“You could be the perfect fake date.”
He pretended to be modest. “I didn’t say it.”
“It’s like you’ve done this before,” she said and he shrugged.
“Three proms.”
“No, more than that.”
Hunter kept his gaze averted for so long that she was sure he wouldn’t answer her. She was startled when he did. “The whole society thing takes me back.”
“Back where?”
“I grew up in Westchester County.”
Chloe was surprised for him to mention the affluent neighborhood. “You come from money?”
“No.” Hunter chuckled. “We weren’t fancy people, but we knew them. We worked for them. My parents boarded horses, trained them, taught people to ride. It was kind of nice to deck out Ella. We had a mare who always ate the flowers, too.”
“Are your parents still there?”
“No, they’ve passed away.” His tone was carefully controlled, as if that life had happened to someone else. “We sold the farm, divided the money. It’s all gone.”
“That’s why you don’t have a home anymore.”
“It’s better that way. We could never have kept it up.” He frowned, his thumb stroking her hand as he remembered. “I miss the horses, though. Riding competitions and endless shows.” He heaved a sigh, reinforcing his barriers again with a joke. “All those girls learning to ride and all those haystacks to roll around in. At the time, it seemed like endless work, but after it was gone, I realized it was idyllic.”
Maybe it even had something to do withRhinestone Cowboy.
He met her gaze steadily. “So, there you go. Happy with your secret?”
Chloe stared back at him and only wanted more. Hunter might have sensed that, though, because he leaned forward and talked to Reg about horses and apparently about old friends.
“You should come out to the farm and ride,” Reg said.
“You just want to put me to work,” Hunter replied easily. “Free labor.”
“Well, there’s always lots to do. Do you keep up with anybody?”
Hunter shook his head. “It’s all in the past. I’d have nothing to talk to anyone about.”
Again, Chloe sensed that he had regrets.
“Then you don’t know,” Reg said, casting a smile over his shoulder. “My dad bought Duchess.”
Hunter frowned and looked at the park. Chloe saw his throat work. “I thought she was out west. Montana or something.”
Whoever Duchess was, Chloe would have bet that Hunter had known exactly where she was.
“Well, she doesn’t compete anymore and her breeding days are coming to an end. My dad heard she was for sale, so he bought her. He said a dressage horse like Duchess deserved a great retirement.”
“She does,” Hunter said with heat. He was still avoiding Chloe’s gaze.
“Who’s Duchess?” she asked Reg, knowing Hunter wouldn’t tell her.
“A great mare that Hunter trained and rode. They competed and everything. Whatever happened to all those blue ribbons?”
“Char has them in a box in her basement,” Hunter said.
