The Horse Trainer's Secret Page 4

  But she hadn’t met his eyes.

  “And, anyway—” she shifted again “—I don’t mix business and pleasure.”

  He hid a smile. “If you don’t want to know where the horse barn’s going to be relocated, it’s no sweat to me.” He turned and took a step past the salmon chair.

  “Is it bigger?”

  He paused and turned back around. “No reason to move it if it wasn’t.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You could just tell me now.”

  He shrugged. “True. But I’m hungry.”

  She frowned. “Maybe I’m not.”

  He just waited.

  After a full minute, she made an annoyed sound. Her shoulders came down and she flopped her hands. “Fine. But just dinner.”

  He smiled. “Just dinner.”

  It was a good enough place to start.

  * * *

  Rather than take Megan to Colbys Bar & Grill, which would have been Nick’s first choice if he weren’t avoiding reminders of that night in March, he took her to a pizza joint not far from his condo.

  Pizza Bella had good food. He didn’t know what the secret was with their crust, but it was better than most. And they had even better beer.

  It was just a happy coincidence that the booths provided an undeniable sense of intimacy.

  No matter how hard Megan tried to keep her long legs from knocking against his beneath the small table, she couldn’t, and when she swore under her breath for the third time before they’d even gotten past their bruschetta appetizer, Nick was unable to hold back a laugh.

  “Do you ever relax?”

  She had refused the beer and was white-knuckling a tall glass of lemonade. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  He shook his head. “At the risk of having you take my head off for the observation, you weren’t this uptight before.”

  “I am not uptight.”

  “Right. Squeeze that glass any harder and it might break in two.” He leaned his forearms on the table. “Look, Megan. Seriously. You want to pretend that night between us didn’t happen, then that’s what we’ll do. I’m a grown man. I can pretend there’s no attraction between us.” But he wasn’t going to lie outright and say there was none.

  She started to open her mouth and he lifted his fingers. “Just hear me out.”

  She clamped her lips together again.

  “You’re going to be here in Weaver for at least the next couple months—”

  “At least?” Her eyes widened with obvious alarm. “At most, you mean. I’m supposed to be back at Angel River in July.”

  He decided that now probably wasn’t the best time to explain the realities of construction and how the law of averages meant that timelines and budgets almost always ran over.

  “Regardless, we’re going to be working together on the equestrian facilities. That’s the whole reason you’re here.” He sat back. “It’ll be a lot easier if you just trust that I’m not going to try to get you into bed every time you turn around.” It wasn’t entirely true. He’d be more than happy to get her back into bed. But he did have a job to do. And he had respect for a woman’s boundaries.

  She quirked an eyebrow. “I don’t think you’re trying to get me into bed every time I turn around.” She sounded resentful.

  “All right, then.” He spread his hands. “Gage Stanton wanted you involved here because he trusts your expertise. And the guy’s never wrong. Combine your expertise with mine and we’ll create something—”

  She suddenly pushed away from the table. “Sorry,” she mumbled, “I’ll be right back.”

  Frowning, he watched her hurry out of the dining room, narrowly avoiding the teenage server bringing their pizzas—the heart-attack special for Nick and the cheese-and-basil one for her.

  “She comin’ back?” The kid placed the pizzas and a stack of extra napkins on the table.

  “Yeah.”

  The teenager looked skeptical. “There’s a window in the ladies’ bathroom, dude. Yesterday, some guy’s date climbed out of it.”

  “She’ll come back,” Nick said with a lot more confidence than he suddenly felt.

  “Well, if she doesn’t—” the server gestured at the cheese-and-basil pizza “—I can wrap that whole thing up for you to go.”

  “She’ll be back,” he repeated flatly. Then he picked up his beer and tried not to think about the way she’d snuck out of her own motel room while he’d slept.

  Chapter Three

  Megan stared at her reflection in the narrow mirror next to the curtained window and pinched her cheeks until they no longer looked so pale.

  How was she going to explain any of this to Nick without actually explaining any of this?

  The locked door behind her rattled and she quickly turned on the water in the sink.

  “Mommy, I gotta go,” a young voice said, and Megan’s shoulders sagged. She couldn’t hide out in the ladies’ room forever even if she wanted to.

  When had she turned into such a coward?

  She washed her hands, turned off the water and unlocked the door to find a little girl and her mom standing just outside. The girl was doing the pee jig that Rory’s boy, Killian, used to do when he needed to go, and she felt the familiar stab of missing them both. “All yours,” she told the mom and daughter as she stepped out of the way.

  The nausea that had sent her careening out of the dining room had disappeared as soon as she’d hung her head over the toilet, with nothing—nothing!—at all happening.

  It was just one more annoying thing in her life: the fact that she could be so nauseated and not actually lose her lunch. A lunch she had never gotten around to eating because she’d fallen asleep in her motel room following that meeting on the mountain. She, who hadn’t indulged in naps since she’d been a three-year-old.

  She reentered the dining room.

  Most of the booths were now occupied and Nick had stood up and was talking to a couple sitting in one of them. When he spotted her, he waved her over. “Megan, this is J.D. and Jake Forrest. And their youngest, Tucker.”

  She felt aggravated by life in general at the moment, but still managed to go through the motions of being polite. “Nice to meet you.” She shook their hands and exchanged smiles with the boy sitting between them. Tucker looked older than Killian by a few years, but judging by the way he was shoveling down his food, he had the same kind of insatiable appetite.

  “J.D. and Jake run a horse rescue,” Nick told her.

  Megan’s attention pricked. “Really.”

  “Yeah, and Nick says you’re a wrangler.” J.D. had light blond hair pulled up in a ponytail and an engaging grin. “You’re the one we’ve been hearing about who’ll be working on April and Jed’s place.”

  Megan glanced at Nick.

  “Word travels in Weaver,” he said wryly. “Particularly when it comes to family.”

  Word traveled where Megan came from, too. Which was why there wasn’t a soul outside of the staff at the Wymon Women’s Clinic who knew she was pregnant.

  She looked again at Jake and J.D. Jake had dark hair like Nick, albeit tending toward salt-and-pepper at his temples. “Are you and Nick cousins?”

  But it was J.D. who answered. “More or less. Jake’s aunt Susan is married to Nick’s grandfather on his dad’s side. And my grandfather, Squire Clay, is married to Nick’s grandmother, Gloria, on the other side.”

  “Unless they get divorced,” Tucker muttered, not looking up from his pizza. “That’s what Zach and Connor say is gonna happen.”

  “They’re not going to get divorced,” J.D. said firmly, “no matter what your big brothers seem to think. Once you see them together at the party this weekend, you’ll feel better.”

  Tucker made a face but didn’t argue.

  “Squire and Gloria have been separated for a little while,”
Nick explained. “Anyway, our pizza’s getting cold, but I thought you’d like to meet. J.D. is always looking for riders to help keep the horses exercised.”

  The woman nodded. “We never have enough volunteers at Crossing West so you’d be more than welcome. Especially someone as experienced with horses as you must be.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” It was more than a polite response. When Megan had first agreed to return to Weaver to work on the equestrian setup for Gage, she’d thought she’d be facing a summer without much opportunity to actually be with horses. She’d only agreed to leave her own horse back at Angel River because Rory’s dad himself had promised to look after her. Sean McAdams was one of the few people Megan could always count on.

  Otherwise, she’d have had to find a place to board Earhart here in Weaver.

  “Enjoy the rest of your dinner,” she told them.

  J.D. lifted her wineglass in salute. “You, too.”

  They returned to their booth and the waiting pizzas, which hadn’t gotten cold at all.

  Feeling suddenly ravenous, Megan stopped worrying about trying to find space for her knees without knocking into his beneath the table. She spread her napkin on her lap and after plucking off several basil leaves, she eagerly took a slice. It wasn’t a very big pizza; just four pieces, meant for one person alone. And while she’d shuddered at the notion of a meat-covered pizza when they’d ordered, now she couldn’t help sneaking looks at Nick’s.

  He, on the other hand, was giving her a curious look. “What was that about earlier?”

  The mouthful of pizza suddenly seemed like glue. She forced it down with a gulp of lemonade. “Just, uh, an ulcer,” she lied, saying the first thing that popped into her head. “The bruschetta had some peppers that...” She trailed off because Birdie’s voice was suddenly circling inside her head.

  Once a liar, missy, always a liar.

  Nick was eyeing her plate. She’d already eaten more than he had. “Guess you’re feeling better now?”

  She nodded and forced a bright smile. “Oh, yeah. Ulcer’s pretty much healed. Pizza’s great, by the way,” she added in a rush that made her feel even more self-conscious. “A, uh, a lot better than the cup of ramen that I’d have been settling for.”

  “You know, there are other places you could stay besides the Cozy Night. There’s a chain hotel across town now—”

  “I know. But the Cozy Night’s inexpensive. I don’t need a lot. And the bed is comfortable enough.”

  She regretted the words as soon as she said them.

  “I remember.”

  She gave him a look and he spread his hands with an innocent expression she didn’t buy for a second.

  She squelched a sigh and let it go, focusing on her pizza again. “Sorry about your grandparents. Being separated and all.” She had no personal experience with families splitting up for the simple reason that there had been nothing to split. Her mother had abandoned Megan with Birdie when she’d been a baby. To Megan, Roberta was just a name. Which was one thing more than she knew about her nameless father. Even Birdie had never married.

  Her grandmother had been an independent woman during an era when independent women weren’t cool. And she’d raised Megan to be just the same.

  “Gloria’s actually my stepmom’s grandmother,” Nick said.

  “Does that make it any easier?”

  “Not really. It still sucks for everyone. Particularly at family events. They’re both there. They’re civil and all that, but everyone knows at the end of the day, she’s still living somewhere other than the Double-C Ranch.” He shook his head. “You’d think by the time you’re their age and have been together as long as they’ve been together, that your relationship would be cast in stone.”

  “You’ve got a stepmom. What about your parents?”

  “My mom died when I was nineteen.”

  She felt a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

  “Don’t be sorry. She was a great mom. I wouldn’t be the man I am now if not for her.” He sipped his beer. “Tell me about your family.”

  She picked off another piece of basil and wished she’d ordered the heart-attack special instead. “Nothing to tell.” That answer seemed safe enough. “There’s only me and my grandmother. She raised me. Normal family arrangements aren’t really in our DNA.”

  “Is there such a thing as normal?”

  “You know what I mean. Two parents. Two-point-five kids.”

  Nick just smiled and shook his head. But instead of making more of it, he pointed his fork at her plate and changed the subject. “If you don’t like basil, why’d you order a cheese-and-basil pizza?”

  Because at the time, it had seemed the blandest—and therefore safest—choice, considering her unpredictable morning sickness. Morning sickness that had no concept of when morning was.

  “I like basil,” she said. “Just don’t need a whole bushel of it.”

  He chuckled and extended his fork. “D’you mind?” He didn’t wait for a response before he scooped the fresh herbs off her plate and spread them on his slice.

  “Hey! Maybe I do mind.”

  He raised a dark eyebrow. “Were you going to eat it?”

  “No,” she allowed, “but I’m not asking for something off your pizza.”

  “My pizza’s hardly suitable for someone with an ulcer.”

  “I just said it was mostly healed.”

  “I had a roommate once with an ulcer. Guy couldn’t eat anything with a hint of spice. But it’s your stomach.” He used his fork to scrape several chunks of sausage from his pizza onto hers. “Is that better?”

  She made a grumbling sound even though it truly was so much better when her next bite of pizza included the slightly spicy, slightly crispy, slightly greasy sausage. Then she couldn’t help but make a sound of pure enjoyment. “Should’ve ordered the heart attack,” she mumbled when she could speak again. “Almost as good as Chef Bart’s.” She added the edge of crispy crust to the others that she was hoarding to save for the end.

  “He’s the chef at Angel River, right? Gage mentioned he was pretty impressive.”

  She nodded and tried not to eye the rest of Nick’s pizza too noticeably. “His chocolate croissants would make you weep.”

  “This place doesn’t have chocolate croissants, but they have pretty good cannoli.”

  She swallowed the last bite of her sad, sausage-free pizza and started on the crusts. “Cannoli?”

  He smiled and shook his head a little before he gestured for the server and ordered dessert. Then he silently slid his plate, with the remaining slice of his pizza, toward her.

  She supposed she ought to have been ladylike enough to pretend she didn’t notice. But she’d never wasted a lot of time trying to be something she wasn’t.

  And what she was was still hungry.

  “Thanks.” She scooped up the slice and bit into its heavenliness. Her eyes might have even rolled back in her head a little.

  The only thing that would have made the meal better was a frosty mug of beer. But Megan hadn’t had a lick of alcohol since she’d read the results on her pregnancy-test stick.

  “So,” she finally said once she’d finished the rest of his pizza and all of her crusts, “what have you come up with for the barn?”

  He nudged aside their empty plates and slid around the booth a few inches until he was sitting adjacent to her rather than across from her. It also meant that his thigh pressed against hers, but she was afraid if she tried to move, he’d know just how much he was disturbing her.

  So she sat dead still while he grabbed one of the unused napkins and pulled his keys out of his pocket.

  A stubby pen hung from the key chain.

  At the sight, a smile tugged at her lips. “You’re like a Boy Scout or something. Always prepared.”

&nbs
p; He gave a quick, twinkling-eyed smile, and beneath the table, Megan gouged her fingertips into her palm in a vain attempt to override the shiver suddenly rippling through her veins. Yes, the guy was still hot as ever. That didn’t mean she was comfortable with her damn response.

  Mercifully oblivious to her personal torment, he uncapped the pen and set aside his keys before making several quick marks on the napkin. “Construction trailer is here.” He tapped one corner of the napkin. “Lodge there.” He tapped the opposite corner. “Got it?”

  She flattened her palm again. “It’s not exactly rocket science. I think I can follow.”

  His lips twitched. “Okay, so the road comes up through here, where the trailer currently sits. Then it opens into parking here.” He circled his pen above the white napkin. “But if we extend the road above the lodge and come back down again on the other side, to the relocated parking lot—” he made a few more lines “—then the barn that was supposed to be there can be here.” He drew a quick rectangle topped by a pitched roof. “In the original location of the parking. And we can make it as big as it needs to be.”

  It was amazing what the man could do with a tiny Sharpie and a white napkin. In just a matter of seconds, he’d sketched out a miniature diagram of it all. “But the footprint of the parking lot is way bigger than the barn was. How—”

  “Multilevel parking structure.”

  “Won’t that be an eyesore?”

  He made a face. “Come on. I graduated from Princeton. I don’t design eyesores.”

  She, on the other hand, had graduated from Wymon High and finished her studies at that ordinary institution called life.

  “And it’s either this,” he continued, “or make your stable multistoried. Which seems more feasible?”

  “I guess the parking structure. But it seems to me that something like that is still going to detract from the beauty of the lodge itself.”

  “Ye of little faith.” He flipped over the napkin and started fresh. He quickly drew a more detailed version of the lodge that was strongly reminiscent of the beautiful rendering in the construction trailer and then drew the parking structure, which she had to admit was almost as beautiful. He stopped only long enough to order a coffee when the server brought their cannoli and the check. “You want one?”