The Fake Husband

“Sorry.” He released her and took a step back. “I’m…surprised…to see you. I had no idea you lived in this area.”

“Yes, I—I came back home. When I left New York.” She avoided his eyes, looking past his shoulder to where Andrew and Terry stood with Imperator. “Is this your champion?” She walked to the horse, stood close enough to let Imp get her scent. “He surely is gorgeous. Which shoe does he need?”

Business, Rhys reminded himself. She’s here on business. She’s the damn farrier.

“Right fore,” Terry supplied. “Good to see you, Jacquie. You were quite the rider when you were with us. Thought you’d go all the way.”

She smiled at him and shook her head. “I decided to pursue a more dependable income. But farrier work doesn’t always give you access to the great horses like this one.” When she extended her hand, Imperator allowed her to stroke his face—not a privilege he offered to many people. “You’re a big beauty, aren’t you?” Jacquie crooned. “I’ll bet it’s like riding the wind, being on your back.”

Rhys watched her commune with the horse, earning Imp’s trust in the way she’d always had with animals. They trusted her and, in turn, performed for her, meeting her demands with as much talent as they could command. He’d been harder on her than any of his other students, simply because she was so damn good.

Or maybe because he’d fallen in love with her the first time he saw her smile.

“Okay,” she said, turning from the horse to the bed of her truck. “Do you want me to trim him, or just replace the shoe?”

“Does he need a trim?” Rhys asked, knowing the answer perfectly well.

Jacquie eyed Imp’s hooves from a distance. Then she approached the horse, talking to him softly, running her hands over his shoulders to his chest and down his forelegs, picking up each in turn. Imp was usually a handful for any kind of examination, but he stood quiet for Jacquie, of course. He gave her a little more trouble about the rear legs, but she talked him through it and managed to look at each hoof closely.

When she came back to the truck, she glanced at Rhys and cocked her head. “As you no doubt know, he’s been trimmed within the last three weeks and doesn’t need it now. Do you have the shoe he pulled off?”

He grinned at her, relieved that she’d passed his test. “No, it’s somewhere on the lane between here and the highway.”

Tying on her farrier’s leather chaps, she didn’t grin back. “What were you doing riding on the road?”

“Long story.”

“Here to the highway is a long ride.”

“That, too.” He held her gaze for a moment, felt the shock as awareness kicked in, bringing with it memories he’d worked for years to bury.

Judging by the way her face froze, so had Jacquie. She jerked her head back and forth, a very definite rejection, and turned her back to him. “I’ve got the shoe he needs.”

Fast and efficient, she shaped the shoe on her anvil and fit it perfectly to Imperator’s hoof, then nailed it with a minimum of fuss and filed the ends off the nails. “I checked the other shoes,” she said, straightening up from her farrier’s crouch as easily as a child. “They look sound. You shoe him on the usual five-to-six-week schedule?

“Unless there’s a problem.”

She nodded. “Then he should be good for another three weeks, at least.”

Rhys glanced at Terry and got his nod of approval. “Glad to hear it. Andrew, bring Abner out here. Imperator can go into the paddock for a run.”

The shoeing process went as easily with the other three horses. At the end of an hour, Terry and Andrew resumed the schedule for the day as Jacquie put away her tools and took off her chaps. “If that’s all, I’ll write up a receipt.”

Leaving the door open, she climbed into the seat of her truck. On the passenger side, a black-and-white Australian shepherd sat up, panting with pleasure at having company once again.

“Nice dog,” Rhys commented, hoping he sounded more relaxed than he felt.

“We…her name is Hurry.” She didn’t look at him, or the dog.

He went around the hood of the truck and opened the passenger door to pet Hurry. “I’ve still got Sydney. Her arthritis is pretty bad, so she stays inside when it’s cold.”

The hand holding the pen faltered. “She was just a puppy.”

“Fourteen, now.” And an Australian shepherd, same as this one, which unnerved and pleased him, at the same time. “Would you like to come in and see her?” Jacquie was tempted, of that he had no doubt. And he would use any weapon he could find to reach her. “I bet she’d remember you.”

“Thanks, but I’ve got another job in a few minutes.” She handed him the receipt. “The total is one hundred dollars. My address is on there, if you’d like to mail me a check.”

“No, I’ll pay you now.” Trusting that she wouldn’t disappear while he went into the house wasn’t easy, but at least he had her address on the receipt. He could find her, this time. No private detectives, bringing back only dead ends.

On the driver’s side again, he handed her the cash. “Sure you won’t come in? We’ve got hot coffee and cold cinnamon rolls.”

“Tempting, but no thanks.” The corner of her mouth twitched, as if she wanted to grin. She tightened her fists around the steering wheel. Neither hand bore a ring or any sign she usually wore one. “So…are you here for the winter? Moving back to New York with warmer weather?”

He’d take any interest she displayed and be glad for it. “Probably not. The New England winters aren’t worth the summers anymore.” That was part of the truth, at least.

“And your family is down here with you?” Her flat tone suggested that she didn’t really care and asked only out of courtesy.

He tilted his head and gave her a bitter smile with the truth. “If you mean Terry and Andrew, yes. Olivia and I were divorced—finally, officially and forever—twelve years ago.”

“Oh.” Jacquie looked stunned for a second but recovered quickly. “Will…will you be teaching?”

“Definitely. I’ll get advertising in place soon, and I’m planning a schooling day when the weather gets warmer, just to let people know I’m here. Meanwhile, if you’ve got any clients who’d like lessons, send them my way.”

“Sure. Welcome to the neighborhood.” She said it without looking at him.

“Thanks.” Rhys decided to push her a little. “You didn’t answer my question, you know.”

“What question?”

“Why didn’t you get in touch when you left?”

“I—” For a moment, she looked cornered. “You know why. He’s mucking out stalls while we’re talking.”

The old anger grabbed him. “You didn’t even say goodbye.”

“What was the point? You were going back to your wife. I needed to clear out fast.” Her deep breath shook. “And now I’m going back to my own life. Thanks for the business. William Innes is a good farrier, next time you need somebody.” She cranked the engine, put the truck in gear and drove away—once again—without saying goodbye.

Rhys held up his receipt. “Oh, no, my dear. I’ve got a farrier already, by the name of Ms. Jacqueline Lennon.” He glanced at the paper, then did a double take. The sheet read “Ladysmith Farrier Service, Jacquie Archer, Farrier.”

“Archer? Archer? Just what the hell,” he demanded aloud, staring at the black truck now leaving his property, “does that mean?”

SINCE HIS FALL during a competition in New Zealand last November, one chore Andrew’s dad didn’t do was cleaning stalls. Most mornings, Andrew got that task all to himself, though occasionally Terry helped. Like today.

“So they knew each other before?” he asked the trainer, when he was sure his dad had gone into the house. “She was a student?”

“Yeah.” Terry dumped a forkful of dirty shavings into the bin. “One of the best he’s had. She was Olympic material if I’ve ever seen it.”

“What happened?”