy. I’ve seen him watching you.”
“I’m trying. He seems to pop up out of nowhere.” Her gaze followed Todd’s car as it disappeared around a bend in the driveway.
“Have you seen Bruce?” Lynn tied Misty to a ring.
Sarah shook her head. “Not recently. He was with Joe earlier this morning.”
“This isn’t like him. He’s always here early for the sessions.” Lynn frowned. “Charlie’s due soon.”
“Need some help tacking up?”
“It’s your day off. I don’t want you to have to work.”
“I don’t mind. I’m not busy.” Sarah shrugged.
“If you’re sure, then thanks. I would ask Becca or Lori, but they’re riding. God knows they earn the time as hard as they work around here.”
Sarah grabbed a brush and tried to sound casual. “Bruce mentioned having some new patients this morning. How did it go?”
“Well, there was a little excitement with some idiot shooting in the woods, but he took care of it, and the vets are coming back next week, so I guess all’s well.”
Her chest lightened. Thank God. At least she hadn’t lost him his new clients. It might be best to change the subject from the shooter. She didn’t want to open that can of worms. “Misty’s such a great therapy horse.”
“I know. We’re hoping to get another one soon. Morgan and Bruce have been looking.”
“Morgan?” Sarah glanced up at Lynn.
Lynn nodded. “She’s donating a horse to the program.”
“She is?”
“I know. Shocks me too.” Lynn picked up one of Misty’s hooves to check.
“Why would she do that? Is she somehow affiliated with the program?”
“No. If you ask me, she’s just trying to impress Bruce. He can afford to buy the horse, but he says it will make Morgan feel good to contribute.” She shook her head.
“Not a fan of hers?” At least Sarah wasn’t the only one.
“Nope. I don’t like the way she treats the young girls. Becca and Lori bust their butts around here, and she gets on their backs if they don’t have her horse tacked and ready the second she walks in.” She picked up another hoof to check. “If Morgan really cared about her horse, she’d groom and tack it herself.”
Sarah frowned. Coming from Lynn, who could find the good in Attila the Hun, that said a lot. “Bruce seems to like her well enough.”
“I’ve known him a long time. As smart as he is, when it comes to women he can be a little dense.” Lynn sighed. “I think he feels sorry for Morgan for some reason. She puts up quite the show around him, and she’s good at it, being an actress.”
“I didn’t know she was.”
“Yup. Used to be in a soap opera out in California. Now she does shampoo commercials in New York.”
That’s why she looked familiar. “Why does she live here?”
“No idea. I don’t know how often she films. Clearly has plenty of spare time to ride.”
Bruce entered the stables and made his way to them in quick strides. “Sorry, Lynn, I’m pushing the time today.”
“Is everything okay?” Lynn cocked her head.
“Yeah. Need help with Misty?”
“No. We have it. I’ll meet you by the arena.”
Bruce nodded and turned.
Sarah gazed at Bruce’s rigid back as he left the stables. Even when he’d been mad at her about the gun incident, he hadn’t outright ignored her. And his face, so cold and detached. A frown or a scowl at least showed some emotion. He was the one who’d convinced her to stay. If she made him so uncomfortable, he should have urged her to leave.
Lynn’s brows came together. “What’s today’s date?”
Sarah checked her watch. “May seventeenth.”
“Now it makes sense.” Lynn shook her head.
“What does?”
Lynn’s lips compressed until they disappeared. She picked up a saddle pad and placed it on Misty. “Nothing I can talk about. Bruce wouldn’t appreciate it.”
“Oh.” Sarah stepped away from the horse, unsure what else to say.
She glanced one last time at him. In his current mood, she didn’t dare approach him. Tomorrow she’d make him some muffins and try again to apologize.
The morning sun shined through the crack between the suite’s curtains. Sarah wrapped the muffins she’d made in clear plastic and placed them in a shallow box with no lid. They’d turned out better than she’d expected. The juicy, bright blueberries had burst and blended with the glittery sugar, swirling color through the tops. Not bad, considering her limited baking skills.
Someone knocked. “It’s Joe.”
He always made sure to announce himself, like he knew she would be nervous about a stranger showing up.
When she opened the door, he wiped a paint-splattered sleeve across his brow. “Finished with your car. I put a couple gallons of gas in, but you’ll need to take it to the station to fill.”
Her hard stomach loosened. Now she could leave if things went south with Bruce. Not that she had anywhere to go yet.
“Thanks. What do I owe you?”
“Eh.” Joe waved a hand smeared with copper rust stains. “Don’t worry about it. Buddy didn’t charge me for the tank. Had it on the lot.”
“Oh no. I want to pay for your time as well.” She didn’t want to accept charity, and he’d done more than he should to help her.
“Save your money. Bad news is you’re gonna need it for other repairs. I looked the car over.”
A nerve in her neck stung. “What’s wrong?”
“Radiator’s rusted almost through, tires are bald, and probably needs new brakes.” His mouth twisted to the side. “Won’t get many more miles out of it without more work.”
Shit. She didn’t have the money for repairs, and if she could only reach the next town, that wasn’t much of an escape plan.
“Hey, no sad faces.” He shook a finger at her. “They sell used tires, and Buddy can keep an eye out for a radiator.”
Neither of those answers solved her immediate problem. And she couldn’t expect Joe to keep bailing her out. “I appreciate that. All the more reason I insist on paying for the gas tank.”
Joe cocked his head and sniffed. “Swear I smell cake or something.”
If he was trying to change the subject, it wouldn’t work. “I baked muffins. Now about—”
“How about a barter? I’ll take one of them.”
“That’s hardly a trade.” She stepped to the counter and fetched the box. “You can have all of these, but it’s still not enough.”
He licked his lips, and his eyes grew wide as wagon wheels. “Deal. No more money talk. Haven’t ordered carryout since you showed up. Call us even.”
“Okay, for now. Thanks.” She’d rather pay him, but he did seem to appreciate her cooking. Maybe that meant more to him than a few bucks. She’d have to make more muffins for Bruce, but it was worth the look on Joe’s face. The warmth in her chest ebbed as she eyed her last stick of butter in the dish. The new batch would have to turn out just as good.
Joe nodded and left, carrying the box like it held the triple-crown trophy.
She shut the door and pressed a hand to her chest. With no idea how far the car might go before it blew out a tire or overheated, more than ever, she needed to stay at the farm. Her heart thumped fast.
She whipped up another batch of muffins, tossed them in the oven, and headed to the shower. Joe’s words about the car needing work rattled around in her head, and she lingered under the jet of water aimed at her bunched-up neck muscles.
While she brushed her hair, the stench of something burning seeped into the bathroom. Damn it. She raced to the kitchen and yanked the oven door open. Black smoke rose from spilled batter in the bottom. She snagged a dishtowel by the sink and whisked the tray out.
Steam from the damp rag she held burned her fingers. With a yelp, she tossed the hot pan onto the counter. She turned on the spigot and held her red, throbbing fingers under the cold water. A glance at the blacktopped, charred muffins confirmed her fears. Uneatable.
Her hopes for sweetening her apology to Bruce sank to the soles of her feet. She dug out a potholder and moved the tray to the sink. It hissed when it hit the water and spit dark bits of muffin onto her white T-shirt. She cursed and shut off the spigot.
Spinning on her heel, she gasped. Scorch marks marred the countertop. Her lungs collapsed like a flopped soufflé. This couldn’t be happening. Now she’d damaged Debbie’s kitchen. She’d owe more money than she made at this rate. With a groan, she stomped to the family room and plopped down on the couch.
Holding her head in her hands, she took a deep, shaky breath. One problem at a time. The car needed gas. She’d go to town and get whatever she needed to fix the counter from the hardware store along with a newspaper to check out the help-wanted ads. If Bruce had changed his mind overnight about her staying, she needed a place to go and a ready car.
He’d scribbled something on his calendar in the barn for noon. She could be back in plenty of time to catch him before he left for the day. Armed with a plan, she changed her shirt, snagged her purse, and headed to the Honda.
A full tank of gas later, Sarah drove past the arena and spotted Bruce’s parked truck. Nervous energy revved. She might need it if he acted like he had yesterday afternoon. Cold, detached, and expressionless.
She entered her suite and opened the newspaper on the counter. If the car couldn’t take her far, she’d have to hide someplace close until she had other options. A quick scan of the jobs drained her energy faster than a cellphone with too many apps open. She tore out one listing for help wanted at a produce farm not too far away. Dirt pay, hard labor, and no lodging, but if she got desperate…
She rolled her shoulders. Time to find Bruce and figure out her fate. She left the suite, locking the door behind her. Her gaze traveled the fields dotted with riders. It was a warm spring Sunday, and most of the boarders had shown up.
Bruce was nowhere in sight. He might be in the barn or riding farther out. She checked the stables. Batal’s stall sat empty. Maybe she should leave a note on Bruce’s truck for him to stop up to see her before he left.
A horse whinnied outside the entrance, and she turned. Morgan and Bruce stood close, holding the lead lines of Batal and Princess.
Morgan’s name must have been the scrawl on the calendar that Sarah couldn’t make out. Ugh. She would have to wait until the Ice Queen left to talk to him.
Moving even closer to Bruce, Morgan slid a hand up his chest to rest on his cheek. He gazed down at her, but the glaring sun made it impossible for Sarah to see his expression. Morgan eased into his arms and they embraced.
Sarah’s throat closed. Of course, they were together. Just because he had some sort of attraction to Sarah didn’t mean he would ever do anything about it. That was probably why he acted so hot and cold with her. She blinked fast several times. She’d been an idiot to ignore the signs that he and Morgan were a couple.
Before Sarah could get away, Morgan sashayed into the barn leading Princess. Bruce led Batal back toward the arena.
A Cheshire cat grin formed on Morgan’s face. “Something wrong?”
“No.” Sarah moved to pass her.
Morgan clicked her tongue. “Tsk, tsk. You’re not a very good liar. Bruce and I don’t keep secrets from each other; maybe you shouldn’t either.”
The blood drained from Sarah’s limbs. Oh God. He’d told Morgan about the stalker.
Sarah stumbled and fell over a bucket someone had left in the aisle, scraping her hands on the hard dirt.
Morgan let out a throaty laugh. “Oops. What happened to those graceful moves of yours?”
Sarah shoved off the ground and marched out of the barn toward the house. Betrayal burned in her breast with every step. Bruce had probably mentioned that she used to dance and lived in California. Morgan was mocking her about being a ballerina. It wouldn’t take much for her to figure out Sarah’s identity with that information. Since Morgan used to live there and worked in the entertainment business, she might still have contacts. She could leak something about Sarah’s whereabouts.
She’d heard that men would tell a woman anything in bed, but she’d never believed it of Bruce. He’d made her a promise. That’s what she got for opening up to a man. Morgan hated her. She’d blab the secret to everyone and blow Sarah’s cover.
Her head pounded in time with her swift feet.
She had no choice but to leave.