Archer's Angels

She reached out with her back hoof, not really kicking at him but giving him a little goose. He stepped back, eyeing her warily. “Tonk,” he said, his tone warning.

She flipped her mane at him.

“Excuse me,” he heard.

Archer glanced up to see the little plain newcomer looking at him. “Yes?”

“I was just offered employment at the Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls Salon.”

“You were?” Straightening, he stared at her.

Marvella, the owner of the Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls, was always on the lookout for fresh stylists, and Marvella’s stylists were known far and wide to be babes—and if they weren’t babes, then they were possessed of supernatural talents. If you were a man, the Cut-n-Gurls could always help you out.

“Yes.” She nodded. “But I knew you said they weren’t your friends.”

“They’re not, that’s true. What is it that you do?” he asked, staring at her speculatively. Maybe there was more to her than he’d first thought. Marvella had a pretty good eye for these things.

“I—I’m not doing anything right now,” she said. “I’m on vacation.”

“So, what did you tell her?” Archer felt worry assail him. Employment with Marvella included hassles, so many she’d soon dream of giving back her wages.

“I told her, no, thank you. You said to avoid her.”

“I think it would be best. Not that I’m always right.”

She nodded. “Even your horse knows that.”

Archer frowned. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged. “She doesn’t like you.”

He was outraged. “She likes me fine!”

She shook her head. “No, see how she distances herself from you? She thinks you’re bossy. Trying to enforce yourself upon her.”

His jaw dropped. “She’s a horse. I’m supposed to enforce myself upon her.”

“She doesn’t like it. She’s trying to tell you that you’re annoying.”

Well, that was it. He didn’t have to listen to some half-baked claptrap like that. Tonk and he had a special relationship.

“How long have you had her?”

“Tonk and I have been together six months,” Archer said defensively. “And Tonk thinks I’m—”

“Bossy.” She reached a hand over the stall, and Tonk slid her nose under the woman’s fingers. “I understand, girl. Men can be very trying.”

“Are you trying to do that horse-talking thing?” Archer asked. “I don’t use horse psychology. I mean, I talk to Tonk, but I’m really just amusing myself. I don’t believe we’re actually communicating—”

Her eyebrows raised. She stared at him, her gaze challenging. Disbelieving?

Something about that attitude caught Archer’s attention. He looked at her more closely, finally seeing behind the specs.

“Those are beautiful eyes you’re hiding.”

Chapter Two

“Thank you,” Clove said, “I think.”

He looked at her. “No, really. You have lovely eyes. Very unique color.”

She was torn between feeling flattered, giving in to worry, or pulling out her tricks. He was, after all, the key player in her plan.

“What’s your name, stranger?” he asked.

“Clover,” she said, thinking quickly, not yet ready to reveal her identity.

“Clover? Is that a real name or are you making one up just to keep your distance?”

“It’s a real name.” Just not hers.

He frowned. “You don’t look like a Clover.”

“I’d ask you what I do look like, but I don’t want to know.” She leaned over into the stall. “Oh, Tonk has blue hooves,” she said. “I think blue hooves on a horse are so pretty.”

He narrowed his gaze on her. “Know a little something about horses, do you?”

“A little. My family owns a farm.” Clove glanced up at him. “We raise horses.”

“Oh? Where’s the farm? The Jeffersons know just about everyone in the business.”

“Well, you wouldn’t know us,” Clove said. “Our farm is not doing as well as one might hope.”

“Sorry to hear that.” He turned his attention back to Tonk, who was still nuzzling at Clove’s fingers.

“Oh, Archer!” Feminine voices floated into the stall.

Clove turned to see four beautiful girls walk by with flirtatious glances for Archer. She turned back around in time to see Archer’s chest puff out about four inches.

“Hey, ladies,” he called. “Nice winter weather, huh?”

They giggled. “We’ve got some hot cocoa when you feel like warming up,” one girl said.

Another nodded. “And some of our special potion tastes good on a freezing night. Madame Mystery’s—”

“Yes, yes,” Archer said hurriedly. He waved them on. “You girls behave. Get inside before you all catch colds.”

Laughing, they waved mittened fingers at him and moved on after casting him one last alluring glance.