To Con A Cowboy (Hunks and Horses Book 3) Page 2

  The gates swung open, but as she drove forward a fresh worry took hold.

  The barn.

  Horses.

  A trail ride?

  Knowing Brett's love of horses she'd taken several riding lessons at a local stable. Be prepared had been her father's motto, one she found ironic. When the bottom fell out of the housing market no-one could have been less prepared than him, but she still believed in the sound advice. To her dismay her plan had not gone as she'd hoped. In three lessons all she'd learned was how to turn right, left, and stop.

  Driving forward she found the artful landscaping impressive. The house in the distance, with green shutters and pillars adornng the verandah, could have stood proudly on a Georgian Plantation. As the lane dipped down, a classic red and white barn came into view, beside it a riding ring with natural wood fencing, and what appeared to be a covered arena. The scene could have been a postcard, but as she drew near her heart skipped. Two horses were tacked up, their reins looped loosely around an old-fashioned hitching post and nearby sat an old truck.

  Her foot hit the brake.

  A whisper from a long ago sin became a shout.

  "Why are you doing this?"

  She'd known the answer, but she hadn't been able to bring herself to tell him.

  What's done is done and can't be undone.

  The adage that once played on an endless loop echoed through her head.

  Anger seized her.

  "No! The past will not get in way of this," she hissed, furious with herself for allowing the memory to swallow her up. "It's just a fucking truck!"

  Taking a breath, determined to face the ghost, she continued forward, parked next to it, climbed out, and walked nervously across to the horses.

  "Hey, Amber."

  Brett's voice had come from behind. Turning around, she watched the handsome star saunter towards her. He was one sexy cowboy.

  "Hi, Brett."

  "Did you have any trouble findin' the place? If you don't watch the mileage it's easy to think you've gone too far."

  "For a minute I thought that's exactly what I'd done," she admitted. "This place is in the middle of nowhere, though I did notice a few homes on the opposite hillside."

  "Drivin' up the other side of the canyon is easier so the development is movin' faster, but the zonin' here is tight. I don't think we'll have an overpopulation problem any time soon. Where are my manners? Can I get you a coke or a cup of coffee?"

  "I'm a coffee nut if you have any."

  "Sure thing. How do you like it?"

  "Cream and two sugars."

  "I'll fetch it while you meet Millie. She's the buckskin. Soldier's the dark bay. He's my bad boy."

  He disappeared into the barn, and trying to control her nerves she walked up to the horses. They simultaneously turned their heads.

  "Ganging up on me already? You need to be nice to me, Millie," she said softly, stroking the neck of the stout mare. "I can point you in the right direction, but that's about it. If we trot, go slow. I bounce all over the place."

  "Here you go. One coffee with cream and two lumps of sugar," Brett announced, striding over to her carrying an aluminum, lidded mug. "I take these on the trail with me," he continued, handing it to her. "They're unbreakable, and you can't spill what you're drinkin'."

  "Do you mind if I have this before I ride?"

  "I didn't put a cup holder on Millie, so you'd better."

  "A cup holder?" she asked, but as she accepted the coffee, a wry grin crossed his face. Looking back at the horse she realized Millie's saddle had no bags attached. "Oh, I see what you mean."

  "Have you done much trail ridin'?"

  Taking a long, slow sip of the coffee to gather her thoughts, she decided on a half-truth. She'd followed her instructor around the back of the stables, down a narrow path and through some trees.

  "A little bit, but I couldn't call myself a trail rider," silently adding, I couldn't call myself an anything rider.

  "What's your favorite discipline?"

  Startled by the unexpected and alarming question, she almost choked. Her stomach flipping, she stared at the ground wondering how the sexy country music star could possibly know she loved being dominated.

  Her mind raced.

  Was he asking her if she liked floggers and paddles?

  Did he want to hear about edging, or perhaps—"

  "Amber? Are you okay?"

  Anger seized her.

  Her fingers clutched the coffee mug.

  His question was completely inappropriate.

  She wanted to yell at him.

  She wanted to challenge him.

  She wanted to demand he tell her how he'd uncovered such personal things about her

  She didn't doubt the efficient Mr. Hamilton would have ordered a background check, but six months had passed since she and her last boyfriend had split up, and regardless, how could an investigation related to employment possibly reveal her love of kink?

  "Amber?" he repeated, interrupting her whirling thoughts.

  Not caring that her face burned crimson, she lifted her eyes and stared up at him.

  She wanted the job.

  She needed the job.

  If she had to confess she'd like nothing better than to find herself stretched over his lap with her backside naked, so be it.

  "I'm fine. Sorry. I needed a minute to decide."

  "And have you?"

  "I suppose, but if you love chocolate and you're presented with a selection, how do you choose? You might crave caramel one day, and peppermint the next."

  "I guess that's true about a lotta things."

  "What's your favorite?" she asked, suddenly deciding to throw it back at him, too rattled by the bizarre conversation to come up with an answer.

  "Like you said, it's hard to choose. Barrel racin' is excitin', but I love watchin' those jumpers."

  It took a moment for the comment to register.

  She'd completely misunderstood!

  He'd been talking about which riding discipline she liked the best.

  Though she managed to stifle a relieved laugh, the grin could not be suppressed.

  "I take it from that smile you like jumpers too."

  "Very much. I don't know how those riders stay on."

  "Ever been to a Grand Prix?"

  "No. I've only seen them on television. It must be amazing in person."

  "Jaw-droppin'. The riders sit on those thin pieces of leather they call saddles and fly through the air. I can jump over a fallen tree trunk, but what those people do is mind-bogglin'. How are you doin' with that coffee?"

  "Uh, almost finished," she replied, trying frantically to think of a way to avoid getting on the horse. "Where are we going?"

  "You see that ridge up there?" he asked, raising his hand and pointing at a steep slope in the distance. "You can't see it from here, but there's a firebreak that's a blast to gallop, and the view from the top is breathtakin'."

  "I'm sure it is," she managed, the cold hand of fear squeezing her heart. "Isn't it a little far?"

  "It's about an hour, but we don't have to come back that way. We can ride along the top of the mountain. There's a dirt track that drops down behind the house. It's kinda steep, but these horses are like mountain goats."

  "Two hours then?"

  "More like two-and-a-half," he replied casually. "That's takin' it easy. We could race if you want."

  Her heart thumping and searching for a way to refuse, she turned her anxious gaze from the distant hills to make an excuse, only to discover a wicked grin curled the edges of his lips.

  "Why are you teasing me?"

  "I am?"

  "You are! You know you are!"

  "You're not into gallopin' up a mountain and slidin' down the other side?"

  "Now you're making fun of me!" she retorted, instantly regretting her defensive response.

  "Whoa, easy there. You look like you wanna spit fire. Why are you so mad? I was just kiddin' around."

>   "I asked first. Why did you tease me?"

  "I guess 'cos you look so—"

  "So what?"

  "Um, new."

  "New? What do you mean, new?" she asked vehemently, losing the battle with her righteous indignation.

  "It doesn't matter," he replied, then nodded towards the horses. "You wanna just sit in the saddle for fifteen minutes and take a walk around the property, or I can give you the tour in my truck. Your choice."

  "If you're referring to my clothes, yes, they are new," she exclaimed, ignoring his question, "and yes, I bought them just for today. Did I want to look my best? Yes. Did I want to impress you? Yes. Am I sorry I went to so much trouble?" she continued, her voice rising, "at the moment, yes, I think I am. There. Are you satisfied?"

  He didn't respond, but tilting his head to the side and crossing his arms, he fixed her with a warm, steady gaze.

  "I think you look great," he said, dropping his voice, "and Amber, I mean that."

  "You're just—"

  "Hold your fire," he said, leaning slightly forward. "You had your say, now I'm gonna have mine."

  "Sorry," she muttered, feeling oddly chastised.

  "You impressed me at the interview, and you're impressin' me now. Am I satisfied? I'm more than satisfied. I'm flattered you made such an effort, and if you want the job it's yours."

  "Is this another joke?" she asked warily. "If it is, I'm not laughing."

  "Hell no, I'm not jokin'. I wanna hire you, assumin' you still wanna work for me."

  Taking a deep breath and running her fingers through her hair, she wondered if she'd just passed some kind of test.

  "Give me that mug," he said, interrupting her thoughts. "You're clutchin' the darn thing so hard your knuckles are white." Taking it from her hand he set it on a nearby chair. "Whatta you say, Amber? Have I found my ghostwriter?"

  She still needed the job.

  She wanted to write the book.

  "I'd be very happy to take the job, thank you."

  "Great! Do you wanna climb up on Millie and see the property from horseback, or sit in my truck?"

  Glancing across at the shining, restored aqua pickup, she knew the memories might be too much.

  "I think a ride would be fun," she declared, turning her gaze back to him. "I'd love to sit on Mille."

  CHAPTER TWO

  With no mounting block Amber was forced to accept the offer of a leg up, and though delighted the sexy superstar would be so close to her, the maneuver was one she'd never attempted. Nervously walking across to the mare, she gripped the saddle horn with one hand, the back of the saddle with the other, and lifted her foot out behind her.

  "Aren't you forgettin' something?"

  Amber paused, and though she searched frantically for what it could be, nothing came to mind. For a moment she considered coming clean. Maybe he'd understand if she told him she'd only been on a horse a few times and couldn't ride worth a bean. Or she could say she hadn't ridden in a long time and—

  "You're not gonna get very far with a horse still tied to the post," he declared, snapping her from her thoughts.

  "You're standing right there," she quipped, the answer coming to her in an instant. "I thought you'd do that for me once I was on."

  The excuse sounded plausible, and with her pride intact she was glad she hadn't blurted out the truth, but as he walked up behind her she heard a soft chuckle.

  "You ready?" he asked, taking hold of her ankle. "On three."

  Abruptly, terrifyingly, but wonderfully close, the aroma of his musky cologne tickled her nostrils. If she leaned back an inch her shoulders would touch his chest.

  "One—two—three."

  As he effortlessly hoisted her up she tried to swing her leg over the saddle, but her new jeans offered no give. Only by awkwardly falling forward was she finally able to swing her leg across the mare.

  "Thanks," she muttered, sitting up and wishing her face wasn't flaming crimson. "Sorry about that. It's these jeans. They're tight."

  "Yeah? I hadn't noticed," he retorted with a wink. "Oops, I guess I shouldn't have said that. Harassment in the work place."

  "I haven't signed anything yet. You're off the hook until I do."

  The provocative comment had slipped out, but flirtation came to her as naturally as breathing.

  "Good to know. I might keep that offer on ice a while," he said, tilting his head to the side and shooting her a grin.

  "Better not wait too long," she replied, deciding the banter might help her cause. "I might get a better offer."

  "I guess that's a chance I'll have to take," he replied, casually removing the lead rope looped loosely around the post. "I don't know why I bother tyin' these horses. They won't go anywhere."

  "They do seem pretty mellow," she agreed, grateful for the change in conversation, "and it's not like they could leave the property, not with that fence you have."

  "True enough," he said, mounting up. "Ready?"

  "Sure."

  "See that dirt path up ahead?"

  "Uh-huh."

  "It leads around the property, up to the house and back. Millie will stay attached to Soldier like a Siamese Twin. You can just relax and enjoy the ride."

  Her heart skipped. He'd made the comment as though he knew she was a rank beginner. She quickly realized responding was foolish. How could she defend her riding skills when she had none? Taking a breath, she reminded herself why she was there. She needed to gather enough information about Brett Preston to write her book.

  "Okay, Soldier, time for the tour."

  "I feel as if I'm on top of the world," she said, staring at the hills surrounding them as the mare moved off alongside the big gelding. "May I ask how big the property is?"

  "The compound sits on ten acres, but I own close to one-hundred."

  "Wow. That's a lot of land."

  "Most of the terrain is hilly and covered in natural brush, but I've created a few trails."

  "Why do you have such a high fence and so much security?"

  "The wall is only spiked and with cameras in the front. There's no way to reach the back except through some pretty dense terrain, but to answer your question, if someone really wants to find out where I live, they can. Privacy doesn't exist much anymore, and there are some crazy-ass people in the world. Around back I need the wall to keep out the wildlife. We have bears, mountain lions, deer—"

  "You don't like deer?"

  "Are you kiddin'? I love deer, and I love bears and lions too, but if deer came in here they'd destroy all this expensive landscapin', and I have dogs and cats. I don't need them bein' dinner for another critter. Then there's the fire danger. The wall is fire-retardant, and I keep two-hundred feet of clearance.

  "Fires. So scary," she said solemnly. "I remember my mom wanted to live in a canyon like this, but dad wouldn't hear of it. Turned out he was right. Remember the Timberlake fire?"

  "Sure. That was a bad one."

  "It destroyed the house she wanted to buy."

  "Yep, livin' out here has dangers, but pretty much everywhere has issues. I love the peace and quiet."

  "Where are your dogs?"

  "When Jasmine is here they stick to the house. She spoils them."

  "Jasmine?"

  "My housekeeper. She comes twice a week and weekends if I need her."

  "Oh, my gosh. A lake!" she suddenly exclaimed.

  They'd ridden up a gentle slope, and stopping at the top, she found herself staring down at a large sparking pond. "

  "I call it a waterin' hole."

  "And weeping willows with picnic tables. This is gorgeous."

  "Early in my career when I toured England I spent a lotta happy times in country pubs. Ever been to a country pub?"

  "I have, and I know exactly what you mean. Tables near a river bed, willows like the ones you have here. I agree. There's nothing like an English country pub."

  "This isn't quite the same, but I did my best. We spend a lotta time down here."

 
"We?"

  "The band, friends, family. This has become everyone's favorite place to hang out, but just ahead there's a spot even more special."

  "How long have you lived here?" she asked, Millie dutifully staying at Soldier's side as Brett turned his horse and continued on.

  "Going into my seventh year. I miss it when I'm on the road."

  "I'm sure you do. I've been here five minutes and I never want to leave."

  "Yeah. There's a feelin' up here. An energy that gets under your skin."

  They were riding through an artful grouping of huge boulders and scattered trees, but as they neared the clearing he asked Soldier to stop.

  "In a minute you're gonna see an area to your left that might take you by surprise. It's a special place. I call it my sacred garden."

  "Thanks for letting me know."

  "You're welcome."

  Passing the last of the boulders, even though Brett had given her a heads-up, Amber caught her breath. Landscaped with an array of brush, cacti, and smaller rocks, the expansive yard had been shaped into a half-moon, and in the center, tall and proud, stood a totem pole.

  "Is that real?"

  "I'm not sure what you mean by real, but it was brought here by helicopter and placed in the ground with a ceremony. That's a day I'll never forget."

  "Does it serve a purpose, or is it just something beautiful to look at? "

  "If I'm stressed I sit here for a while and the stress goes away. If I'm havin' trouble with a song, when I leave here and pick up my guitar the energy starts flowin' again."

  "I think I understand what you're talking about. I feel calm just sitting here. Is there a reason you chose this particular spot?"

  "Oh, yeah," he said solemnly. "I'd planned on buildin' the house here, but when we started gradin' we found artifacts. Arrow heads, pots, even blanket remnants. It didn't feel right to build on it."

  "I can see why. It would have been sacrilegious."

  "That's what I was feelin'. I wasn't sure what to do, then one day I came out here, stood at the edge—beyond where the wall is now—and it came to me. I'd create a memorial garden to the people who once lived here."

  A sudden chill pricked her skin.

  "That's…uh…wow…" she stammered, not sure what she wanted to say. "Where did it come from? The totem pole, I mean."