The Horse Trainer's Secret
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Allison Leigh
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15,8K
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17
Prologue
“It’s agreed, then. We’ll see you back here the middle of May.”
Megan Forrester nodded at Jed Dalloway as everyone around the table clinked their frosty beer mugs together in a toast. “Middle of May,” she agreed. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Jed’s wife, April, smiled broadly. “So are we! It’s hard to believe that we’ve actually broken ground on our guest ranch.”
“Believe it.” Chance Michaels slid off his barstool as he fit the cap in place on the long tube containing his rolled-up architectural drawings. “Only now, this damn weather’s got the ground frozen again.”
The March weather was pretty miserable right now in Wyoming. And high up on Rambling Mountain, which overlooked the town of Weaver, it was even snowier. Once the guest ranch was built and open for business, that snow would be a major attraction for guests both far and near. But right now, it stood in the way of construction.
It also prevented Megan from making the several-hour drive back home to Angel River tonight.
“There’s Nick.” April abruptly set down her mug and waved her hand in the air. She glanced at Megan. “My cousin.”
Megan didn’t look up; she was busy refilling her mug. She figured she might as well take advantage of the fact that she wouldn’t be driving home tonight.
It was a Friday night. Despite the inclement weather, Colbys Bar & Grill was crowded. Two guitarists and a drummer were crammed in one corner playing music that probably wouldn’t land them a recording deal anytime soon, but they were good enough to have people dancing on one side of the bar, where the tables had been shoved aside. On the opposite side, every pool table was in use and the clacking of billiard balls was audible between one song and the next.
It was noisy. It was energetic. It was everything that, on occasion, Megan Forrester enjoyed. And on this occasion, she had something to celebrate. It wasn’t every day when a woman like her was asked to design an equestrian center from the ground up.
“I’m gonna get on home before the wife hunts me down,” Chance said, and Megan realized he’d already pulled on his coat. He tapped the cardboard tube lightly against the edge of the table. “Jed, I’ll send you the plans for your cabin remodel this week, too,” he promised before turning and making his way toward the door.
“Cabin remodel?”
April nodded and whipped out her cell phone, showing Megan a photo. “The view’s spectacular, but you can see it needs a little updating,” she joked. The picture showed an ancient, ramshackle cabin.
Megan peered at it a little more closely. “That’s where the two of you live?” There were only a few tiny windows, and it looked in actual danger of sliding off the cliff where it was perched.
“It does have indoor plumbing,” Jed interjected as a stranger in a cowboy hat grabbed the barstool Chance had just vacated.
“Mind if I take this?” The guy was already starting to slide it away, but a second stranger clamped his hand over the back of the chair.
“I do. Sorry, pal.” His smile was white. He was tall and dark-haired. His eyes were gray. And they danced over April and Jed before landing on Megan’s face.
Every female cell she possessed stood up and took notice as the man sat down in Chance’s place.
The architect had been pleasant enough. Sixty-five, if he was a day, with thinning gray hair and a dulling gold wedding band on his finger. He’d seemed to know his stuff and Megan figured she could tolerate working with the guy for a couple months when she returned to Weaver in May. She’d work with almost anyone if it meant having the opportunity to design some stables and buy a lot of horses.
But that was business.
And this guy, with his broad shoulders and sexy grin, looked like anything but business. In fact, he looked like a long slow roll in the hay.
And it had been a very long time since Megan had rolled in any hay.
“Megan, this is my cousin—”
“I’m Nick,” the man said before April could finish speaking. He shook Megan’s hand, and the look in his eyes told her that he was taking notice of her in return. “And you are...?”
“Megan.” From the corner of her eye, she saw April toss up her hands and shrug. But Megan was far more focused on the feel of Nick’s thumb as he slowly rubbed the back of her hand.
“Want to dance, Megan?”
She was stuck in town for the night at the very least. She was celebrating. And now, a mouthwatering guy had practically dropped right in her lap.
She slipped off her barstool to stand in the very narrow bit of space between them. His jean-clad thigh felt solid and warm against her. “Dancing will do...” She slowly turned her hand in his and returned the subtle caress. His gray gaze sharpened, and she smiled slightly. “For a start.”
