Fear Of Falling. Catherine Lanigan

over her apology. She had a pert mouth with a full bottom lip that was naturally pink. No lipstick. In fact, he didn’t see much makeup at all on her. Her cheeks were red from embarrassment or being caught red-handed; he didn’t know which. He’d have to get his mother to corroborate her story later.

      “I love horses,” she explained. “I’ve always thought they were God’s most majestic animal.”

      “Don’t tell that to any cat lover,” he joked, shifting his weight. “So, you ride, then?”

      “Your mother asked me the same thing. I don’t. But I was around horses a lot as a kid with my friend Sarah Jensen—Bosworth now—when we went to her dressage classes.” She lowered her gaze as if deep in thought. “There were other times I was around horses, too.” She paused for a long moment.

      Rafe couldn’t imagine what was going on with her, but he noticed that her shoulders slumped and a frown plowed across her forehead. Whatever she was remembering, it wasn’t good.

      “I’m not sure I’d be good at riding,” she continued.

      “You just need instruction and practice,” he said brightly, hoping to lift her spirits. “You certainly don’t seem to be afraid of horses. For most people, that’s half the battle.”

      “Afraid.” She said the word as if considering its meaning. “Not exactly.” She smiled at him, but it was forced. Her eyes were guarded; she was definitely holding something back.

      His own curiosity surprised him. He wanted to know what that something was. Olivia was a total stranger to him, yet he was responding to her as if he’d known her for some time. Maybe it was their shared love of horses. Maybe his grief-torn heart just wanted a distraction from the reality of his father’s death. If he was guilty of using her to ease his pain, he didn’t care. At this moment he felt better. He felt as if he was breaking out of prison.

      “Is it all right that I took a couple photos in here? I’m a photographer. An amateur. I mean, not professional by any means,” she equivocated.

      He took in the expensive-looking Pentax camera suspended from a strap around her neck. “I don’t know anything about cameras. But I’m guessing you didn’t buy that at Walmart.”

      Her ivory skin turned blotchy crimson-red. She touched the zoom lens daintily.

      He didn’t know what trigger he’d just pulled, but something had hit home. He was fascinated.