One by one, we bring all the horses back into the barn until they are all in their stalls except Thunder, who refuses to allow Lars to put a halter on him. He runs around the pasture and comes close enough only to tease him.

“Do you need help with him?” I ask.

“There’s nothing you can do,” he says in a long-suffering tone.

I make my way to him and grab the halter from his hand. He gives me a dirty look but continues shaking the bucket of grain. Thunder charges in our direction. Lars jumps in front of me and the horse immediately halts in his tracks about twenty yards away and shakes his head.

“For God’s sake, you’re scaring him. Now move,” I say, and push at the wall of muscle. It doesn’t budge an inch.

He gives me an irritated look and takes a step back.

“Thank you,” I say with excessive politeness before turning toward the horse. “Here, Thunder,” I call softly.

Keeping a close eye on Lars, he starts wandering in our direction, snorting with each step.

“Why does the damned horse listen to you? You’re not even a trainer,” Lars mutters. Thunder stands before me and shoves his snout under my armpit.

“Good boy,” I coo, pleased beyond measure that he seems to prefer me to Lars.

Lars takes a step toward him and the stallion immediately lifts his head and paws the ground with his right hoof.

“Seriously, Lars. Just stay back,” I say, barely able to keep the satisfaction out of my voice.

Glowering, Lars walks backward.

“How do I do this?” I ask.

From a few feet away, Lars explains how to place a halter around a horse’s head. Fortunately, the lead rope is already attached, so I exclude that step and pull the halter up behind Thunder’s ears. To my surprise, it seems as if the stallion has no problem being handled.

“This makes no sense,” Lars grumbles. “He used to be a racehorse so he should let anyone handle him.”

“Why don’t you just leave the halter on him when he’s in the pasture?” I suggest. “I’m pretty sure that’s what they do in movies.”

He shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck. “We’ve tried every type of halter out there and he always manages to get them off.”

I pet Thunder’s face and smile at him. “He seems to be doing fine with me. I can’t understand why you have such a hard time with him,” I deliberately gloat.

“Well, if he’s so cooperative with you, why don’t you try to lead him?” he asks snidely.

Thunder takes a step back when I take his lead, but I pat his cheek gently and give a small tug on his lead rope. To my delight, he follows obediently.

Lars groans and marches off into the barn while I laugh out loud.

When we make it to his stall, I look at the narrow entrance with confusion. How am I supposed to get him inside without going in first?

“Lead him in and turn so that you’re beside the door. Then take off the halter and the lead rope,” Lars explains.

I do exactly as he instructs and exit the stall. Thunder neighs happily and I smile up at Lars.

Lars looks down at me, his mouth tilted up on one side. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”

I shake my head, my body filling with a warm glow of happiness.

“Nobody here has been able to tame him yet. We were going to have to put him down if he wouldn’t cooperate. You just saved that horse.”

I smile and rub my hands together. “All in a day’s work,” I say with a broad, happy smile.

There is reluctant admiration in his eyes. “So, are you ready to start your riding lessons?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say with a great grin, and for the first time since meeting him, he gives me a genuine smile. It lights up his whole face.

Ohh…totally sexy!

There is a moment of awkward silence then he moves toward one of the stalls.

“We’ll start with mounting Misty,” he says, guiding a brown mare in my direction. I bounce on my toes with excitement and reach a hand toward the animal, but it is so placid it barely acknowledges my presence.

“How difficult is this part?” I ask, thinking back to all the horse movies I watched as a child.

“It’s the easiest thing I’ll be teaching you. How’s your balance?”

“Balance? Just fine,” I lie. Balance is not something that comes easily to me. I had more evidence of my lack of it when I was trying to walk in Tamara’s four-inch heels.

“Good. That will make this much easier,” he says.

I stand back as Lars ties the horse’s lead rope to a post and lays a blanket on the horse's back before tossing a saddle over it. He nudges the horse’s front hoof forward and begins connecting the straps. He turns to me and raises an eyebrow.

“What?” I ask.

“You have to take care of your horse for a month. You may want to know how to do this.”

I take a few small steps in his direction until I’m so close to him I can feel the heat coming from his body. The horse snorts and I lay my hand on its back instinctively. Lars grabs my wrist with his gloved hand and I stare at how big and powerful it looks compared to mine.

He places the strap in my hand. “Tie the back cinch to the one on the other side,” he instructs. He releases my wrist and it feels suddenly strange and empty.

I do as he asks.

“Make sure that it's tight. We don’t want the saddle to flip halfway through our lesson.”

I tighten it slightly more.

He frowns. “Tighter.”

“I don’t want to hurt her,” I protest.

Lars laughs, takes the strap, and pulls it harder than I would have ever done. “You won’t hurt her. She’s our training horse. She's used to being saddled. Besides, it is almost impossible to make the straps too snug, somehow it always ends up being too loose after a while.”

He finishes tightening the cinches—as he calls them—and I observe carefully, taking mental notes of the process and the way his muscles tighten beneath his shirt with every twitch of his body. When he lifts his arms to put the halter on the horse, his shirt catches on the saddle and the glowing ripped muscles of his abdomen show. I can’t help but stare at them in amazement. How does someone look this magnificent and be so totally unaware of their own beauty?

“Tamara?” It takes me a moment to realize that he’s speaking to me.

“Yeah,” I respond in a dreamy tone. My eyes travel slowly upward. That dip in his throat is just begging to be licked. Then my eyes collide with his and there is a knowing look in his. Shit! My face burns with shame. This is so not like me. Why am I behaving like some sex-starved nympho? I clear my throat and stand a little straighter. “I’m ready to begin,” I squeak.

“I’m sure you are,” he retorts with a smirk.

“Are we going to start? I’m getting sick of standing in here and smelling the horses,” I say rudely. The barn does hold the undeniable stench of animals, but I don’t mind. I just need an excuse to stop this awkward moment where I’ve stupidly revealed my attraction.

Lars’ jaw hardens and his eyes become flinty.

I try to pretend that I don’t care that he has seen me check him out. I’m not Cass after all—I’m Tamara. And Tamara wouldn’t blush at a handsome cowboy. She would be crude and, if she liked him, probably come onto him. God, the way she bounced on the red dick of that blond man.

Untying the horse’s lead rope from the door, Lars guides Misty out of the barn. We walk along the road and I sneak a look at his profile. It looks like it has been carved out of stone. He hates me, but it doesn’t matter. He can never know who I am so I mustn’t stop antagonizing him, or I’ll end up crushing hard and making a complete fool of myself.

We approach a small horse ring and my heart suddenly starts pounding. In the barn with all the other bigger horses, Misty seemed smaller, but out here on her own, she suddenly seems so high off the ground. Doubt fills me. Will I be able to do this? What if I fall off the horse and can’t get back on? What if I am unable to finish this project? Why did I think I’d be able to do this?

“I don’t know about this,” I mumble, stopping cold in my tracks.

Lars turns to face me. “It’s not hard. Come on. You can do it,” he encourages softly.

“I don’t know,” I whine. Amazing, but after just one day, complaining has become almost second nature. If my father could hear me now he’d be shocked.

“What are you talking about? You were so excited about learning to ride just a moment ago.”

I gulp and shake my head. “I’ll fall and break my neck. I won’t be able to stay on the horse. I lied before. My balance is awful. I’m the clumsiest person I know,” I admit.

His lips quirk up with amusement. “Tamara,” he croons, and I stare at him with surprise. He’s always been so gruff and stern with me I would never have guessed he could be so gentle. “I’ve taught children in wheelchairs and kids with other physical handicaps to ride horses. For a while, we even used to have a summer program for autistic children. You will do great as long as you listen to me.” He looks deep into my eyes and the gentle simplicity in his face makes my breath hitch. Suddenly, I know without a doubt that I can trust this man with my life.

“I believe you,” I whisper.