and more about the shape of those lips.
“Let me think about it,” she said.
He didn’t move, even though it was obvious she wanted him to leave. But he couldn’t do that. If he couldn’t bring himself to rummage through her belongings, he needed to come up with some other way to get the information out of her.
“Don’t chew it over too long,” he said, forcing himself to smile. “Tomorrow’s Sunday. From what I hear, things are going to get crazy on Monday.” He walked to the door, but didn’t leave. He turned to face her, effectively imprisoning her between his body and the wall.
“I want to help you,” he said.
“You do?”
Man, she was a pretty little thing. He couldn’t keep from staring at her mouth. “Let me coach you some more.”
She chewed the inside of her lip. She looked adorable when she did that. Like a kid trying to determine if she wanted vanilla ice cream or chocolate.
“What time were you thinking?” she asked.
“Maybe around ten or so?” he said, cursing inwardly. She was not to be trusted. “I’m supposed to do some things around the barn tomorrow. So after that?”
She seemed to think about it for a moment. “All right. Tomorrow.”
“See you then,” he said, because he knew if he didn’t leave right then, he might do something he would regret. And that wouldn’t be good. Logan had told him exactly how horrible this woman really was.
SEE YOU THEN.
Lord, her sister would be laughing her head off if she knew the direction of Amber’s thoughts.
A cowboy.
“Brother,” she murmured, dropping onto the bed.
But she didn’t get much sleep that night. She told herself she could bug out on Colt, maybe go down and try to halter and work with Flash on her own. But that would be silly. She didn’t want to get hurt. She wanted to learn.
The other option was asking Jarrod, but something about the guy’s attitude really rubbed her the wrong way. At least Colt seemed genuine.
So she showed up in her jeans and a sweatshirt. While the day had dawned overcast and cold—typical January weather—the fog had burned off, leaving bright blue skies behind, although it was still a bit chilly. When she arrived at the stables, she was startled to see Flash already tied out front, and that Colt wasn’t alone.
“Mac,” he called to the dog, which stood up when he saw her.
“You have a dog?” she asked in shock.
“I do.”
“Hey, there,” she said, squatting.
“Mac!”
But the dog didn’t listen. As if he’d been waiting for just such an invitation, he charged.
“Damn it, Mac!”
But Amber didn’t mind. She held out her arms, thoroughly enchanted with the gray-black-and-brown animal. He had no tail. It’d been cropped at some point, but that didn’t stop his rear end from swinging back and forth.
“What kind of dog is he?”
“Australian shepherd,” Colt said. “And I’m about to deport him back to his homeland.” He stomped forward.
“No, it’s okay,” she said, staving him off with a hand. “I love dogs.”
“You do?”
“I do,” she exclaimed, plunging her hands into the shepherd’s thick fur and giving him a good scratch. Mac fairly moaned. “Such pretty eyes,” she cooed. They were blue. Blue like the water in Crater Lake. “But where have you been keeping him?”
“In my room,” he said. “Gil told me that was okay as long as he didn’t cause trouble.”
“What?” she said in mock surprise. “Mac, cause trouble? Nah.” She smiled at the animal.
When she stood up, she found Colt staring at her, and she felt self-conscious all of a sudden. “I see you got Flash ready.”
“Uh, yeah. Hope you don’t mind. I didn’t see any good reason to torture you by making you halter the animal. I want you to enjoy yourself today.”
“Thanks,” she said, her relief so great she almost hugged him.
“Come on, Mac.”
“Where are you putting him?”
“In one of the empty stalls. I don’t want him getting under your feet. Go on in and get some brushes,” Colt added. “I’ll be right back.”
She did so, thinking In for a penny, in for a pound.
“Don’t those hard bristles hurt?” she asked when he came back out.
“No, not like that.” Colt took the brush from her hand. She felt the jolt of their fingers meeting like a static charge.
“And horses actually like it,” he said.
As he moved closer, Amber found herself wanting to edge away.
“Use long strokes,” Colt instructed, his gaze hooking her own. “Start at his neck and work your way back. Sometimes it’s easier to use a currycomb first. That’ll knock the hair loose.”
“And a currycomb looks like … what, exactly?”
Colt bent and pulled something out of the bucket that caused her to say, “Ouch. Now that can’t feel good.” It looked like a lollipop, only the “pop” part was made of metal. And it had teeth. Sharp, pointed teeth.
“You’d be surprised what feels good to a horse.”
She eyed the animal. “Actually, given that I know absolutely nothing about them, I don’t think anything would surprise me. How do I use the currycomb?”
“Move it in circular patterns.”
She nodded. “Wax on. Wax off.”
“Excuse me?”
“Karate Kid. Haven’t you ever seen that movie?”
Colt stared down at her as if he’d never heard of anything remotely related to karate—movies or otherwise—in his life, but that didn’t dissuade her.
“Sensei tell you to wax on, wax off,” she said.
But all Colt did was stare. The man was about as warm and as friendly as Mount Everest.
“Once you’re done,” he said, “follow up with the brush. I’m going to go get the tack.”
She gave the brush a hard flick, and was immediately rewarded by a cloud of dust and dander. She coughed, waving a hand in front of her face, although the smell of horse wasn’t all that unpleasant. And the animal seemed to have calmed down. His head hung low, his brown eyes half-closed, as if he was falling asleep at the hitching post. Hmm. Maybe this wouldn’t be as scary as she thought.
“You done?”
“No,” Amber said in exasperation. “And please don’t sneak up on me like that.”
Colt dropped the saddle and hung the bridle on the end of the post Flash was tied to. “Here,” he said, “I’ll do the other side.”
And that was how Amber found herself quietly grooming a horse—because Mr. Colt Sheridan appeared to be the tall, dark and silent type. But that was okay. It gave her time to think.
Dee would be arriving soon, although no one could make the connection. Her nephew’s birth certificate said Rudolph, a result of Sharron’s twisted sense of humor, when he’d been born on Christmas