She turned off the light and left the bathroom and got into bed, her mind still whirling with questions. To her surprise, she fell asleep almost immediately.
The scent of freshly brewed coffee and frying bacon awoke her the next morning. She was shocked to realize it was after eight, later than she normally slept. She’d expected Tyler to show her the horse and be on the road by this time. He had an important job to get to.
Maybe it was the cook fixing breakfast and Tyler had already left for work, she thought as she dressed in the clothes she had worn the night before.
He’d probably arranged for a ranch hand to show her the horse and then he’d call her later in the day to see if she was interested in working with the wild filly.
Once dressed and with her teeth brushed and hair combed, she followed her nose down the hallway and through the great room to find a large, airy kitchen and Tyler standing with his back to her in front of the stove.
Tight jeans cupped his taut butt and clung to his long legs. He also wore a blue flannel shirt and was barefoot. She’d never seen him so casually dressed and so relaxed. It was definitely a good look on him.
“Good morning,” she said.
He whirled around and smiled at her. “Back at you. Coffee is in the carafe—help yourself—and bacon and eggs will be ready in just a few minutes.”
“What can I do to help?” She walked to the counter with the coffee machine and an awaiting cup.
“Nothing. Just have a seat at the table and relax.”
She poured her coffee and carried it to the round glass-topped kitchen table. “Don’t you have household help?” she asked, realizing for the first time that she’d seen no staff since she’d arrived the night before.
“I have the house cleaned once every two weeks by a team that comes in and I have a laundry service that picks up dirty clothes each week, but other than that I don’t keep anyone full-time except two ranch hands. I spend so many hours at work that it seemed silly to me to have cooks or maids just hanging around all day with nothing to do.”
“Speaking of work, shouldn’t you be there now?” she asked.
He forked bacon out of the skillet and onto an awaiting platter covered with a paper towel. “I took the day off. How do you like your eggs?”
“However you make them,” she replied. “You have a reputation as a workaholic. Do you often take days off?”
“I can’t remember the last time I didn’t go into work. But the company can run fine without me. I have a great general manager, and if any problems arise, somebody will call me.” He cracked several eggs into a bowl, added a dollop of milk and began to whisk the concoction.
“Mark never had any problems taking time off,” she said. “And he’s vice president of the company.”
“It’s a title, not a life calling, for Mark. Mark likes to think of himself as a trust-fund baby. Unfortunately, there was very little trust fund other than the family business. Mark shot through his cash in the first two years after my parents’ deaths.”
He paused to pour the eggs into the skillet. “Mark has always preferred play over work.” There was no censure in his voice. It was just a statement of fact that Greta knew to be true.
Greta sipped her coffee and wondered now how she’d ever thought she could find happiness with Mark. She’d suspected from the very beginning of their relationship that he was cheating on her. She knew he didn’t possess much of a work ethic. They’d had very little in common and had never really talked about what their future together would look like.
But he had been so charming and attentive when they were together, and he’d always managed to sweep away her suspicions about him and other women. Tyler was right. Marrying Mark would have been a terrible mistake.
Greta shunned the limelight and Mark craved it. She loved her work as a horse trainer and he’d been bored by it. Despite their engagement and wedding plans, Mark’s interest in her had begun to wane the minute he’d found out she wasn’t a blood Colton but rather adopted. A recent fact that had been revealed that she was still trying to come to terms with herself.
“Here we go.” Tyler set a plate in front of her and then took a seat next to her at the table with his own plate in front of him.
“Thank you, but you really didn’t have to cook me breakfast. You could have just shown me the horse and I’d have been on my way.”
He grinned, his blue eyes sparkling in amusement. “But then I wouldn’t have the pleasure of your company while I ate breakfast.”
“Do you cook breakfast for all the women you sleep with?” she asked, and a faint warmth filled her cheeks.
“All the women I sleep with?” He raised an eyebrow. “If you knew how few women I’ve slept with over the last couple of years, you’d feel sorry for me and offer to be my lover every single night.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “You’re a piece of work, Tyler Stanton.”
“Yes, I am, but what I’m saying is true. I’m not a player, Greta.”
“Then what are you doing with me?”
He sobered and gazed at her for a long moment. “To be honest, I’m not really sure, but I like what I’m doing with you so far. Now, eat up before it gets cold.”
While they ate, she was grateful that he kept up a light conversation, talking about the changes he’d made to Stanton Oil since his parents had died in a car accident ten years ago. At twenty-two he’d stepped in as president of the company and eventually had appointed his two-years-younger brother as vice president.
“I had to work twice as hard and twice as long as anyone else to earn the respect of my employees. To most of them I was a snot-nosed kid who’d just graduated from college with a business degree but didn’t have the age or wisdom to run the company.”
“But you proved them all wrong,” she replied. She knew how respected Tyler was in the business world.
“It took time but I now enjoy a good relationship with everyone who works for me,” he replied with a touch of pride in his voice.
She was vaguely surprised that there was no morning-after awkwardness. He was warm and easy to talk to, showing her a side of him she’d never seen before.
By the time they’d finished eating and she’d helped him with the cleanup, she was ready to see the horse he’d told her about.
He helped her into her coat and then he donned a casual leather jacket and they left the house by a back door in the kitchen. In the distance several outbuildings rose up, certainly nothing like the big cattle operation at the Colton ranch but enough pasture and room for a few horses.
The early-November sun was warm, and as they drew closer, she identified the outbuildings as a small barn and stables. There were two corrals, a large one in the distance and a smaller one with a shedlike structure that would provide shelter from the weather. In the small corral a black Thoroughbred filly danced nervously as they approached.
“Oh, Tyler, she’s beautiful,” Greta exclaimed.
“And so far completely unbreakable,” he replied.
When they reached the fence, the filly backed to the opposite side. She pawed the ground and shook her head in a show of spirited temperament.
The excitement of a new challenge rose up in Greta. “She has good lines. Do you intend to race her?”
“No, nothing like that. I just want to be able to ride her. I want her to trust somebody and find some peace.”
Greta