between them once and for all. If she was going to be running the horse farm that his newfound grandmother, Emerald Larson, had insisted he take over, it was essential that they get whatever had her panties in a twist straightened out so they could at least be civil.
In the meantime, he needed to unpack and put in a call to Emerald, Inc. headquarters to find out what the hell Emerald had up her sleeve this time. Given her track record of setting her grandchildren up to find their soul mate, he wasn’t naive enough to think that she wasn’t attempting to do the same thing with him. He wasn’t sure how she’d done it, but she had to have discovered that, however brief it had been, that he and Heather had a bit of history.
But the old girl was in for a big disappointment if she thought her tactics were going to work with him. He wasn’t looking to settle down with a wife, kids and the requisite canine. Nor was he inclined to trade his sleek little red Ferrari for a family-friendly minivan with car seats and clumps of dog hair.
With a plan of action to set down a few ground rules for both Emerald and his farm manager, Jake followed the path around the antebellum mansion to the circular drive in front where he’d parked his sports car. Just as he pressed the remote on his keychain to open the trunk, a teenage boy wearing stylishly ragged jeans, an oversize chartreuse T-shirt with It Is What It Is screen-printed on the front and a red baseball cap turned backward on his head came out of the house to greet him.
“Hi, Mr. Garnier,” the kid said, crossing the veranda and bounding down the steps. He came to a sliding halt at the side of the car, then stood staring at it as if in awe. “Suh-weet.”
“Thanks,” Jake said, chuckling at the way the boy stretched the simple word into two syllables. “And you are?”
“Daily.” He grinned. “My dad was a horse trainer before he died and talked my mom into naming me after the Daily Double at Churchill Downs.” He reverently circled the car. “Dude, I have got to get me a ride like this when I get old.”
Jake realized that the kid was talking to himself and meant no disrespect. But the comment reminded him that within a few short weeks he’d mark his thirty-seventh year and he supposed that in the eyes of a young teenager, he was probably considered a fossil.
Smiling, Jake reached into the trunk for the suitcase he’d packed for his short stay at Hickory Hills. But Daily jumped forward to grab the handle.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Garnier. I didn’t mean to get so carried away looking at your car.” He hoisted the suitcase out of the trunk. “My grandma sent me out to get your luggage and take it upstairs for you.”
“You’re Mrs. Buchanan’s grandson?” Jake asked, following Daily up the steps of the veranda.
The boy nodded. “Grandma’s in charge of the house and Heather is in charge of everything else.” Daily’s youthful face suddenly split into a wide grin. “Wait until you meet Heather. For an older chick, she’s way hot. Having her to look at every morning makes my chore of mucking out stalls a lot easier.”
When Emerald and her stoic assistant, Luther Freemont, had met with him to turn over ownership of the farm, they’d informed him that Clara Buchanan was the live-in housekeeper. But they hadn’t said a word about Heather being the farm manager. That just reinforced Jake’s theory that Emerald was definitely up to something. Why else would she mention the name of the housekeeper and leave out all reference to the woman who ran the majority of the farm?
“I’ve met Heather.” The kid couldn’t be more than fourteen or fifteen years old, but it seemed he already had an appreciative eye for the ladies. “And I agree. She’s very pretty.”
When Daily opened the double doors and stood back, Jake entered the foyer and immediately felt as if he’d taken a step back in time. Decorated with furniture he had no doubt were period antiques, he half expected to see a woman in a wide hoop skirt descend the sweeping circular staircase. Or more likely a Kentucky colonel dressed in a white suit and holding a mint julep come strolling out of the study.
“Grandma told me to take your luggage up to the west wing,” Daily said, walking toward the stairs. “If you want me to, I can show you where your room is, Mr. Garnier.”
“Lead the way.” When they reached the top of the staircase, Jake grinned. “I’ll bet sliding down a banister like this one is as close to being on a roller coaster as you get without going to an amusement park.”
“Oh, dude, talk about a rush,” Daily said, his voice enthusiastic. He stopped suddenly, a concerned expression crossing his youthful face. “Uh, you probably don’t want me doing that because of scratching the finish.”
“It’s water under the bridge now.” Jake shook his head. “But I’m not as concerned with a few marks on the wood as I am about you taking a fall. That’s a long way down and you could be badly injured.”
“You won’t tell my grandma, will you? She’ll kill me if she finds out.”
Jake took pity on the kid. “As long as you don’t do it again, I think we can keep it between the two of us.”
Clearly relieved to hear Jake would be keeping his secret, the boy smiled. “Thanks. You’re really cool, Mr. Garnier.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Every time Daily called him Mr. Garnier, he felt as old as dirt. “And while you’re at it, why don’t you call me Jake?”
* * *
After a delicious lunch, Jake strolled back down the path leading to the stables and couldn’t help but wonder if he’d lost his touch with the opposite sex. He’d never had this much trouble with women in his entire life. If things didn’t change, he just might end up developing a complex.
Emerald, for one, was purposely avoiding him and unless he missed his guess, she’d continue to do so for a while. She had to know he was on to her latest matchmaking scheme and no doubt wanted to avoid having him tell her to mind her own damned business.
But Mrs. Buchanan’s sudden disappearance right after serving him lunch was a complete mystery. She’d been friendly enough when he first walked into the kitchen. But as soon as she put his plate in front of him, she’d apologized and rushed off to the housekeeper’s quarters as if she thought he was contagious.
And then there was the chilly reception he’d received from Heather that morning. Her body language and obvious contempt let him know in no uncertain terms exactly how she felt about his reappearance in her life. But try as he might, he couldn’t figure out why. He hoped for better luck with her during their meeting this afternoon, but he wasn’t fool enough to count on that happening.
Entering the stable, he walked past several stalls to the opposite end of the structure where the manager’s office was located. He wasn’t the least bit surprised that Heather was nowhere in sight. Given her attitude toward him, he really expected no less. He wasn’t, however, prepared for the very large black dog that got up from a blanket in the corner, walked over and stretched out on top of his feet.
“At least you’re friendly,” he said, reaching down to pet the dog’s head.
Irritated that she’d obviously blown off his request to set up a meeting with the farm employees, he extricated his feet from beneath the animal and covered the short distance to where the broodmares were kept. He found Heather bent over a horse lying on its side in one of the stalls, and his mouth went completely dry. She was dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans and a pale pink T-shirt. With the denim hugging her shapely little bottom to perfection, he didn’t think twice about taking in the delightful view.
As she straightened, an older man Jake assumed to be one of the grooms brushed past him to enter the stall and hand her a pair of rubber gloves. When she pulled them on they extended up to her shoulders.
“What’s going on?” he asked, venturing farther into the enclosure.
“The stork is going to make it before the vet.” She knelt down behind the horse in the middle of the oversize stall. “Jake, I want