When A.J. went outside, she stood for a moment looking at the farmhouse. In the tender morning light, it was a needlepoint sampler, all that was good and cozy, and autumn made the place seem even more inviting. In a blaze of color, the rich reds and yellows of fall were beginning to manicure the tips of tree branches, emphasizing the house’s radiant white exterior.
The image was picture perfect, postcard ready, she thought. Drop it in the mail and remind someone of the fantasy home everyone wished for. Too bad Norman Rockwell’s model of farming America was making her stomach feel like she’d swallowed a box of thumbtacks.
A.J. rubbed her belly, thinking maybe her father’s thing with stress and antacids might be hereditary.
She was feeling trapped between being thrilled to see Devlin McCloud again and knowing that she had to leave. It was a one-two punch. She doubted she would run into him again and that made her curiously distraught. She was also back where she’d started the night before with no place to put the stallion.
Why couldn’t they just stay here?
The facilities were what she wanted. Perfectly kitted out, with no distractions from other horses or riders. And working with someone of Devlin’s stature would be a once-in-a-lifetime chance for any rider. The only drawback was the effect he had on her, but even that was exciting. She imagined that working with him would be stimulating on so many levels and, as long as she could stay focused, it would be a wonderful way to see if something could develop between them.
Put like that, it was hard to figure out which was more attractive. The training or the man himself.
So what could she say to change his mind?
Good morning, nice sheets, by the way, are you sure you don’t want to spend the next two months with me and my big black stallion?
She didn’t think that was going to cut it.
All was quiet as A.J. stepped inside and she wondered if she shouldn’t just leave. Probably it was the right thing to do but it wasn’t an option as far as she was concerned. She wanted to see him one more time so she padded into the kitchen, wondering where the coffeemaker was. She found it, next to a Crock-Pot full of freshly ground beans. As the aroma of coffee seeped through the room, she took a seat at the battered oak table and stared out a bank of windows at the mountain range behind the house. High in the sky, above the undulating shoulders of the hills, birds were surfing lazily on invisible currents and she coveted their nonchalance. Tossing and turning in the wind, they seemed content to be pulled in unexpected directions.
When the percolator was done, she searched for a mug, poured some steaming brew into it and returned to her waiting. Soon she heard noises overhead. When Devlin appeared a while later, he was walking more slowly than usual.
“Good morning,” A.J. said, glancing at him. He’d showered and shaved and she could smell the clean scent of his soap. Something tangy with a hint of cedar.
Yummy, she thought.
“I see you’ve made yourself at home.”
“Just trying to make myself useful.”
“Thanks for getting a head start on the coffee.”
Covertly, A.J. studied him as he crossed the room to the pot. His hair was glossy from being damp, and the flannel shirt he wore, which accentuated his broad shoulders, had been rolled up to his elbows. He was wearing a pair of well-washed jeans that were faded over the thighs and, she noted with a flush, on the backside. He looked comfortable, casual, and yet totally in control of himself and his surroundings.
He was a man she could get used to seeing in the morning, she thought.
This made her wonder how many women had come down those stairs with him after a night spent in his bed, how many had joined him at the rough oak table she was now sitting at. Whom had he loved with his body? With his heart? Was there someone for him now?
A.J. shook her head, telling herself it was none of her business. It didn’t help. With the way she reacted to him, his relationships with women were an inappropriate but undeniable priority to her.
Devlin groaned as he sat down. Catching her look of concern, he muttered, “Nothing to worry over—just takes some time for my leg to get going in the morning.”
“Does it bother you a lot?”
“It makes itself known, all right.”
“Will you be able to ride again?” she blurted out.
He froze, mug halfway to his lips. Pain tightened his features, drew the blood from his face.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to—”
“No,” he said softly, “no, it’s all right.”
He was silent for so long that she thought he’d forgotten she was even sitting across from him. And then he answered.
“It isn’t so much that I can’t ride anymore…. It’s that I can’t fall again.” He looked into his coffee mug. Took a sip. “This leg of mine is held together with metal screws and plates. One more trauma and it’s game over. As it stands now, I’m still working to get the mobility back. I guess I should feel lucky that it wasn’t worse. There are some people who don’t get to walk again after what happened to me.”
“What a horrible accident,” A.J. whispered. “It must have been awful to lose…”
“Mercy? It was worse than losing my career. Putting her down was the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make.” He stared ahead, lost to his memories. “I can’t describe what it was like after we hit the ground. She was flailing around, her foreleg shattered. Absolutely shattered. Irreparable. It was cockeyed at the knee, hoof facing the wrong way.”
A.J. reached out to him, needing to soothe his anguish somehow. Her hand settled on his forearm. His skin was warm to the touch and she could feel the fine hair that sprinkled over it.
His eyes shot down to the contact and she saw that she’d shocked him. Hazel eyes narrowed on her. There was a wealth of suspicion in their depths. She imagined that the media and everyone in the business had been after him during the year for some kind of insight into his inner torment. Not wanting to press him, she removed her hand.
“I don’t know why I’m talking to you,” he said quietly. “But I think it has something to do with your eyes.”
She felt herself becoming breathless. “My eyes?”
He nodded. “I’m usually wary of people. But it’s hard to be suspicious of the clear blue sky.”
A.J. gulped, feeling as if she were on the edge of a cliff. And that leaping off was a really great idea.
Devlin continued. “I stayed with Mercy when the vet gave her the shot. Her head was in my lap as the light went out of her eyes. I told myself that the pain was leaving her, draining away as the beat of her heart got slower and slower. That her agony would soon be over. It didn’t really help.” His eyes drifted out of the bank of windows. “I feel selfish about that. That I wanted her to stay even though she was suffering.”