Harrington’s face darkened. “Fern, I don’t want—”
“What’s this now?” I interjected.
For a second or two, the siblings just stared at me. Fern came to her senses first, probably realizing that it would be rude to ignore me or cut me out. She was dressed more professionally than her brother, in slacks and a short-sleeved blouse, so I had a feeling she didn’t deal with the horses directly. Or at least she wasn’t today.
“I run the event barn on the east end of our property,” she said, her tone clipped but friendly enough. “Part of promotion is, of course, social media. All the apps. My post yesterday has gone viral. In large part due to the rescue cattle herd and Dad and Mal on horseback in the background. I need to capitalize on that while I can.”
“That’s smart,” I praised. Harrington shot me a look. I scowled right back, then lifted a brow. “What? That’s just good business. It’s part of Blue Creek Ranch, is it not?”
“It is,” Fern answered, drawing my attention. “Part of the charm of hosting an event here is the sights of a working horse ranch. I don’t carewhypeople are clicking on the posts and commenting. Just that they are. Most of that engagement won’t amount to anything, but it feeds the algorithm and puts our name out there. It will drive business.”
“That’s one hundred percent true,” I agreed, just because it would irritate Harrington. His frown darkened and if looks could kill, I would be dead on the ground.
“There are sixty-odd horses on this ranch. More than two dozen people. Use one of them,” Harrington grumbled.
“But Humphrey is so pretty!”
Harrington let out a sigh. “So use him and stage something with Mal or Gemma. Mal can handle him and your sister likes the spotlight. Leave me out of it.”
Fern’s face lit up. “I can? That’s okay?”
“Yeah. Fine. Just go, okay?”
Fern squealed and grabbed her brother in a hug. “Thanks, Brubby!”
And she was off. I turned to watch her for a few seconds, then looked back at Harrington. His face was a storm cloud, and he was leaning on the top rail. Even though he was staring into the arena, he wasn’t focused on Ramona, who was still ambling around and smelling stuff.
I let him sit in his quiet for a couple of minutes. Then, “Humphrey?”
“My gelding,” Harrington answered, almost reluctantly. “He’s a Friesian cross, so she’s not wrong. He is pretty.”
I didn’t know what that meant, because I didn’t know horse breeds, so I just let that lie and focused on my next question. “Is Gemma only Fern’s sister?”
Harrington jerked his head up. “What?”
He seemed offended by the question. I held up a hand. “You said ‘your sister’ when you mentioned her. So I wondered.”
His shoulders relaxed a fraction, though he was still vibrating with tension. “Oh. No. She’s ours. That’s just how we talk.”
I nodded and did the mental math. “So is it just the four of you?”
It took him a second to connect the dots. Then he was scowling again. “No. Did you even look us up before you wired me an obscene amount of money and demanded a particular horse?”
Oh hewascranky. But suddenly, it wasn’t pissing me off anymore. Instead, I found it ridiculously endearing and I couldn’t help poke at it. “Nope. That’s what I have an assistant for.”
“Of course you do,” he growled. “Goddamn it, Cahill. Why’d you even buy a horse? You know nothing about them. About us. But I guess if you have money to burn that doesn’t matter, huh?”
I wasn’t about to explain to him my longest-held desire. I barely knew him, and while I trusted him to train my horse, we weren’t friends. If I hadn’t told Marielle the reason I wanted this particular horse, I sure as shit wasn’t going to share with him.
But I needed to get back to a good place, because we were tied together for the foreseeable future. And really, if I were completely honest, something about him revved my engine. I knew his voice played a part in that. And nothing would happen, because it couldn’t, but at least we could be civil.
“It doesn’t matter why,” I said, working to keep my tone even. “What matters is I don’t do anything half-assed. Which is why I contracted with you. I think we got off on the wrong foot. Let’s start over. I’m Carter Cahill. Please call me Carter. I would like you to train my horse.”
I thrust out my hand. Harrington stared at me for a long, tense moment. Then he grumbled and shook my hand.
“Hawk.”
I hid the grin that wanted to escape. He wouldn’t appreciate it. Instead, I turned back to Ramona, who had moved closer. I held out a hand and she trotted over, letting me pet her face and neck.
