“Thanks for showing me around. I’ll spend some time getting acquainted.”
Buck nodded. “Good luck, Jake,” Buck said as he jumped down from the fence. He stopped and looked at the stallion, then at Jake. The horse had moved closer to the fence where Jake was perched. Not exactly friendly. Jake simply made eye contact and slowly sank down into himself, holding the animal’s hostile gaze. Some people who watched him called it The Zone, but for Jake it was a thought-free state beyond being present but in touch with presence itself—the natural state of being for horses. How they lived life. In the moment.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Buck’s lips part and his brows rise, but Jake kept all his attention on Zorro. The horse’s ears flicked forward, then went back. He took another step forward. There was a noise from inside the barn and Zorro whirled and trotted to the end of the fence. His message was clear. It was going to take more than a positive attitude to gain this animal’s trust.
Buck said softly, “Well, I’ll be jiggered and left.”
“I’m not paying you good money to stand around and stare at him,” a sardonic voice said from Jake’s left. He turned to meet the cold blue eyes of Fowler Colton, dressed in a pricey Stetson and a charcoal-gray business suit with Western accents across his broad shoulders, his brown hair neat around his ears. The oil baron dabbling in horse-trading. It was an interesting prospect since Fowler had no interest in the stables previously.
“I think I left my fairy wand in my other jeans.”
Fowler’s eyes narrowed. “Is that supposed to be funny?”
“No, it’s to remind you miracles don’t happen overnight. You hired me to do a job. Let me do the job.”
“Not many men stand up to me without consequences, McCord.”
Jake had never been a yes-man. He’d been his own man and stated his opinion. He often worked in a system that ate a man whole and spit him out. He realized he shouldn’t have been so flippant, but Jake recognized something right away. Fowler respected a man who could hold his own and would most likely trust someone who wasn’t a kiss ass. “But you come highly recommended, so you get one pass.”
“It takes time to rehabilitate a horse, Mr. Colton. If you aim to breed him with the best results, you’ll give me the time and patience I need to give you the value of that good money you paid.”
Fowler stepped closer, his wintery eyes assessing Jake and recognition flared. Yeah, that’s right, Jake was an alpha, too. “Is that so, son? I’d say get on with it. I’m not in the business of throwing away money and that stallion was pricey. Make it work.”
“In good time.”
Fowler turned to go, but almost collided with a pimply-faced teenager leading a mare. “Watch where the hell you’re going!” Fowler said, and the teenager quickly apologized.
“What is your name?”
“Mike, sir.”
“Well, Mike, I’ll have you off this spread so fast your head will swim.”
“He deeply apologizes, sir. Don’t you, Mike?”
A tall, good-looking cowboy intervened just before Jake was about to open his mouth and try to smooth it over.
“Yes, sir. Deeply.”
Fowler gave both of them one more glaring look and strode off on his pricey hand-tooled boots.
“Better get Jo back to the barn now, Mike.”
They had a quick conversation about being more careful, even though it was Fowler who wasn’t looking where he was going.
The older guy faced Jake and said, “Hey, there. Saw you at breakfast but didn’t get a chance to say howdy. Dylan Harlow and that’s Mike Jensen. He’s one of Alanna’s troubled teens. Good kid.”
“Jake McCord.”
Dylan took off his hat and ran his hand through his dark hair, then jammed his hat back on. “Whew, still a mite warm for September.”
“Figure it is.”
“You the guy they hired to handle Zorro?”
“I am that man.”
“Boy howdy, you got your work cut out for you and I don’t just mean Zorro. Good luck,” he said as he sauntered off.
Jake nodded, looking in the direction Fowler had taken. Jake was sure the CEO of Colton Incorporated wasn’t done breathing down his neck.
At the end of the day, feeling the effects of the heat, the dirt and the slow start with Zorro, Jake headed for his apartment and the meal he was sure Miss Ellen would be cooking. After the initial meeting with Zorro, Jake found the rest of the afternoon to be frustrating as he tried to get closer to the animal. But it was as if he was off for some reason. He wondered if it could be Alanna. She did knock him for a loop.
As he approached, the aroma of beef and other delectable scents hit him as he entered the apartments. Ellen was at the stove and she waved to him as he climbed the stairs, his stomach grumbling.
In his newly appointed apartment, he stripped, opened the linen closet and discovered there were no towels. There was a knock at the door and he hastily pulled on his jeans, zipping them but in his hurry forgot to button them.
When he pulled open the door, Alanna Colton burst into the apartment toting a stack of fluffy brown towels with her tail on fire.
She came to a stop and bemused, he followed her. She was a combination of edgy sweet and bossy princess. She turned and that direct gaze slammed into him. Hoo-boy, she was riled. “I understand you had a run-in with my brother. What happened?”
“He wanted me to hurry up and fix the horse. I left my fairy wand in my other jeans.”
Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. “You didn’t actually say that.”
“I did.”
A soft laugh escaped and she shook her head, a gleam of admiration there. “And, you’re still here?”
“Left my fairy dust at home, too.”
That made her laugh out loud as if she was picturing him as Tinker Bell. “You had a full day pissing off the Coltons, huh?”
“Setting my boundaries is all.”
“I’d say they’re set. Not many men can or are willing to cross swords with my brother. That sets you apart, Jake.” His body leaped in response to her softly spoken compliment, urging him to do something—anything—about it. Hard to keep telling himself this was supposed to be a fake wooing when the sexual tension between them was clouding up his mind in a thick fog.
He nodded, taking a breath, shifting to accommodate the sudden lack of room in his jeans, deciding they needed a benign topic. “The towels are welcome,” he said in the sudden silence. Alanna had just realized he was bare-chested. The way her startled green eyes drifted over him set his teeth on edge, the very air vibrating with tension. On undercover operations where he had to get close to a suspect, he hadn’t worked this hard to stay detached. But she intrigued him.
He stepped over and slid his hand on top of and under the stack, and their fingers accidentally brushed across one another. She pulled her hand away, and stepped back. Her sudden uncertainty was so at odds with her bold nature. They were still standing close and something tightened in his chest. She was so innocent-looking, angelic even with her honey skin and tawny hair now loose and free, cut into tapered layers. But it was