Catch A Fallen Star

Teenagers weren’t supposed to like their parents, and parents weren’t supposed to be their teens’ friends. In a few years, her daughter would thank her for being a parent and not a friend. Ruby had been given all that advice and then some as Violet approached this wretched age. It didn’t always ease the pain of her daughter’s constant rejection, though.

“Why do you always have to show up so early?” Violet complained. “I still have to clean Sassy up before I can go.”

Ruby took a deep breath and reminded herself not to be offended by her daughter’s tone. “I can wait. No worries.”

“Why don’t you let your mom know what you accomplished today?” Jesse prompted.

There was a small glimmer of pride in Violet’s eyes. “I got Sassy to perform a flying lead change.”

“Really?” Ruby tried to show the right amount of enthusiasm. Violet hated too much and resented too little. “That’s awesome.”

“Do you even know what that means, Mom?”

Ruby had no idea, since she had little to no experience with horses, but she wasn’t about to admit it. “Yeah, of course.”

Violet seemed unconvinced. Jesse saved the day. “Violet’s doing a great job of getting Sassy to change her lead legs. I think the two of them are going to do really well at the horse show in a couple of weeks. Do you want to join us in the tack room, Ruby?”

The look on Violet’s face made it clear she did not want her mother to come with them. The last thing Ruby needed was to agitate her bear of a daughter.

“I need to touch base with Dean about something,” Ruby said, throwing a thumb over her shoulder. “But I’ll meet you in there in a few minutes.”

Violet’s visible relief was yet another punch in the stomach.

“All right, we’ll chat when you get back,” Jesse said.

Ruby headed toward the main house. She’d probably have to go through Dean to land Holly an interview with Boone Williams. He ran his record company from somewhere on the property.

As she climbed the porch steps, the sound of someone screaming bloody murder made her pause. Someone was not happy and was letting the heavens know about it. Fearing someone was hurt, she followed the porch around to see what was wrong.

Boone stood in the yard and was doing his best impression of a woman in the throes of childbirth. He puffed his chest out and let his head fall back as he roared at the sky. He took a deep breath and relaxed his shoulders. When he opened his eyes, his gaze fell squarely on Ruby.

Feeling as if she had been caught snooping instead of doing a welfare check, she took a step back and tripped over a rocking chair that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Ruby fell on her behind and felt a sharp pain in her wrist as she attempted to break her fall.

Those stormy blue eyes that had blown her over were now glaring at her through the slats of the porch railing. He somehow managed to look angrier than he had a moment ago.

“Unbelievable,” he growled.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_861ff6bc-e53b-56e6-abdc-e0bf1193bd22)

BOONE WAS NEVER truly alone. Lonely, yes. Alone, never. There were always plenty of people around. Some of them had a job to do. Most wanted something from him. He hadn’t figured out where this redheaded mystery fit in.

“Did you hurt yourself?” he asked even though the grimace on her face told him she had.

She inspected her wrist, wincing as she rolled it around. “Yes.”

“Good.” Boone headed back toward his trailer. That was what she got for spying on him.

“Good?” she shouted from the porch.

This was exactly the kind of thing Boone was trying to avoid by coming to this place. He hated all the prying eyes and straining ears back in Nashville. Everyone wanted in his business.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, you know that?” The nosy redhead wasn’t finished interrupting his scream therapy.

Boone stopped and turned as she came barreling after him. He really shouldn’t have been mad. It wasn’t like the therapy he was testing out helped ease any of the frustration he felt. He was beginning to think every doctor/psychologist/psychiatrist/social worker he’d seen in the past few years was a quack.

That didn’t mean he’d cut this intruder any slack, though. “I have a lot of nerve? You’re the one snooping around,” he accused her.

Her face was flushed as she held her injured wrist against her chest. “Snooping? You sounded like you were being murdered! Excuse me for caring enough to make sure you weren’t dying.”

“Nobody’s dying. Even you and your poor little wrist will live.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You should really get those issues checked out. Whatever your problem is, it’s bad.”

This woman sure was something. “The only problem I have is that you seem to think I owe you something because you tripped over your own two feet.”

“I tripped over a rocking chair, thank you very much.” She smoothed her hair and tugged on the hem of her shirt. There was a bit of insecurity under all that tough talk. “Next time I hear you screaming, I’ll be sure to let whatever’s eating you have at it.”

“Perfect,” he replied, hating himself for noticing the cute way her eyebrow was cocked. Fine, she was attractive, but he was not interested.

She stared hard at him before spinning on her heel and taking off. Boone sighed with relief, but she stopped and came back at him. She apparently was never going to leave him alone.

“You know, I have a friend who works for the Grass Lake Gazette, and I almost feel like it’s my duty to tell her to warn the good people of this town to steer clear of Helping Hooves so they don’t find out the almighty Boone Williams is an enormous jerk.”

“So you do recognize me.” He knew it. She had almost fooled him earlier in the barn. Then the rest of what she’d said settled in. “Wait, who works for the paper?” It figured she was also in cahoots with one of his least favorite groups of people—the press.

Instead of answering, she stormed off. He followed her for no good reason other than that she had made him lose his mind.

“I’m here to get away from the media,” he said, trying his best to catch her. “I don’t need anyone publishing anything about me.”

She was not only irritating but also incredibly fast. She made it to the barn before he could reach her.

“Did you hear me?” When he touched her arm, she whipped around and swatted at him.

“We have this thing called freedom of the press here in this country. Journalists can write about anything they want.”

“I know they can. I got people writing baloney about me every day.”

“Well, maybe you should think before you act and people wouldn’t have so many salacious things to write.”

Boone felt his temperature rise. “You know nothing about me.”

“Oh my gosh, Mom! Stop making a scene.” The woman’s daughter stood outside one of the stalls with her hands on her hips, staring them both down.

“Stay out of this, Violet.”

“Stay out of this, kid,” Boone said at the same time.

“Don’t tell my daughter what to do,” the woman snapped.