woman he’d ever seen.
Scratch that.
He’d seen her before, at Zach and Mariah’s wedding, and he’d done a double take back then, too. He’d noted the blue, blue eyes. The heart-shaped face and wide lips. The only thing different was her thick blond hair. She’d cut it off. Still no makeup, though. Women as attractive as she was didn’t need anything to help them look better.
“You’re—”
“Natalie Goodman,” she finished for him with a small smile.
“That’s right.” It wasn’t like him not to look at a person directly, but for some reason he couldn’t maintain eye contact with this pretty blonde. “English trainer or something,” he said, slipping the halter on Teddy.
His friend Wes had mentioned her a few billion times. Wanted them to meet, thought they’d get along, yada yada yada. His friend didn’t understand. Beautiful or not. Animal lover or not. Smart or not. Colt wasn’t the relationship type. Never had been, never would be. His past was just too...messy. Military. Crazy dad. It’d all left a mark. Things never worked out, and that was okay. He didn’t need anybody or anything. Just his horses.
“Hunters and jumpers.”
He peeked back at her. She smiled even wider. He patted Teddy’s head. “Well, nice to see you again, Miss Natalie Goodman. I hope you enjoyed the show.”
With any luck, she’d leave. She didn’t. He glanced over at her again. Off-white shirt—peasant blouse, they called it—and skin tight jeans. Too good-looking for her own good. He didn’t think he’d made a good impression the first time they’d met, and judging by the way one side of her mouth lowered, he would bet he wasn’t earning any bonus points now.
He began tying Teddy to the trailer. “Something I can do for you, ma’am?”
“Actually, yes.” She forced the wattage of her smile back up a notch. “I need a favor.” But her grin was as precarious as a butterfly perched on the edge of a flower, and an instant later it slipped, that sweet face of hers rearranging itself into an expression of resignation. “Wes and Jillian suggested I talk to you.”
Colt could well imagine what was behind that suggestion, considering the number of times Wes had hinted at getting them together. He forced himself to look her full in the face.
“What kind of favor?”
“I need a horse trainer.”
He had to have misheard her. “Sorry?”
She took a step toward him and brushed her short hair over an ear, almost as if she’d forgotten for a moment that it wasn’t long anymore. “I need a trainer. Someone who can make horses do things I can’t.”
Teddy nudged him, almost knocking him over, reminding him that he’d been in the process of tending to the horse. Wasn’t like him to lose focus like that.
“Sorry, but I must be slow on the uptake. From what I’ve heard you’re the best thing since sliced bread. Horsewoman of the year. International fame. What could you possibly need me for?” He lifted a brow. “Thinking of chucking it all and starting your own rodeo company?”
The side of her mouth tipped upward again, the beginnings of a smile, a real smile, brightening her blue eyes. “Something like that.”
He finished tying up Teddy. He really didn’t have time to sit around and chat. He had to get on the road fairly quickly if he wanted to be up north before dark. He had a show in Sacramento tomorrow.
“So?” He bent to check one of Teddy’s front feet. “Do you have a problem horse or something?”
“I have a problem life.”
He set down Teddy’s foot. Join the club. “Okay, spill.”
Oddly, or maybe not so oddly since he made his living watching things closely, he found he could read her like a book. He spotted the way her desire to ask for help warred with her sense of independence. She didn’t really want to be there, standing in a parking area for rodeo competitors, talking to him.
“I’ve decided to take up a new discipline of riding.” The grin she wrestled onto her face didn’t seem to want to cooperate. “Freestyle reining, preferably without a bridle.”
He’d been about to cross to Teddy’s other side. Instead he froze and looked at her from beneath the angled brim of his cowboy hat. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope.”
“What—did jumping lose its appeal?”
She looked down to the ground, but not before he caught the subtle flinch. “I need a change.”
Need? Not want? “And you can’t make that change yourself.”
It wasn’t a question, more like an affirmation of facts, but she didn’t seem to like the words because her head swung up. “Reining seems pretty straightforward compared to what I used to do, but in order to be competitive, I need help. And riding my horse without a bridle isn’t coming along as quickly as I’d like. I need someone to tell me what I’m doing wrong. Shouldn’t take you more than a visit or two.”
“Why do you want to ride bridleless?”
She lifted her chin. “Because it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. I want to master it.”
And he’d always wanted to fly jet planes. Didn’t mean it would happen. “That can’t be done in a visit or two. Teaching a horse to trust you, to listen to you out of love and not because you demand it, something like that takes time.”
“I’ve got all the time in the world.”
“But I’ve got a full schedule. This time of year, summer, is my busiest season. I’ll be lucky to be home three days this month.”
“Could you spend one of those days with me?”
He almost laughed. Did the woman not understand? He spent most of his life on the road. The last thing he needed was one more thing to do when he managed to get home. “Not without rearranging a lot of stuff.”
“Just one lesson.”
He shook his head. “I told you. One lesson won’t be enough.”
“Then two. I’ll pay you for your time.”
“Don’t you have enough to do with your jumping career?”
Direct hit. Disappointment poured from her eyes. Disappointment and sadness and resignation. She tried to hide it, or maybe even to ignore it, but it didn’t work.
“I can’t jump anymore.” She tapped her head. “Bad wreck last year, right after Zach and Mariah’s wedding. I almost died.” She broke the connection of their gaze for a moment, clearly battling memories. He watched her take a deep breath before meeting his gaze again and saying, “I lost all my clients, had to sell the horses I jumped, gave up the lease on my riding facility. When I got back on the one horse I still owned it was like learning to ride all over again. I can train people on the flat, from the ground, and I have a few new clients now, but nothing like I had before. I need to keep all four feet on the ground—all four hooves, that is. No more jumping. It’s just not physically possible for me. So here I am, starting over, and reining is what I want to do.”
Don’t do it, he warned himself. Don’t you get sucked in by pity. Or a pair of pretty eyes.
“You really think you’ll never jump again?”
The chin tipped even higher. “I told you. Never.”
He glanced at Teddy. Though he told himself not to go down that road, he found himself wondering what he would do if he were told he could never perform with his animals again. If he was forced to stop doing the thing he loved, the thing that was his sanity. His calm in the storm of life. His saving