Ethan opened the door and stood in the entrance of Bea’s Diner. The ghosts of his past danced in his vision as his gaze took in the familiar surroundings. How long had it been since he’d stepped foot into town?
Too long, Harper would retort. News had leaked he’d returned home, but he’d refused to go into town for the last month, and his sisters had been covering his ass so no guests showed up at his bungalow door. But even he realized he couldn’t keep pretending he wasn’t part of the town to avoid questions.
The place hadn’t changed. Still the standard diner model, with red booths, black-and-white checkered floors, and a large breakfast counter with high-topped spinning stools. The antique jukebox still stood in the corner, belting out classic hits from the nineties and the occasional disco pop. He’d spent his youth in the right back booth with his crew of friends, eating bacon burgers with cheese fries and spinning elaborate dreams of what they’d accomplish: His best friend, Kyle, vowed to be a famous writer on par with King. His cousin, Hunter, swore he’d take Manhattan by storm and be richer than Bloomberg. Ophelia intended to sing onstage and change people with music. And him? He’d wanted to save people and get into Special Forces. Be the fucking hero of the world.
So that others may live.
His gut clenched. The room began a slow, sickly spin that was all too familiar. The breath strangled in his lungs, and he grabbed for calm, closing his eyes, trying desperately to focus on an empty room with no noise, no sound, no memory. Not here. Not now, when he was facing people for the first time. One breath. Two. Three. Slow and steady. Four . . .
“Ethan Bishop!”
His name came from a distance, but somehow he managed to connect back with the present, and the panic attack slowly receded to lie in wait for another time. He blinked, focusing on the woman wearing a high beehive of gray hair, blue eye shadow, and hot-pink lipstick. Her outfit matched her lips, from the frilly, pink apron wrapped around hot-pink leggings and matching T-shirt that was way too tight for her age, to the pink Converse high-top sneakers. He was immediately attacked in a warm hug, and the scent of lilacs still clung to her skin.
“Bea, good to see you.”
After the hug, she belted him hard in the arm, brown eyes filled with indignation. “Where the hell you been hiding? I spoke to your sisters, asking when you’ll be in for your usual, and all I get is a bunch of excuses. You too good for us now? You get your burgers at the fancy-schmancy Five Guys now instead of us?”
He laughed. Bea was both the owner and the best waitress in town. “Never. Just needed to settle in. Fixing up the bungalow and helping out a bit.”
“When are you going to shave that atrocity? I can’t see your face.”
His lips twitched. “I will, eventually.”
“How’s your leg? You seem to be walking fine. No cane?”
“No, the PT has helped. Surgeries were successful. I’m good.”
“Then I expect to see you more. Brian’s been asking about you at the comic book store—you know how damn grouchy he is—and Fran’s driving me nuts since she opened up that natural-foods market in town. She says it’s failing and not competing with Whole Foods in the town over. You need to see Tattoo Ted—his cousin had leg surgery, and he wanted to talk to you—and Lacey said she wants you to come to dinner to meet her coworker, who’s single, pretty, and dying to meet you. Heard you got a new worker at the horse farm.”
“Yep, that’s why I’m here. I need to talk to Judge Bennett.”
“Right at his usual table, sweetie. I’ll bring you over coffee. Still like the ham-and-cheese omelet?”
“Yes, please.”
“You got it.”
The scents of coffee and bacon filled the air. He stopped to say a few casual words to the locals throwing him greetings and a barrage of questions before finally reaching the booth. “Judge Bennett?”
The older man was reading the paper and didn’t look up. Ethan waited patiently, knowing the drill. The man’s bald head gleamed to a high polish, and he wore his usual black suit, freshly pressed, with one red carnation in the lapel. He went to Sally’s Floral Shop every morning before heading to court. Ethan once asked him why he bothered to wear a fresh flower when it was covered by his robe. The judge replied he knew it was there, and the routine reminded him to make a fresh effort each day to offer his best, so it didn’t matter that no one else knew. Now Ethan realized the wisdom of the words that hadn’t made any sense when he was younger.
“Ethan Bishop.” His name snapped out with perfect precision. “Please join me.”
He slid into the seat. Bea dropped a mug of coffee and creamer in front of him. “It’s good to see you,” he said politely. “How are you?”
The judge snorted. His dark eyes gleamed behind his sparkling black-framed glasses. “I have arthritis and a lack of tolerance for acidity. Doctor said to stay away from all food and drink that causes a flare-up, so I’m stuck shopping at Fran’s new organic café. It’s too expensive, though. She’s not doing too well with her rate of consumership.”
“I heard. Sir, I was hoping I could discuss something important with you.”
“Chloe Lake.”
“Yes. I appreciate you thinking of Robin’s Nest, but I don’t think it’s the right fit. She has no experience with horses or farms, and I think she’d be a better fit serving her sentence at Tantillos Farm. They’re always looking for extra help in the summer at the warehouse. She can check people out, help with the ice-cream stand, and I know they’d appreciate it.”
Judge Bennett forked up his egg on a piece of toast and neatly popped it in his mouth. Bea floated over, set down Ethan’s omelet with ketchup, winked, and disappeared. “Do you know her father is running for mayor?”
“Yes, I do. Her aunt is here for the summer since Lake was unable to be here. Did you ever think of allowing her to serve her sentence in Manhattan? It would be easier for the family that way.”
“Professor Altman was approached by Lake to make the charges go away. As if just the mention of money, power, or politics is enough to forgive a crime. Chloe needs to be taught actions have consequences. I worked with your mother for years, and every time I sent her a troubled youth, he or she emerged differently. It was a mutually beneficial relationship. I miss that.”
Ethan’s heart panged as he stared at the elderly man who’d served his town with pride and believed old-fashioned work could cure ails. The judge had always been good to his family and respected his mother. “I miss her, too,” he said a bit gruffly.
“I deliberately assigned Chloe there because she needs an experience contradictory to her city culture. Animals help heal wounds if allowed.” Judge Bennett’s gaze suddenly lifted and drilled into his. Ethan swallowed. “You should know that best out of all of us, Ethan.”
He ignored the words loaded with meaning and focused on the real problem. “I’m sorry we can’t take on volunteers like we used to, but Harper is slammed. The farm has grown, and there’s no people to train her.”
“You can. Never seen anyone so skilled with a broken horse or a person in trouble. Always had a gift.”
Pain exploded in his gut. Ethan no longer had that skill, but arguing would be useless. The judge sipped his coffee, flipped the page, and fired another bomb at him. “Why haven’t you been in town? It’s been a month since you got back.”
Ethan shifted in his seat. The judge never avoided sticky subjects—just dove right in without apology. “Been busy.”
“Bullcrap. You’ve been avoiding us because it’s easier. Easier to ignore us and pretend nothing ever happened. That you didn’t go away and get hurt and come back changed. But you’re also not allowing us to claim you as ours, and even though it’s been years, you belong to this town, Ethan Bishop. The faster you realize it, the better things will be.”
Shock rippled through Ethan. The words hit home, but the judge didn’t even bother to look up. Just kept reading his paper and continued speaking.
“Do you remember when you damaged the stone wall at the college during an evening of debauchery with your friends?”
Ethan bit back a groan. “How could I forget? You made Kyle and me scrub the stone wall with small specialty brushes. It took us over four hours to get it clean.”
“You never damaged another item in this town, though, did you?”
He sighed. “No.”
“Chloe Lake needs to feel needed. There’s something she’s hiding about the crime, too. Maybe you can get it out of her.”
“I’m not a child therapist. I’m just here to oversee her work so she can return to school and I can get back to my life.”
The judge nodded. “A worthy goal. Just not very honest.”
Ethan refused to touch the comment. It stung too much. “You won’t change your mind?”
“No. You need to contact Lacey Black. She’d like to invite you to dinner so she can introduce you to someone.”
“Yeah, I heard. I’m not interested in being set up with anyone right now.”
“Understood. But it would be nice if you called her anyway.”
The man turned back to his paper, and the table fell silent. Ethan finished his omelet, all hopes of shedding himself of Mia Thrush vanishing as quickly as a man the morning after a one-night stand.
Hopefully, he scared her enough yesterday. Hopefully, she’d be happy enough locked up at the inn and content to stay away from his rude, boorish behavior.
Hopefully.
Mia pushed her laptop away and stared out the window. This was her third day at the inn. So far, she’d logged in countless hours of work in her air-conditioned room and, with the aid of Gabby, had all her current clients under control. There were no crises, scandals, or dramatic interludes to fix. She checked in with Jonathan daily and was able to report Chloe was doing well. She disappeared at nine a.m. to go to the stables, worked all day, and arrived back at the inn around four. She retired to her room until about six, and then Mia took her to eat somewhere in town. They made strained conversation, then returned to their separate rooms. Mia worked some more in between bouts of television, went to bed, and started all over.
She was bored out of her frikkin’ mind.
Everything was too quiet. Too peaceful. Too . . . perfect. It was like being trapped in a robotic Stepford-land where nothing could be real. The colors were bright, the air was sweet, and even the sounds of birds chirping and horses softly neighing added to the mystical element of falseness. Ophelia was always cheerful, giving her helpful information and running the inn with ruthless organization. Mia had stayed far away from the guests, choosing to eat breakfast in her room instead of the packed porch, and only ventured out when everyone had scattered for the day to engage in various activities.
She hated it here.
Groaning, she covered her face with her hands and wondered what she should do. She’d go stark-raving insane if she had to spend eight more weeks doing this. Her business was usually full of chaos and activity, but summer was definitely a downtime, and it seemed her clients had retired to laze away on vacation and not cause any issues. No one had leaked the news about Chloe. Other than a few appearances, the summer was clear for Lake, and most of the craziness wouldn’t begin before fall. Add her awful insomnia problem, and she’d go mental. Her dad had diagnosed her as high strung, but it was only the past few years that her failure to sleep had reached epic proportions. At least in Manhattan, she always had a place to go. She’d walk by the bagel place at four a.m. just to smell the scent of carbs. Hit the all-night gym for a good workout. There were endless possibilities to help her not think about how she never slept. But here?
Nothing but silence. Who was the idiot who said silence was golden? It certainly didn’t help her sleep. And she had no place to go but the front porch.
What if she was stuck doing nothing all summer trapped in la la land?
She had to get out of here.
Decision made, she freshened up her makeup, donned her favorite camel-colored Ugg sandals, and headed into town. She’d explore a bit and pick up some groceries. She’d been living on fruit, Greek yogurt, and tuna, portioning out her meals. She’d managed to drop another pound and a half, which was a huge success, even though she was hungry and regularly cranky.
At least she’d be able to order that new Gucci dress now.
She climbed into her Kia and headed into town, turning right and deciding to do a drive-by before parking and exploring on foot. The standard Main Street was small but had a quirky, artsy type atmosphere she appreciated. Indie bookstores, yoga-and-art studios, cafés, and various restaurants adjoined the uneven sidewalks. There were at least three college bars, one boasting a nightclub, and a tattoo parlor that looked deserted. She wondered how many people got tats after getting drunk. It was a good location but looked kind of seedy.
She’d always wanted one, but it seemed too reckless. Too permanent. Too bad girl.
Now, she was too old.
Tamping down a regretful sigh, she parked the car and took her time investigating the town. She bought a skinny vanilla latte in the organic coffee shop and had to admit it was better than any Starbucks she’d ever had. There was a diner, movie theater, and a few standard stores, including a supermarket, hardware, and pharmacy. The boutiques were filled with cotton blends, vintage designs, and yoga wear. Cute, but nothing she’d buy.
The real problem was the sweets.
Mia had never seen so many shops dedicated to sugar. There was the bakery that tempted her with scents of fresh bread and pastries. Then there was the chocolate shop, filled to the brim with truffles, chocolate-covered pretzels, chocolate-dipped gourmet apples and strawberries, and dozens of other items meant to drive women with PMS mad with lust.
But Mia surmised the worst of the worst were the ice-cream shops. Every person walking down the streets seemed to be holding an ice-cream cone. Her body shuddered with longing, and her stomach growled in protest. What was wrong with this town? How could they offer vegan specialties and organic coffee on the same block as candy, ice cream, and cookies?
By the time she’d finished exploring, she was in a bad mood. Maybe she’d stop at one of the cafés and surprise Chloe with lunch. She was due a few more calories before dinner, right? Even Gucci would allow a little bit more.
She pushed her way into the Market Food Pantry and browsed the aisles, more and more impressed with what New Paltz had accomplished in the food industry. It rivaled Whole Foods in many ways, from the packed deli and fruit-and-produce aisles, to the assortment of homemade soups and salads for lunch hours. She filled her basket to take home to the inn and wondered why the store was empty. It was prime time, and no one seemed to be here.
Did everyone eat ice cream for lunch here instead? Did people magically not gain any weight in this town?
She picked out a vegetable soup with miso broth, a kale salad, and organic balsamic vinaigrette dressing. When she came to the prepared food aisle, she gasped.
It was perfection.
Fresh salads with grilled Japanese eggplants, mashed sweet potatoes, perfectly rare tuna with wasabi and peppercorns, chilled jumbo shrimp with homemade horseradish cocktail sauce, quinoa with cranberry and walnuts—the list was endless. Each was beautifully labeled, calories counted, and available in various sizes.
“Welcome to the Market,” a cheerful voice greeted. “We have free samples for you to enjoy. Is there anything specific I can help you with today?”
The woman had tight, curly brown hair, as if it had been permed too many times and had finally surrendered. She wore jeans, a hunter-green shirt with the Market logo, and no jewelry. Her dark eyes looked weary, but her smile was genuine. Mia noticed that her name tag pegged her as MANAGER.
“Your store is amazing,” she said genuinely. “So much better than Whole Foods.”
The woman’s lip began to tremble. Her chin quivered. In horror, Mia watched the manager struggle for about half a minute until she surrendered fully to the emotional experience.
She burst into tears.
Mia swallowed hard and took a step back. Her New Yorker instincts told her to run and let this woman handle herself, but her heart softened at the outpouring of real emotion she rarely saw in her daily routine. Emotion was the first thing to go in the PR business. Mia lost her ability to cry or grieve a long time ago. This woman still had a chance.
“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” she asked gently.
The woman grabbed a tissue from her pocket and wiped her eyes. She wasn’t a pretty crier, either. Her nose swelled and turned red, and her eyes dripped messy tears, not the dainty trickle, like in the movies. “No, I’m sorry!” she wailed. “I just don’t understand! I did all the research, poured every last dollar into this endeavor, yet people won’t shop here. They’re still traveling half an hour to go shop at the other places! What have I done wrong?”
Mia bit her lip. “Umm, when did you open?”
The woman gave a big, messy sniff. “Over a month ago. We had traffic the first few days, then nothing. It’s like we don’t exist. They’ll go to the café and the farmers’ market and the diner, but no one comes here. Are you from out of town?”
“Yes, I am.”
The woman cried harder. “That’s what I thought! I’ll never make this business run on the occasional out-of-towners. I can’t figure it out. I haven’t slept with anyone or made Sylvia Daniels mad at me or picked a fight with Darla from bingo. I’ve done nothing!”
Mia looked frantically around for help, but there was no one there. “Umm, maybe it’s just going to take some time to catch on. With good referrals and a solid landing page on Yelp, maybe you can pull in more traffic from the surrounding areas.”
The woman mopped her face with a tissue. “Maybe. I’m sorry, this isn’t your problem. What’s Yelp?”
Mia blinked. “Yelp. On the internet. It’s a reviewer service where people rate stores, hotels, shops, etc. You should be on it.”
“Okay, I’ll look it up tonight.”
Mia shook her head, wondering what owner in her right mind didn’t know about Yelp. This town was definitely strange. “Great. I’m sure things will pick up. I think it’s a lovely store.”
The woman beamed. “Thank you. I’m Fran. What’s your name? Where are you staying? What are you doing in town?”
“Mia. I’m over at the Robin’s Nest B & B in Gardiner for vacation with my niece.” The lie rolled off her tongue gracefully. “Taking some time away from the city.”
“How wonderful! Ophelia will take good care of you. And now that Ethan’s back, I bet the horseback-riding lessons will pick up again. He’s a true horse whisperer, and we’re thrilled to have him back.”
Back? Hmm, maybe this was an opportunity to get the dirt. “Yes, I bet. He was away a long time, right? About—”
“Eight years. Came home for his mama’s funeral, then left shortly after that. ’Course he always had big dreams. Never wanted to run the inn or farm like his sisters. How’s his leg doing?”
She tilted her head. Interesting. She’d suspected he walked a bit differently, as if favoring one leg over the other, but she’d been too distracted by his other annoying qualities. “Better.” Mia buried her guilt and pushed on. “Shame what happened, huh?”
Fran’s face lost all traces of animation. Her brown eyes filled with a dark emotion and . . . sympathy? Pity? For annoying horse man? Even her voice changed to a seriousness that made goose bumps prickle on her skin. “It’s a tragedy. After everything Ethan’s gone through, he didn’t deserve this. I hope he can find some peace at home. Now, let me stop my babbling and check you out. Anything else?”
She went on pure impulse and decided to surprise Chloe with lunch. And Ethan. Maybe she should make an effort. Move past their difficult first meeting. She’d be the better person. “Actually, can you pack up a platter of turkey wraps, hummus with veggies, and the sweet potato mash? I’ll need silverware and napkins, too.”
“Of course! Oh, I hope you like it. Please come back and let me know.”
“I will.”
Mia left the Market with a lighter step. It was nice to talk to another person in town and get a bit more on the mysterious Ethan. Had he been in a bad car accident? It was the only scenario that made sense. Had he been at another farm and decided to come back home? No, that wouldn’t make sense. Maybe he had gotten another job and decided to leave after he hurt his leg.
The idea of such an arrogant, powerful man hiding a physical weakness bothered her. Imagining him in pain made her stomach feel funny. Even though he pissed her off, she didn’t like the idea of him hurting or dealing with the aftereffects of a bad experience. She’d had a client once who’d been in the hospital for weeks after a car wreck, and he had terrible nightmares for months.
Why was that familiar deep clanging in her gut warning her of a mistruth? Like she was missing something big. Something more than a car crash.
She had to dig further and find out. For now, she’d bring lunch as a peace offering and see if they could be civil.
Mia drove back to the inn, reapplied a healthy amount of sunscreen to her face and a spritz of bug spray, and took the path toward the horse barn. She walked slow so she wouldn’t trip, taking a deep breath of fresh air. Her lungs tried to rebel, but she forced more in. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. All that smoke and smog and city sweat had to have a long-term effect on her health. By the end of summer, it’d be like returning from fat camp.
The woods broke away to reveal the red barns against the magnificence of green hills and mighty mountains. Horses grazed over the land, and the hum of chatter drifted in the breeze. She walked into the barn, following the human voices, and found Chloe and John in the barn.
They were both squeezed into a stall with a gigantic black horse. John was giving directions as Chloe rubbed a brush over the horse in circular motions. The horse’s head lifted at Mia’s interruption, and he or she snorted, studying her briefly before turning away in pure dismissal. Guess Wheezy was the only one who liked her around here. Who would’ve thought animals could be so high maintenance? Mia moved closer and cleared her throat.
They both turned toward her. “Hi, Mia,” Chloe called out. “John’s showing me how to groom the horses.”
Her black-lipped smile seemed genuine. Mia smiled back, happy the girl appeared to like her servitude and wasn’t miserable. She had even begun wearing full pants instead of Daisy Duke shorts. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I brought lunch for everyone. Are you allowed to take a break?”
John grabbed a rag, wiping his fingers. “I think we can manage a break,” he said with a grin. “Ethan’s out in the back; I’ll let him know. Chloe, why don’t you grab Sam from the fields and have him join us, too.”
“Got it.” She gave the horse a pat on the rear, put the brush down, and stepped out of the stall. Her purple hair was knotted and damp with sweat. Her shirt and jeans were covered in dirt, and her makeup had smudged over her face from the heat.
But she looked . . . happy.
Mia’s curiosity peaked. She’d bet that after a few days, the girl would be miserable doing manual labor, but it seemed she was embracing the change.
“I’ll be right back,” John said. “Hey, Mia, why don’t you feed Clarabelle a carrot while we’re gone? She deserves a treat.”
Her eyes widened. “Umm, I don’t know.”
His brown eyes twinkled. “There’s nothing to it. Just offer her the carrot, and she’ll take it. Not scary at all.”
Clarabelle turned her massive head and waited. Did she understand the word carrot? Didn’t seem like a big deal. It might be a good idea to get a bit more comfortable around the horses. John and Chloe disappeared, leaving her alone in the barn. Ignoring her rapidly pounding heart, Mia reached down and took a carrot from the bag.
Clarabelle moved closer to the slots in the stall, pushing her nose out, sniffing wildly. She could do this. It was just a carrot. Dragging in a breath, she offered the carrot out, holding the very end so she wouldn’t have to get near any lips or teeth or tongue.
Clarabelle opened her mouth, grabbed the carrot, and took a bite. Her teeth crunched through the treat, and Mia practically laughed with the thrill of victory. She’d done it! Clarabelle reached for it again, but this time, she tugged hard, as if trying to swallow the whole thing. Mia’s fingers grabbed for purchase around the slippery vegetable, and the carrot fell to the ground.
Clarabelle regarded her with pure irritation.
Mia stared back. “Umm, aren’t you going to pick it up from the ground and finish it?”
Clarabelle gave a disgusted snort and pawed the ground.
Mia peered through the slots. The carrot had fallen close to the door. Did horses refuse to eat fallen vegetables? She looked around, but the barn was devoid of humans. Maybe she could just open the door, grab the carrot, and give it back to her?
Irritated by her fear of a silly horse, she set the lunch bags down on the bench and grabbed the latch to the gate. Pulling upward, the door swung a few inches open, and she reached down for the carrot.
Clarabelle nipped at her hair.
With a shriek, Mia fell back, and the door swung completely open. “Hey, no touching!” she scolded. “I’m trying to get you the stupid carrot!”
Clarabelle ignored her and began walking forward.
“What are you doing? Go back. Go back now.”
With a swish of her tail, Clarabelle clomped calmly out of her stall and right past her, heading for the open acres behind the barn.
Uh-oh.
Mia blinked, watching the horse disappear around the corner, and knew she’d done something very, very wrong.
“Heard you brought us lunch.”
The voice was a twist of sand and silk. Ethan walked into the barn with Chloe at his side. He looked half rugged cowboy, half Grizzly Adams. That massive ginger beard hugged a pair of sensual lips, but it was the only soft spot about him. Every muscled inch looked lean and mean, evident under the snug blue T-shirt and worn jeans that lovingly cupped his powerful thighs. His gaze matched his hard features as he studied her, like he was assessing her intentions of bringing lunch. Did he think she was going to poison him or something?
“Yes. Thought I’d be nice and treat you, since I came from town.”
“I’ll set it up on the picnic table,” he said. “Do we need plates or silverware?”
“No, it’s all in the bag. I think I should tell you something.”
“You can tell me while we eat; I’m starving.” He regarded her with grudging appreciation. “This was really nice of you.”
“No problem. Umm, Ethan, there was a bit of an incident.”
“Let’s go, Chloe. You finished brushing all the horses, right?”
“Yes, Clarabelle was the last one and—” Chloe stared at the empty barn. “Wait, where is she?”
Ethan paused midstride. “Did John take her?”
“No, I’m here, boss,” John said behind him. “She’s in her stall.”
“No, she’s not.”
“Yes, she is. Mia was going to feed her carrots.”
Mia bit her lip as three pairs of eyes turned toward her. Ah, crap. “And I did. But I kind of dropped the carrot, so I had to open the door to get it, and then she kind of—well, she kind of walked off.”
Ethan’s jaw clenched. “What? Where did she go?”
Mia pointed toward the back fields. “Out there.”
Ethan muttered something under his breath and stomped past her. “Why didn’t you call someone?”
“It happened so fast. I’m sure she’s not far.” They raced to the edge of the barn and surveyed the fields. “Maybe she’s eating hay. Or visiting a friend.”
Ethan cut her a withering glance. “No, she’s a runner, and these fields aren’t fenced in. They lead to the horseback-riding trails.”
“Is that bad?”
“It’s over fifty acres of property, and she could be anywhere. You do the math.” He turned and motioned toward John. “Let’s head out and see if she’s on the south side. Grab Sam, too. Chloe, go eat and wait for me to get back.”
“Ethan, I’m—”
Suddenly, he leaned in. She stared, fascinated by the heat in his stinging blue eyes, the clench of his jaw, the flare of his nostrils. The scent of sweat and musk and horses swirled around her in an almost animalistic energy. Feet rooted to the floor, she could only wait for him to speak.
“I knew you’d be trouble. Five minutes and you’ve already cost me valuable time and lost my horse. Don’t you have any respect at all for the work we do around here?”
Her mouth fell open. “I just wanted to get the carrot!”
“And I told you to do one thing: stay out of my barn. This isn’t a petting zoo or a place you can amuse yourself when you’re bored. Do us all a favor next time and get a manicure instead.”
Her head began to swivel in pure rage. “Are you kidding me?”
“Trust me, princess. I’m not kidding anyone. From now on, there’s one rule around here, and it’s sacred, so I’ll repeat it.” His gaze pinned hers, full of masculine temper and a primitive energy that whipped around him. “Stay out of my barn.”
He marched past her, barking out orders, and within minutes, he’d mounted a pretty black horse and took off down the trail without a backward glance.
How dare he? It had been a genuine mistake, and she’d even tried to apologize. But this man couldn’t care less about good intentions or peace offerings. He’d truly shown his black soul, and she refused to spend another minute in his company ever again.
She’d die before she spoke another word to him.
D-I-E.
“He’s protective over the horses,” Chloe finally said, breaking the awkward silence. “I could’ve made the same mistake. It’s not your fault.”
Mia nodded, grateful for the support. It was the first nice thing the girl had offered her. “Thanks. But if he ever speaks like that to you, tell me. I’ll kill him myself.”
The girl shrugged. “He’s super nice to me. But you guys have been fighting since you met. Maybe you should just stay out of each other’s way?”
Mia sighed. “I’ve come to the same conclusion. Come on, let’s go eat some lunch.”
They ate. Instead of her usual silence, Chloe opened up and chattered about what she was learning about horses and the rescue efforts at the barn. Mia realized if she kept the topics away from Chloe’s father, her friends, her future, or her past, she was in the safe zone.
Mia made a mental note to focus on horses.
Ethan still wasn’t back after lunch, so she left the men their share, cleaned up the garbage, and headed back to the inn. Maybe she’d take a nap. Or play Candy Crush. Or check up on all her clients’ social media pages to make sure she wasn’t missing anything. At a time she was ready and willing to dive into the glorious mess of work, no one needed her.
She’d make sure she did one thing, though.
She intended to tell Ethan Bishop exactly what she thought of his unacceptable behavior. She’d made an honest mistake, and that was no way to talk to a paying guest. If she were a tattletale, she’d march right up to Ophelia and complain. What if she wrote them a bad review? That would teach him.
Still fuming, Mia counted down the hours until she could pounce.