He advanced slowly. Fender used one hoof to lightly paw the ground. Yesterday, he’d bolted before Brady could grab the reins. Today looked far more promising. He pulled a carrot from his back pocket. A little briberyneverhurt.
Fender sniffed and shifted his weight slightly as if ready to take a step forward. He eyed Brady warily, but eventually his desire for the treat won. He inched forward and stretched his neck as far as it would reach. Brady didn’t move. He wanted the horse to cometohim.
Another couple of steps brought the stallion face to face with him. The awareness in the animal’s gray eyes connected with something in Brady’s soul. To be taken from a life of pure freedom to a life of restraint wasn’t easy. When he was learning to control his inner bear, he’d fought plenty of battles between the wildness in his soul and the need to contain his power. Ultimately, he’d learned to shiftatwill.
The horse jutted his head forward to snatch the carrot from the palm of Brady’s hand. Fender took a step back. As he chomped on the sweet treat, he continued to watch Brady. When he finished eating, he looked at Bradyexpectantly.
Brady pulled another carrot from the back pocket of his jeans and offered it to the horse. As the animal chewed, Brady slowly reached forward to pet its muzzle. The coarse fur scratched against his palm. With each stroke, he sensed a change in the horse’s attitude. A thin thread of trust linked them together. Brady could build on that. Trust was one of the most important qualities in any relationship, especially in the relationship between a man and hishorse.
After gently gathering the horse’s reins, he led him toward the barn. With winter in full effect, he wanted to get the horse wiped down and blanketed beforenightfall.
The interior of the state-of-the-art barn boasted an industrial-sized heater. Stalls filled with horses lined either side of the large building. At last count, they housed twenty-five horses. When spring came, every one of the horses would need to be trail ready and capable of taking even the greenest rider. He had no doubt he’d have themready.
He grabbed a winter curry comb which he used to brush sweat and dirt out of Fender’s fur. Ever aware of the horse’s fragile temperament, he carefully navigated the space around his ears, behind his elbows, along his girth area, and under his jaw. He finished by towelinghimoff.
Once he’d secured a blanket over the horse, he offered him another carrot. “Goodjob,boy.”
The horse chomped greedily. When he finished, he flicked his head up as if to thank him. Brady stroked his muzzle. He was a fine creature and would be a great saddle horse once he’d beenbrokenin.
Satisfied with the day’s work, Brady stepped out of the stall and checked the other horses. He turned off the lights as he went, then closed and secured the barn doors. He couldn’t wait to step into a hotshower.
As he strode up toward the main house, the scent of fresh-baked apple pie and some kind of roasted meat permeated the air. He sniffed in appreciation as his inner bear roared with approval. Their cook, Sarah Fink, had outdone herself again. If she ever left the ranch, they’d probablystarve.
Lights glowed from every window of the lodge-like home. A glittering Christmas tree sparkled through the lightly frosted living room window. A giant wreath of fresh pine branches and dried lemons decorated the front door. Christmas was a little over two weeks away, but he could hardly wait. He and his five brothers did everything in their power to recreate the magic they’d experienced as children. They kept up all the old traditions as a way of honoring their mom. She’d passed away two years ago and Brady still felt the loss as if it had beenyesterday.
He stepped onto the wraparound porch and sat on the wooden bench swing. He slid one boot off, then the other. The crunch of footsteps sounded along the gravel driveway. They weren’t expecting guests for another week. When he looked up, his heart dropped through hisstomach.
Rachel.
Bundled in a huge red snow coat, the face that haunted his dreams stared back at him. Long, curly tendrils of chestnut hair bobbed with each step she took in his direction. The luminous green eyes he’d spent hours gazing into regarded him warily. Every inch of her luscious curves filled out a pair of skin-tightjeans.
He stood on shaky legs, completely forgetting that he only wore socks. “Rachel?”
She whispered, “You’re not inAfghanistan.”
A rush of anger tightened his muscles. Every hurtful word she’d hurled at him came back in a rush. The last time he’d seen her, she’d swore she’d never speak to him again. She’d called him a coward and had claimed he’d never really loved her. She hadn’t understood his decision to leave, and he’d never forgotten the look of betrayal inhereyes.
He tensed. “What are youdoinghere?”
Chapter2
Rachel shivered lessfrom the cold than from the look on Brady’s face. The initial shock of seeing him vanished as anger flashed inhiseyes.
“What are you doing here?” hedemanded.
She fought to keep her voice steady. “I didn’t know youwereback.”
“I’ve been back two months. I thought you’d moved toBozeman.”
“Idid.”
He didn’t say anything. As the silence stretched between them, she tried to ignore the way the long-sleeved plaid shirt stretched across his huge biceps. She pretended not to notice his broad chest or thick, muscle-boundthighs.
How many times had she wrapped her legs around his narrow waist? How many times had she peeled his shirt off to reveal the thick patch of wiry hair on his chest? How many times had she kissed the sensitive spot on the side of his neck where it met hiscollarbone?
She shivered and looked away as white-hot fire rushed through her body. She hadn’t seen him in four years, and yet she knew he’d smell of nutmeg if she wrapped her arms around him. He’d taste like red wine and warm summer nights. His flesh would tremble under her roaming hands. And if she ever got him naked again, she knew he’d still be harder, thicker, and more virile than any man she’devermet.
He cleared his throat. “Why are youreallyhere?”
