“Traitor,” I say to Bally, not lowering my voice.
Candice just lets out a laugh that sounds more like a bark, and pushes her wild blonde hair out of her face, tucking it back behind the rim of her hat. The movement draws my attention away from Ballantine and towards her face. Despite the laugh, she’s already glowering at me, her mouth set in a line, her whiskey-colored eyes flashing. It’s not lost on me that she has eyes the same color as my horse, and the same color as his namesake.
“Where did you come from?” I ask.
“I was walking around the front of the barn and it looked and sounded like you needed some help,” she says, shrugging.
“With my own horse?”
“Yep,” she says. “Look, owning a horse doesn’t always mean being good with horses, Nathan and it’s?—”
“It’s Nate,” I growl, because no one calls me Nathan anymore.
“Whatever, Nathan.”
My dirty traitor of a horse leans his head forward, giving the devil a sniff. And stupidly, I flick my wrist, pulling him back a bit. Candice, of course, notices immediately.
“What? Not even your horse is allowed to like me?” she bites out.
“He does not like you.” But I release the tension in the rope, because Bally can sniff whoever he wants to sniff, and I’m confident I’m his favorite.
“Sure he doesn’t,” she says, reaching out and rubbing his muzzle a bit. The light catches her hair, making the honey strands shimmer. Which is not something I should be noticing but I guess I can’t help it. I’ve always had a thing for blondes.
I clear my throat. “Can you, uh, show me where Bally’s going to be boarded? I want to get him settled. He doesn’t like the trailer.”
Her face softens at that. Horses, it would seem, are the way to Candice Wilson’s hard as nails heart.
“Sure, just follow me.” She turns on her heel and marches towards the barn.
And that’s when I notice that Beau’s little sister has a delectable peach of an ass, wrapped tightly in a pair of weathered jeans. As she walks, her hips sway and I can’t look away.
Maybe all Candice Wilson needs is a good fuck,I think.
No. Bad, Nathan. Bad. No going after Beau’s little sister, my conscience says back.
But she’d look so good bent over and begging?—
“I’m charging you twelve hundred dollars a month,” Candice says, and the dirty fantasy I was having comes to a screeching halt.
“That’s double the price of the best barns around.”
“So?” she says, spinning to face me, hand on her hip. “Are you saying Star Mountain isn’t the best?”
“I’m saying it’s seen better days.” I look pointedly at the rusted handles on the sliding stable doors.
“Well, we don’t all have millions of dollars in prize money and endorsements sitting around. We’re a charity,” she sniffs.
Okay, I probably deserved that one, and I have no problem with the state Star Mountain is in or what they do. In fact, I donate to a similar charity near the family ranch every year. But she’s still trying to rob me blind.
“Fine. But twelve hundred is a lot. Is it full care?”
“No,” she says. “Because again, we’re a charity and my team doesn’t have time for another horse. We’ll provide the food, but you’ll be grooming and making sure he gets turned out.”
“Then what, exactly, am I paying for?” I ask. Beside me, Bally starts bobbing his head up and down, and stomps again. He’s always cranky after a long time on the road.
“For the privilege of being here,” Candice says, and then she turns around and walks into the stable.
“Conversation over then, I guess,” I mutter, following behind her with Bally, and keeping my eyes firmly on her shoulders.
