She would have never guessed what a big role Gavin would play in bringing the equine-therapy center to life.

  “I was surprised to see Gavin Kingsley on the list of available bachelors.” Ellen’s tone was teasing as she slanted a sly look Lauryn’s way. “I thought he was the last man in Silent Spring you wanted anything to do with.”

  “Have I said that before?” Straightening from the fence, Lauryn picked at a string from around the button of her flannel work shirt.

  It sounded like something she’d thought, certainly, but she couldn’t recall venting about Gavin to Ellen.

  “Long ago, when you first went to work for Duke Kingsley,” Ellen reminded her more gently. “I remarked that it was a job with good contacts, considering that even then you hoped to work with horses. But you made it clear Gavin was not anyone you thought very highly of.”

  That she’d spouted off so openly about him gave her a little more understanding into why Gavin had insisted she get to know him.

  “There’s a chance I rushed to judgment about him when I was younger,” she admitted, pulling back her shoulders. If she wanted people to bid on Silent Spring’s resident bad boy, she shouldn’t speak negatively about him, of course. That didn’t mean she’d changed her opinion. “He might have more redeeming qualities than I realized now that he’s an adult.”

  Ellen nodded as she escorted Lauryn toward the truck and horse trailer backed partially on the lawn. Chip had wanted her to unload Toffee as close to the pasture as possible in case she was spooked by the new surroundings.

  “The sheriff definitely doesn’t think so.” Withdrawing a pair of work gloves from the back pocket of her jeans, Ellen smoothed out the crumpled fingers before putting them on, her brow furrowed. “I remember blowing by Gavin’s truck one day last year when I was in a rush to get to an appointment. Then, in the rearview mirror, I saw your dad tear out from a speed trap to pull Gavin over.”

  The story made Lauryn a little uneasy since she’d heard from friends that her father had it “in” for Gavin. But then, Lauryn had the advantage of knowing her dad’s side of things. All the old pranks. All the history.

  “They definitely don’t get along,” she acknowledged, hoping they would be civil at the Studs for Sale event. She felt sure her parents would attend to support her, although she hadn’t received their RSVP yet.

  “The funny part is, Gavin hadn’t been speeding. I felt so guilty, I even called the police station to let them know they must have caught the wrong vehicle on radar and it had been me driving hell for leather through there. But your dad was adamant he had a reason for pulling over Gavin.”

  Defensiveness for her father rose.

  “And I’m sure he did.” She attempted to say it with levity, but the comment fell flat as she met Ellen’s troubled blue gaze.

  In the awkward moment that followed, she gestured toward her truck and continued, “But I should get underway now. I’m so grateful to you and Chip for making this transition easy for Toffee.”

  Ellen’s face cleared as she gave a nod.

  “Our pleasure. And I’m excited to break out my dancing shoes for the evening of the bachelor auction. That band you hired is one of Chip’s favorites.”

  After a few more pleasantries exchanged, Lauryn was in her truck again and driving to her meeting with Gavin at the Broken Spur Ranch.

  Heading south through the scenic beauty that came with this stretch of 287, Lauryn heard her former foster mom’s words circling around in her head.

  Not just what she’d said. But how she’d said it. Because Ellen Crawford wasn’t a woman to mince words, or to share a story just for the sake of shooting the breeze.

  Clearly, the incident she’d witnessed with Lauryn’s father pulling over Gavin had bothered her enough to relate it. Almost as if she felt defensive of Gavin. Which stirred Lauryn’s uncertain feelings about him all the more. During the years she’d lived in foster homes, she’d grown accustomed to reading the room quickly, trying to get a take on people in a way that even now made her prone to overanalyzing.

  Maybe she was doing that now, picking at stray threads that didn’t need unraveling.

  The elevation increased before it decreased again, her truck feeling the incline more with the heavy horse trailer in tow. Still, she checked the time on her dashboard and saw she would arrive punctually enough.

  No need to text Gavin in advance.

  Even as she thought it, her truck’s Bluetooth chimed with a notification from her phone, the connection informing her she had an incoming message from Gavin Kingsley. The system was even polite enough to ask her if she wanted the message read to her so her eyes could remain on the road.

  Curiosity hummed through her, even as she felt a zing of kismet that he’d apparently been thinking of her at the same moment she’d been thinking of him. Foolish, really, given they had a meeting scheduled shortly. She should be relieved he’d remembered it this time.

  Then the disembodied voice of her messaging app sounded over the truck’s speakers, reading aloud to her.

  “Hey, this is Gavin. Just checking in to make sure we’re still on for this afternoon. I’ll be in all day, so don’t rush if your delivery runs long.”

  Lauryn’s pulse thrummed faster, remembering the way Gavin had touched her the day before when they’d shaken hands on the deal they made. There’d been a moment—an infinitesimal shift of his thumb along the back of her hand—when heat had spiked all through her. A charged instant between them she hadn’t been able to forget.

  Now she would see him again so they could work together in close proximity on her event. Her stomach flipped.

  Was that unease she was feeling? Anxiety?

  It had all been her idea to ask him to be a part of the bachelor auction, so she only had herself to blame now, if the thought of being next to him for hours sent a sensual shiver through her. She could blame Gavin for other things, but roping him into this event had been all her idea because she’d known that the man would corral feminine interest for miles around.

  Had she thought all her father’s stories about him or all Duke Kingsley’s disparaging remarks about his son would prevent her from feeling the influence of Gavin’s charisma?

  Just one touch yesterday had shattered any illusion of the kind.

  Licking her dry lips, Lauryn reminded herself she had the very best of reasons for going forward with her plan: both to have Gavin in the bachelor auction and to maintain his help in organizing the event. He was a people person. A party person. While she was definitely not. His participation was crucial on so many levels.

  No matter that they’d never been overly friendly toward one another in the past; he’d proven in their early meetings that he knew a lot about charity fundraisers and black-tie events since he’d been born into the Kingsley wealth. The fact that his father had disinherited him didn’t suddenly void out the skills Gavin had honed over a lifetime.

  He was good at this, and she needed him.

  Clearing her throat, Lauryn spoke to the voice-messaging system through her Bluetooth microphone. “Send a message to Gavin Kingsley,” she requested, waiting for the beep that indicated she could begin talking.

  “The meeting is still on for this afternoon. I’m on my way now.”

  After the notification was read back to her, she confirmed the text and asked for the note to send, ignoring the sensation in her belly that felt sort of like butterflies.

  It was only nerves, of course.

  And since the therapy center she was dedicating in memory of her foster sister was riding on the outcome of Studs for Sale, Lauryn would do everything in her power to ignore the draw of the most notorious stud around.

  Four

  This isn’t a date.

  Gavin repeated the words to himself as he adjusted the place settings he’d arranged on the patio table built into his dock. He’d gone to some trouble to ensure the place for their meeting looked appealing, and he’d even ordered lunch in case Lauryn hadn’t eaten. But as he reviewed the location of the table under a pergola, surrounded by container plants and shaded by ivy growing between the overhead wooden slats, he wondered if the sheriff’s no-nonsense daughter might think it all a bit too much.

  Especially since this meeting wasn’t a date, damn it.

  But he wanted to make her comfortable, and after he’d reviewed the meeting notes she sent him the night before, he knew they had a lot of ground to cover to work out the flow of the event. Then, afterward, he had a plan for drawing out the conversation. Maybe weave the talk around to the time she’d worked for his dad.

  Something he wouldn’t be able to do if she disappeared as soon as their business concluded.

  He didn’t have any longer to wonder about the setup, however, as a moment later, a dust cloud on the road leading to the driveway alerted him to Lauryn’s arrival. Gavin jogged away from the dock to meet her, tempering his thoughts with reminders that he was only spending time with her to find out what she knew about his disinheritance.

  And if she’d contributed to it in any way with her skewed view of him.

  Yet as he rounded the corner of the detached garage to see Lauryn step out of her pickup truck in snug-fitting black jeans and work boots, a pink-and-gray flannel shirt tucked in on one side to reveal the narrow waist beneath it, Gavin struggled to recall those good intentions. Didn’t matter that she was dressed for ranch work after the horse delivery, her face free of makeup and her chestnut waves bound into a ponytail. Or that she carried a binder that was surely full of tasks for them to accomplish. Gavin could only think she looked good enough to eat.

  Preferably in slow, savoring mouthfuls.

  “Hello, Gavin.” Greeting him with a wave, she paused near the hitch for her horse trailer to rewrap a length of excess security chain that had come unhooked. “I’m surprised Rocco didn’t come out to say hello too.”

  “If he was here, I’m positive he would have beaten me to you.” He gestured for her to walk with him toward the trout pond, and she kept pace beside him. “But the foreman lured him out to help drive the horses to the summer pasture. The broodmares are all even-tempered and easy to move, but Rocco likes to keep up his skills.”

  “This must be a busy time for the breeding program,” she observed, her step stalling as her hazel eyes fixed on their destination. “Will we be working outside?”

  “That was the plan.” The spring had been mild, and he’d assumed that—like him—she probably worked out of doors often enough to be accustomed to the temperatures. “But we can relocate easily enough—”

  “No need. This is perfect.” A smile hitched at the corner of her lips as she recommenced moving toward the dock perched at the edge of his trout pond. “I just wasn’t expecting anything so charming. What an ideal backyard.”

  “I spent a lot of time making sure this place was exactly the way I wanted it.” He felt the tide of bitterness rising at the thought of leaving Silent Spring, the home and grounds personalized in every way. But since he didn’t want to talk about that yet, he quickly switched topics. “So this morning’s adoption went well? I know sometimes it can take a horse a while to settle down after a trailer ride.”

  He waved her ahead of him as they reached the cobblestone path that wound around a firepit and then up to the bi-level dock over the pond. The patio table under the pergola had been built closer to a storage shed where he kept fishing gear and lawn equipment, while the lower deck held two Adirondack chairs positioned side by side, looking out over the pond and the river beyond.

  “Toffee couldn’t be happier,” she reported as she trailed one palm along the blooming clematis vine that wound up one of the pergola posts. Her touch released the soft fragrance of the pale pink flowers. “She managed the trip like a trooper, and she’s in good hands in her new home.”

  When they arrived at the table, where he’d arranged place settings at two of the four chairs, he withdrew one of the seats on the bare side of the table for her.

  “How’s this? I thought we could dive into the meeting agenda and then, if we’re not finished within the hour, we can at least take a working lunch.”

  For a moment, he studied her face as she took in the details—the linen napkins and simple white china on tan straw mats, the crystal water goblets but no wine glasses, the pewter jug of sunflowers in the middle of the cast-iron table. At least he’d had the forethought to leave his tablet and a notepad out, too, in an effort to show her he was serious about helping her with the event.

  He knew he walked a tightrope with her, balancing his need to draw her out with her desire to nail down the details of the event.

  When her gaze flipped back to his, her expression was guarded. Her tone even, if a little stiff.

  “That’s thoughtful of you. Thank you.” Taking a seat in the chair he’d indicated, Lauryn set the manila folder she carried in front of her as she tucked closer to the table. “If we stay focused, I’m sure we can plow through this at a good clip so I’m not taking too much of your time.”

  Dropping into the seat beside her, he switched on the tablet, more than ready to finish up the work ahead of them, though for entirely different reasons. Lauryn might be plotting a quick departure from Broken Spur Ranch.

  As for Gavin?

  He already had a plan for luring her to stay.

  * * *

  This is just business.

  Lauryn reminded herself as she reached for a raspberry on the small dessert charcuterie board one of Gavin’s household staffers had brought them after a light lunch. The food had been delivered after they’d worked for about ninety minutes. She’d debated stealing away without accepting the lunch invitation, but that seemed unnecessarily rude when Gavin had offered so much of his time and expertise to help finalize the plans for the event day.

  So she’d made quick work of a delectable chicken-salad sandwich from the tray of choices Gavin’s housekeeper had offered half an hour ago, thinking she’d leave afterward. But by the time the small dessert board was delivered a few moments ago—laden with bite-size fruits, chocolates, macaroons and a salted-caramel dipping sauce—Lauryn worried she’d ventured into too-friendly terrain with a man she needed to be on her guard around.

  Popping the raspberry in her mouth, she savored the burst of sweetness while she tried to gauge his next move. “This is so decadent. If this is how you conduct business meetings, I can only imagine how on point your dating game must be.”

  Gavin arched an eyebrow at her as he dragged a square of dark chocolate through the caramel sauce. “Spoken like a woman who is angling for hints about our upcoming date.”

  “Hardly.” She bristled, face warm, as she snagged a macaroon. “Just observing that it’s no surprise women line up to date you when you are such an attentive...er, host.”

  “Not you, though, Lauryn. You’ve been careful to avoid me for as long as I’ve known you.” Leaning back in his chair, Gavin crossed his long legs at the ankles as he observed her. “I don’t think you’re won over by things like that.”

  “Maybe I go for substance over style,” she teased, her skin prickling with awareness wherever his brown eyes lingered.

  And while she would like to blame a cool spring breeze for the shiver that danced down her spine, she knew it had more to do with Gavin’s heated regard. Somehow, digging into the macaroon didn’t ease the renewed hunger she was feeling either.

  “I think there’s more to it than that,” he argued, selecting a strawberry from the small pile on the board between them. “You’ve been opposed to me from your first day in Silent Spring.”

  A low-flying—noisy—crop duster overhead gave her an extra moment to consider his words.

  “Now that’s just not true,” she said after a moment. She hadn’t known anything about Gavin for months after the Hamiltons had taken her in.

  “Isn’t it?” An amused expression carved a dimple in his cheek while a mischievous glint shone in his eyes. “How else would you explain the way you sprinted out of that 4-H meeting the first time you came to town?”

  A humming sound started in the back of her brain at the mention of 4-H. She’d had a bad experience there the one and only time she’d gone.

  Not that it was any fault of the organization.

  She’d been visiting the Hamiltons before her adoption had been finalized, and Mrs. Hamilton had been a local group leader, so Lauryn had gone with her for the day.

  “Lauryn?” Gavin straightened in his seat, his expression clouding. “What’s wrong?”

  He reached out to her, laying a hand on her arm.

  The humming in her ears grew louder. She stared down at the place where Gavin’s fingers curved around her wrist. It was the only place on her body that didn’t suddenly feel chilled.

  “Nothing.” Shaking her head, she didn’t want to remember that time in her life. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re white as a sheet. Should I call someone? A physician or—”

  “No.” She laid her free hand over his where he touched her. Gripped his fingers hard in hers. “It’s really nothing.”

  And yet she knew the more she refused to acknowledge what was happening to her, the worse it would be. She hadn’t experienced a full-on panic attack in years, but she recalled how terrifying they were. How it felt like having a heart attack.

  Even now, the noise in her ears had cranked up to full volume, drowning out whatever Gavin was saying to her. She watched his lips move. Understood he was worried for her.

  Something about the concern in his eyes touched her. Anchored her, even.

  So, keeping her gaze locked on his, she tried to remember the steps her old therapist had taught her. Don’t fight the attack. Ride it out. Try to remain in the situation.