As if he knows she’s just a child, like him. Two of a kind.

  Slipping the bridle and reins over her narrow shoulder, she led Ghost to the run-in shed to remove tack and curry his thick winter coat. Saul had built the small barn by himself, but it was seldom used. All the horses were out twenty-four-seven, making them tough, canny and impervious to the weather. Ghost was still full of himself, blowing and snorting, doing circles around Rosa who paid no mind to the colt’s jigging. When she released Ghost into the paddock, he exploded in a blaze of speed that took Manny’s breath away.

  “Tío, I almost forgot. Mama wants to talk to you. She sent me out to fetch you.” She scrunched her eyes. “I forgot … again.”

  “That’s okay, kiddo. Let’s get to the house. I’m freezing my fucking ass off out here.”

  Rosa lowered her head and grinned. He really needed to watch his mouth. The child took his hand, dragging him toward the cabin and his sister’s fresh baked cookies.

  He could see Maria through the kitchen window, no doubt standing hands-on-hips. Her glowering was all bluff, most of the time. When they entered the kitchen he spied a small smile playing about her pretty mouth. She ducked her head to keep them from seeing the mirth crinkling the corners of her dark eyes.

  “Go wash up, young lady. I want a word with your uncle.”

  Okay, Momma.” Rosa fled down the hall, anxious to get presentable enough to merit a still warm chocolate chip cookie.

  Maria motioned for him to sit. He knew what was coming.

  Maria pulled the oven door opened, extracted a pan of cookies and set them on a rack to cool. She settled on the stool opposite and launched into her weekly lecture.

  “You are a handsome man, Manuel.” She always called him ‘Manuel’ when it was a serious topic. It simply confirmed his suspicions. “I watch you and Rosa together, like two peas in a pod. You need a good woman and children of your own. You shouldn’t have to live through my kids. I see how you look at her. I know those wheels are turning, what they mean.”

  He grinned at his sister and asked, “And exactly what do those wheels tell you?”

  “She’s going to be just like you. Tough as nails.”

  He interjected, singsong fashion, “Wild as the prairie.”

  She leaned over the counter, mouthing compact, solid, it’s like looking at you at that age.

  Laughing, he grabbed her face in his hands and planted a kiss on her nose. “Are you done?”

  Grumbling that she was far from done, she reached for a handful of cookies and slid them onto the counter. Manny considered his options—disappoint his beloved sister by refusing to stuff his face for fear he might gain weight, or give in and make her happy. I wish all my choices were that easy. He popped a cookie in his mouth and sighed with pleasure.

  With a full mouth he mumbled, “Rosa said you had something you needed to talk to me about. Was that it?”

  “Oh my goodness, no! I almost forgot. I was thinking about the tourist season. Saul had a group of ladies book the place in late May.” She went to the wall calendar and found the month. “Last week in May, yes.” She poked a finger at the lower right hand corner. “Anyway, they want a pack trip into the wilderness, mostly to just ride, maybe do some photography. No hunting.”

  “Isn’t that when Saul has to take the three year olds to Scottsdale?”

  “Well, that’s the problem. It’s the same weekend so he can’t take them out and we don’t have anyone else available right now because he needs all the help to go with him.”

  “I could do it if you want. If it was a hunting trip, I’m not near as good as Saul, but I know the trails well enough. He and I have camped up by Chimney Rock quite a few times.”

  Maria moved around the counter so he stood to give her a hug. She topped him by an inch and more than a few pounds, her girth pleasantly round.

  “Thank you. I was almost afraid to ask. You do so much around here, and Saul and I hate to burden you more.”

  “I don’t want to hear it. So, tell me what all you have in mind for this group.”

  Pulling her reservation book off the shelf by the sink, she shuffled through a sheaf of papers and spread them on the counter.

  She read from her notes, “There’s five of them, various ages, all experienced horsewomen according to the forms they filled out.” Maria consulted another page. “Got one who evented, two who do competitive trail—and don’t ask me what that is—the other two are ring monkeys.”

  “Where’re they from?”

  “Jersey, someplace, can’t tell from this. I’ve never been there.”

  Jersey. Great. Flatlanders without a clue, used to long walks on the beach and not much else. He reminded his sister that he’d raced at Philadelphia Park and at Monmouth over in Jersey, and the only thing he’d seen was suburban sprawl, some scrub pines, interstates that masqueraded as parking lots and toll booths every twenty feet on the Garden State Parkway.

  Maria asked, “Why do they call it the Garden State?”

  Shrugging, Manny mumbled, “Dunno. I never got the moniker—the closest Jersey came to a ‘garden’ was one furrow short of a toxic waste dump.”

  Maria giggled, then scratched her head, thinking hard. “We can use that old cabin out by Chimney Rock since you already know it, and then we provision from there. Saul can give you two mules to pack in supplies. We have a large four-person tent and a couple smaller ones. I think they’ll bring their own sleeping bags. I know three of them will bring their saddles. We’ll have to make sure we get horses that the saddles will fit. I don’t want another round of fistulous withers like last year.”

  Manny fumbled under the open counter to the left of the kitchen, pulling out a handful of topo maps. He spread the Chimney Rock quadrant on the counter, smoothing the edges flat.

  He studied the map for a few minutes. “We should trailer to the trail head and save a day of riding boring pasture. I don’t fancy getting off and on Annie four hundred times to open and close those damn gates. If we go here,” he pointed, tracing his figure along a dashed line, “we’ll hit the first climb to the eight-thousand-foot level.” His finger circled a set of tightly packed lines. “There’s a huge meadow up at nine-thousand-feet. We can camp there, use it as a base and explore the ridge that runs down toward the Rez. Got one hell of a climb.”

  He grinned, thinking about those tender-footed ladies. They’d pee their elegant little lace panties when they saw what he had in mind.

  Manny hummed to himself. “Hope they wear Velcro on their asses. They’re going to need it.”

  Maria turned away, almost doubled over laughing. “You are going to give those women a ride to remember. I can hardly wait until they get here. Five of ’em, Manny. Surely one might catch your eye.”

  He muttered, “Don’t get your hopes up,” as his sister headed toward the family quarters. She stopped for a moment and looked him over critically. Before he could gripe now what she said, “You got a ripped pocket, Manny. Throw those jeans in the laundry pile. I’ll fix ’em up for you.”

  Manny grabbed another cookie and headed out the door, pausing to holler down the long hallway, “Never mind, Sis. Got three more colts to work today. See you later.”

  Chapter Seven: Heartbreak Hotel

  Susan felt awash in tension. The tweener riding students weren’t talking to her—including her own three who made surly look downright pleasant. The barn staff grimaced and stomped around in a snit, and what they had to gain by having their collective noses out of joint escaped her. Then there was Maggy bellyaching that she might as well find another place to live 'cause ... well, because you and Ian fuck like bunnies every chance you get.

  Of course, Ian garnered nothing but admiring glances from the distaff side of the barn. Apparently he could do no wrong—no surprise for a man who filled out tight spandex riding pants with the best ass in Clinton Township, or even the whole of South Jersey. Top that off with tall boots on loooong legs, slim hips, broad shoulders and a devilish dimpled chin…

  It was ‘Ian this’ and ‘Ian that’ and if she was mentioned at all, it was ‘Susan, that piece of chopped liver who doesn’t deserve to polish his boots’. Well, it was hard to get in a dither over that. Besides, it wasn’t his boots she was polishing every night and most mornings.

  Maggy shared with her that the leers she was getting from all of the guys was from jealousy that she was off the market. Whether or not it was true, she decided she liked that explanation. What shocked her was finding out that she’d dashed her friend Aaron’s hopes. The sometime eventer had a serious crush on her, and she’d completely missed those signs, as had Lotte.

  Why does it have to be so complicated? Why do I have to feel guilty for finally having someone who cares about me, for real this time?

  At least her dressage improved. Hot sex did absolute wonders for her seat, increasing her control and stamina by an order of magnitude. She was going to suggest to Jacob, in jest, that they should add that to the program, along with riding without stirrups. The man was a bit on the prim and proper side, unlike his lusty Lotte who would embrace the concept and run with it—especially if meant advancing her match-making skills.

  At least her mom had stopped calling every other day. Hey Mom, I’m finally getting some. He’s drop-dead-gorgeous jailbait. Gotta go, he’s upstairs naked on my bed. See you!

  She had to be delusional to think maybe they’d have any kind of future. With no full time work, both of them supporting themselves with training gigs here and there, there was simply no way they could plan for a future. But that didn’t keep them from trying, especially Ian. Goal-oriented to a fault, he had long term plans, with real destinations and real timelines—and the talent to do it. She fell into the same mold. Alan should have taught her something, but she seemed doomed to repeat life’s tough lessons. With every touch, every whispered endearment, every thrust, Ian edged her closer to happily-ever-after.

  She’d be the first to admit that all her airy-fairy day-dreaming was a problem, potential or otherwise. Ian, with even more unrealistic expectations, managed to translate every competitive success into plans for having their own place and turning the equine world on its collective ear. How they truly expected to support themselves was beyond her. They had no financial backing and no immediate prospects for securing it.

  Backers would demand exceptional horsemanship, and while she was naturally assertive, she also wasn’t a fool. When examined with a clinical eye, her skill set owed more to having big brass ones than to finesse. She admitted that she was just okay at dressage, and she clearly didn’t have the discipline to get to the Grand Prix jumper level. She was all about flying down a cross-country course, taking impossible oxers with a five-foot-spread, hand galloping with the wind at her back and a hank of mane in her face. She was about speed, not control, though she had to admit that the control aspect was nicely in hand when Ian rode her slow and easy.

  That was the real problem. Ian rode her, and rode her well, finessing the best possible performance. But what would happen when she finally reached her level? What then? Would he be satisfied or would he move on to the next mount who could advance him further?

  Winter bled into a particularly wet spring, keeping them indoors and bored out of their gourds. Ian had taken over riding the mare her friend, Beth, had bequeathed to her for training. She’d wisely given the talented, but sensitive, horse to her lover as she was too aggressive a rider. Her style only led to confrontations that left both horse and rider frustrated. It had gotten to a point that when she got on her, the mare pinned her ears and copped an attitude.

  The witch needed the tender ministrations of Ian’s soft hands and gentle persuasion. For him, the mare was liquid mercury, oozing around the corners in a bend to die for, working the complicated patterns with power and precision. With Ian on her back, the two of them made it look easy.

  They did a video at the spring show hosted by the New Jersey Horse Park. The judges awarded Beth’s mare scores in the high sixties her first time at fourth level—a spectacular debut. Susan was so happy for Ian she could have cried. Instead she got a bright idea.

  The day dawned oppressive, early spring masquerading as high summer. She approached the tack room that doubled as Lotte’s office with some trepidation. Lotte had been less than pleased with Ian’s and her relationship, which was bewildering on a lot of levels given Lotte’s history of playing Yenta. She had expected some measure of support, not the mostly stony silence and pinched lips. On this matter Jacob seemed more ‘live and let live’, role reversal at its most confusing.

  She entered and found Lotte sitting with her feet up sipping a glass of iced tea. The older woman looked her way and nodded to the seat. She offered a glass but Susan felt her belly churning with anxiety and declined. She didn’t need a distraction, she needed to get her proposal on the table while her boss seemed disposed to at least listen.

  Susan sat and waited until the handsome woman finished recording in the ledger resting on her lap. They’d been to a number of early shows so it was time to tally expenses. She should pay attention, ask questions, but that minutiae of running a riding/training facility wasn’t something she wanted to understand, at least not right now.

  Before she could launch into her request to consider Ian as a principal rider for one of the two new Warmbloods in for training, Lotte folded the papers and ledger into a neat pile and spoke first.

  “Ian and I had a talk.” Susan’s eyebrows shot up. “He is quite a remarkable boy. Perhaps I should say man. He is no longer the young lad we knew. He knows his own heart, this one.”

  Susan twisted on the hard metal seat, not sure where this was going.

  “We sent the video to David and Beth. David showed it to his mentor in Florida. Everyone was most impressed with the mare and … Ian.”

  Uh-oh. Susan had a feeling she wasn’t going to like this news at all.

  “David has arranged for Beth’s mare to be shipped to West Palm Beach for further training. The shipper will pick her up in two weeks.”

  “But that means that Ian won’t have anything to ride,” Susan cried out. “He’s too good for the school horses. Please Lotte, don’t let them do this. Ian deserves better.”

  “Yes, I agree, Ian deserves a decent mount. That’s why David has offered Ian a position as a working student at his barn. He will have access to the best Warmbloods on the East Coast and the best trainers.”

  Susan sat open-mouthed. That was beyond generous of David.

  Lotte continued, “But there is a small problem.” She looked like she’d sucked a lemon, her mouth tight and her eyes flashing ominously with, for her, unrestrained anger.

  “What? What problem?” Susan thought she knew but needed to hear it from Lotte.

  “He will not go. He will not leave you.”

  “But that’s stupid. He can’t do that. It would only be for a short time, wouldn’t it?” Lotte shook her head no. “So how long is long?”

  “David and Beth have decided to remain in Fort Lauderdale. David has been hired to train and Beth to manage the operation, as well as professionally groom. It is a huge opportunity for them.”

  “Yeah, that’s great. But how long for Ian?” She couldn’t keep the hitch out of her voice.

  “Two years. He would be certified to train. His future would be secure. He could come back here and have his choice of positions. If he wanted, he could even aim for the US team with that kind of background and the right sponsor.”

  Two years? That was an eternity. And he’d turned it down. For her. The fool. She never realized until that moment how much she cared about him, and how much it would hurt to let him go. She struggled to her feet, gave Lotte a long stare and strode from the room.

  Susan found Ian in the mare’s stall. He’d been grooming her, spending quality time before saying goodbye.

  “Ian, we need to talk.” He nodded but never took his eyes off the horse. “Let’s go to the house.”

  Silently she led him down the lane to her place. Mercifully Maggy was away for the weekend so they had it to themselves. But not for much longer.

  Oh God, this is going to hurt.

  She let them in, but before she got into the living room, Ian gathered her in his arms and rocked her gently. Nuzzling her hair, he remained silent. That told her everything she needed to know.

  “Oh, Ian. You have to go. You can’t stay here and give up an opportunity like this. It only comes once in a lifetime.” She didn’t bother to hide her tears. “If you care for me, you’ll go. Do this for me.”

  Little would be gained in faking false cheerfulness and mother-knows-best sentiments. She understood the stakes, the vagaries of luck, as well as he did. Sometimes the chasm between want and do narrowed enough to risk a leap of faith. It was long past time for her to grow up and take responsibility for looking to someone else’s well-being instead of her incessant focus on her own needs.

  Radiating misery, he hugged her until she could barely take a breath. Finally he spoke, his voice thick with emotion.

  “That’s the thing, Suz. I love you. I want to be with you always. I was waiting to ask you, until I was sure what I could do to support us. I want to marry you. I’ve never wanted anything so much in my life.”

  Expelling an ‘O’ of surprise, she flushed in anticipation as Ian got down on one knee and pleaded, “Marry me, be my wife. I promise to love you and take care of you forever.”

  Before she could even process the words, let alone a response, he rose with fluid grace and picked her up as if she weighed nothing. He carried her up the stairs to the bed, as she clung to his neck, thinking this isn’t real, it can’t be real. Alan said the exact same words … Alan.