The Black Sheep and the Hidden Beauty. Donna Kauffman

The Black Sheep and the Hidden Beauty - Donna  Kauffman


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and, cheeks heating, she jerked her gaze to his. But not before wondering what those khakis might do for his rear view. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were here.” Great—she was already stuttering and they hadn’t even started yet. Having a few days to regroup and prepare for the impact he so effortlessly had on her hadn’t helped in the least.

      “I was out at Kate’s office, so I came in from the other side.” He walked around, glanced out into the ring, then back in the stables.

      Eyes on the goal, she schooled herself, attention on the class. Not the way those button-flap pockets show off his incredibly fine ass.

      He turned abruptly back to her. “I know I don’t know much about horses, but I’m assuming it usually helps to actually have one in order to learn to ride one.”

      Caught staring twice in as many minutes, she felt the heat in her cheeks climb and wondered what it would take to get a grip where this man was concerned. Then he stepped closer and she realized his easy banter wasn’t as easy for him as he was making it sound. Not if the taut lines bracketing both his mouth and his eyes were any indication. That, and the fact that it looked as if the hands he’d shoved into his pockets were balled into fists.

      Her smile came more naturally then. Just wait till you find out what class number one consists of. Reclaiming a sorely needed piece of her fickle control, she walked past him without pausing, motioning for him to follow her farther into the building. “This way. I’ll introduce you to your new partner.”

      They walked past Bonder, who was still facing the rear corner of his stall, and on past a few of the other horses used for classes, before finally coming to a stop at the next-to-last stall. Still smiling, she turned and gestured toward the chest-high door with a flourish. “Mr. Santiago, meet Petunia. She’s going to be your riding buddy for the duration. I just know you two are going to hit it off.”

      Petunia was the oldest horse at Dalton Downs, but far from retirement. Well, kind of far. A year or two, anyway. She was the gentlest mount they had and would pretty much put up with anything. They used her with the frailer kids, as well as the ones with more unpredictable behaviors.

      It wasn’t that she thought Rafe needed such an easy mount; she was just, well, being a bit perverse. But he didn’t have to know that. For all he knew, this was standard.

      “Petunia? What kind of name is that for a horse?”

      “I don’t know—you’d have to take that up with Kate. From what I understand, Petunia belonged to her former college roommate, who was the one who got Kate interested in working with challenged kids. When Marti died, Kate inherited her.” It was a story everyone who’d spent any time with Petunia or Kate knew about. Except, apparently, Rafe. “She’s one of the favorites here.”

      He didn’t do much more than glance at the horse. “Why is she still in the stall? Shouldn’t she be saddled and ready? I know your time is valuable—”

      “Oh, you won’t be riding her today. First class is always meeting your horse, along with learning grooming, saddling, and the basic maintenance you’ll be responsible for as part of your classes.”

      “Is that really necessary? Surely the kids who come to class don’t—”

      “Those who can, cherish that part of their time. And believe me when I say, those who can’t wish they could.”

      He did have the grace to look properly abashed. “Point taken, and my apologies. It’s just, as a fully functioning adult, I thought perhaps we could just move on to the actual riding part of the program. I don’t plan on buying my own horse, so—”

      “Did you just get in a car and drive it the first time you saw one?”

      Rafe stared at her for a long second, but said nothing. Finally, he turned his attention to Petunia. Then he frowned and stepped closer. “Is she…sleeping?”

      Elena glanced at Petunia, who was, indeed, dozing. Her head was drooping low, and one front fetlock was relaxed and resting against the other. “She’s had a busy day, but trust me, she’s always up for a new adventure.”

      Rafe’s expression was dubious at best, but he didn’t comment.

      “Today I’m going to teach you how to halter your horse, lead her from her stall, properly cross tie her, and put on the saddle. If all that goes well, I’ll teach you how to mount up and we’ll adjust the stirrups and girth strap so you’ll know how to set them properly for your next class.” Most of which wasn’t necessary, as the barn help would be more than happy to saddle up any mount she requested, especially for one of the Trinity three. Even if he hadn’t been one of the Dalton Downs honchos, she was certain he’d have no problem getting any woman on the property to do pretty much whatever he wanted. But since the man said he wanted to learn to ride, the least he should do is learn to appreciate what he was riding.

      “So, you’re saying I have to saddle her every—” He stopped when Elena folded her arms. “Okay, okay.” He looked back at Petunia, clearly not thrilled with this whole endeavor, and Elena wondered again why he was really down here.

      “So,” he said, looking from her to the horse. “Where do we begin?”

      “First, you talk to her.”

      “Talk to her,” Rafe repeated.

      “Yep.” He hadn’t minded her being spunky yesterday. She hoped that held true today. “Crazy as it sounds, most people who want to learn to ride these amazing animals, want to do so because they admire them, like them, or just plain want to be around them. This is usually a fun part of the lesson program.”

      “Fun.”

      She laughed and Petunia twitched her ears, lifted her head, and blinked at them. “Yes,” Elena said. “Fun. Is it that hard to believe horseback riding is fun? Or is fun a foreign concept to you altogether?”

      “No, of course not.”

      Which, from the look on his face, was blatantly untrue.

      “Okay. When was the last time you had fun?” she asked.

      “I have fun every day.”

      “From what I can tell, you work every day.”

      “Exactly. I love my work. It gives me great satisfaction. I enjoy it. Hence, fun.”

      “That’s not the same thing.”

      He shrugged. “You define it your way, I define it mine.”

      “So why are you down here? When you could be having fun working?” She reached out and stroked Petunia’s blaze and nose. The mare bucked her head up a little, nickering in pleasure as she pushed against Elena’s hand. Elena noted that Rafe had flinched when Petunia swung her head up, but held his ground. If anything, he’d looked as if he was going to step between her and the horse. Interesting reaction. And it warmed her a little. Unless he was just hard-wired instinctively to protect those he viewed as weaker than himself.

      They’d see about that.

      “Can I ask you something?” she asked.

      He shifted his gaze to her. “Why ask permission now?”

      She smiled at that. At least he was learning that demure and retiring wasn’t exactly her style. Best he understand that early on. “Are you sure you’re not doing this on some kind of dare from your partners?” It was the only explanation she’d come up with in the past few days. He didn’t seem any more enthusiastic today than he had when he’d asked—demanded, really—that she give him lessons. “No offense intended,” she added quickly. “I know how guys can be. I’ve worked around them my whole life.”

      “And how is that?”

      “I worked with my father growing up—he trained show horses, then branched out into a field that also happened to be dominated by men. Not by choice, that part, it just happens to be the way the racing world is. I guess not many women take


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