Fear Of Falling

The horse neighed as if answering her question. He snorted and then backed away from her and went about eating his dinner.

Olivia clicked off several shots of Rocky, then she moved down to the chestnut horse, Merlot. Next was the bay, Misty.

She took photographs of all three before spinning around to see the strikingly beautiful, all-white Pegasus. “You do look like you thundered down from the heavens, don’t you, girl?”

Olivia clicked a dozen pictures of Pegasus before she moved back up the line to Rowan’s stall. Unlike the others, he had not displayed curiosity over hearing a stranger’s voice when she entered the stable. He’d hung back and was standing in the shadows of his stall.

She leaned over the gate and peered at him. “Whose horse are you?”

Rowan stood very still, his brown eyes assessing her, weighing her intentions with each word she spoke.

“You’re quite the cautious one. I like that. You want to be sure before you make your move. I don’t blame you. I’ve always thought it was wise to take my time. Size up the situation. And the opponent.” She lifted her camera to her face. “Except that I’m not the enemy.”

The second she peered through the viewfinder, framed him in what was to become her photograph, her breath caught in her lungs. Chills swept across her skin. She lowered the camera with stiff arms, too stunned to talk. He was magnificent.

Rowan lifted his snout a few inches and cocked it at an angle, giving her an imperious gaze. Haughty and self-assured, he sauntered toward her.

He was sleek and muscular, with eyes that were wise, intelligent and held no quarter for fools. Rowan had waited for her to move toward him first. He didn’t seek her out just because she was human. He’d waited for her like a king awaits an audience with his subjects.

His eyes never wavered from her face as he slowly approached her. This was different from those moments in the wild when animals would pause to stare at her. She wasn’t a curiosity to him. She wasn’t just being observed. It was as if they were connecting on some deeper level.

Friends.

The single word skittered across Olivia’s brain.

“I’ll be your friend,” she said aloud.

He hitched up his head.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered. Then she picked up her camera.

Olivia’s finger clicked off a dozen shots so fast she knew she’d caught his every breath. He swished his tail and pressed his snout against her camera as if daring her to put it away.

She lowered the camera and without another thought, she put her arms around his neck and hugged him. Feeling her cheek against his throat, she was amazed at the emotions racing through her. “I meant what I said. I want to be your friend.”

CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_d9de4f43-4d98-5c71-a2cf-2e287d2646c6)

RAFE WAS STILL HOLDING the Indian Lake horse race brochure when he left the barn. He’d promised Curt he would close down the stable and lock up so the trainer could go straight to bed.

Rafe had just opened the stable door when he heard someone speaking.

He couldn’t make out what was said, but it was definitely a woman’s voice that lilted through his ears. It was a sweet sound, and it floated toward him like a lullaby. Then he heard the woman say Rowan’s name with esteem and playfulness. He didn’t understand. His mother, Liz and Maddie were all up at the house, and no other women knew his horse. And this voice was totally unfamiliar to him.

He inched forward, curious about the intruder.

Then he saw her. Her head was turned away from him, a waterfall of lush brown hair falling down her back, glistening with gold-and-red highlights. She was standing on her tiptoes, leaning far enough over the gate to Rowan’s stall that he wondered if she knew she was in danger of falling right in.

He rushed up, grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back.

“Careful there!” he exclaimed as she tried to kick free of his grasp.

“What are you doing?”

“I thought you were going to fall,” he said. She straightened up and yanked the waistband of her jacket into place, but not before he saw a band of creamy skin.

“I can take care of myself! And I certainly wasn’t about to fall into a horse stall. I’m not stupid,” she snapped.

Where was that musical voice he’d heard a minute ago? Was there someone else in his stable he didn’t know about?

He fought a smile. He didn’t know who she was, but her brown eyes blazed at him as if he was the one off base here. He lifted his palms apologetically. “Hey, I just wanted to help.”

She snorted.

“I’m Rafe, by the way.” He kept staring at her. She was familiar, but that gloomy fog in his brain refused to dissipate.

The woman gave him a strange look. “Your mom wanted me to bring supper down here for Curt,” she said slowly, pointing behind him to the table. He glanced back, and sure enough, there was a plate of food covered in foil.

Then it hit him. “The cookie girl!”

“Pardon me?”

“Macarons. Or whatever they’re called. You’re the woman my mother hired.”

“Olivia,” she said. He could swear her tone held disappointment.

He grabbed her hand and shook it. “I knew I recognized you.”

“Um...you did?” She was staring at him as if he was nuts. Which he probably was at the moment. He hadn’t carried on a coherent conversation with anyone since his father died. “What I meant was that I didn’t know who you were when I first walked in here, but yes, I remember you now.”

Those eyes. Who could forget those eyes?

She raised her arm and gestured toward the stalls. “Your mother told me it was okay for me to meet her horse and maybe take a few pictures. I didn’t see Curt or anyone else out here, so I sort of...introduced myself to all your horses.”

It was cute, the way she stumbled over her apology. She had a pert mouth with a full bottom lip that was naturally pink. No lipstick. In fact, he didn’t see much makeup at all on her. Her cheeks were red from embarrassment or being caught red-handed; he didn’t know which. He’d have to get his mother to corroborate her story later.

“I love horses,” she explained. “I’ve always thought they were God’s most majestic animal.”

“Don’t tell that to any cat lover,” he joked, shifting his weight. “So, you ride, then?”

“Your mother asked me the same thing. I don’t. But I was around horses a lot as a kid with my friend Sarah Jensen—Bosworth now—when we went to her dressage classes.” She lowered her gaze as if deep in thought. “There were other times I was around horses, too.” She paused for a long moment.

Rafe couldn’t imagine what was going on with her, but he noticed that her shoulders slumped and a frown plowed across her forehead. Whatever she was remembering, it wasn’t good.

“I’m not sure I’d be good at riding,” she continued.

“You just need instruction and practice,” he said brightly, hoping to lift her spirits. “You certainly don’t seem to be afraid of horses. For most people, that’s half the battle.”

“Afraid.” She said the word as if considering its meaning. “Not exactly.” She smiled at him, but it was forced. Her eyes were guarded; she was definitely holding something back.