I stand at the window of my office and watch as Tamara gently strokes Thunder’s head and talks to him in a low voice. He rubs his head affectionately against her. Gently, she leads him to the ring. She has an unexpected and completely natural gift when it comes to animals. I’ve always been a good judge of character, and every fiber of my being tells me that her bitchy façade is a hoax. She’s someone else entirely, but why on earth would she hide her true personality when it is so beautiful and appealing?

It’s incredible to think that she came here a little under two weeks ago. Feels as if she’s turned the place upside down, and not in the way I imagined either. All the men are fuckin’ half in love with her, and Emma Jean gives me looks blacker than the inside of a cow if I say anything about her that is not a downright glowing compliment.

I watch her saddle Thunder the way I taught her.

“Good girl,” I find myself whispering.

Then she mounts him. Her right leg is clumsy. Automatically, I hold my breath and silently pray that she doesn’t make any sudden moves that spook Thunder. Me praying? That’s a laugh.

Thunder stays still.

I sigh with relief when I see the happy grin on her face once she’s seated firmly on top of him. She says something to Butch, but I can’t make the words out. He raises his clenched fist high into the air to signal victory and she laughs. The musical sound wafts over to me.

I can’t help but slide my gaze down her body. It’s one helluva bod. That small and perky ass trapped inside tight jeans, and those breasts. They’re not huge, but they aren’t small by any means. I remember seeing a photograph of her in a magazine a few years ago, and I could’ve sworn they were much bigger. Very much bigger. Maybe she’s had the implants out. What I see now is a sight for sore eyes.

Round, full, ripe.

With the tip of her tongue slightly extended, she gives her total concentration to riding Thunder. Watching her becomes my entire world. It’s amazing how a single person can be so damned beautiful. She’s beyond beautiful. It hurts when a nasty voice in my head reminds me that all that buttercup and honey real estate I’m gawking at ain’t for me.

Her life is in LA.

She completes a circle and waves to Butch. He does the chicken dance and she laughs joyfully. Their obvious closeness irritates me. My gut burns with possessive fury. As if she’s mine.

How did a fucking scrawny kid like him get closer to her than me?

Fuck, I picked him deliberately, knowing that he isn’t exactly popular with women. With jealous, lustful eyes, I watch her stop Thunder next to Butch. The stallion stays calm, even though it is near a man, which surprises me. She has tamed him. She has actually tamed Thunder. She slides off the horse and they hug and dance around like a couple of idiots. I can’t even watch. I turn away and take a deep breath. I remind myself that she was never mine to begin with, which angers me even more.

Even though I try not to, I can’t help swiveling back to look. To my immense relief, they are no longer joined and are just standing two feet apart talking. I watch her get back on Thunder before I leave the window and exit the room. I know if I stay, I’ll end up doing or saying something I’ll regret later. When I’m around her, I don’t seem to have even the sense God gave a damned goose. I told her that I’d leave her alone from here on out, but I know I can’t honor the agreement.

I can’t seem to stay away from her.

As I walk back to my truck, Matt calls me on my cellphone.

“How’s the dick rider?” he asks.

I feel something tighten in my chest. I don’t want Matt to be disrespectful about her. “She’s riding Thunder as we speak,” I say to divert the conversation in a different direction.

“Whoa. Can you run that by me again? What the actual fuck do you mean she’s riding Thunder?”

I smile. “She’s sitting on Thunder and Thunder is moving.”

“You’d better be kidding me.”

“Nope.”

“What the fuck, Lars?” my brother swears. “Do you want a dead celebrity on your hands? Her old man will have a heart attack if he knew we put her on that bone breaker.”

“Calm down. Tamara figured out that Thunder will only accept females.” I think of Butch. “And it seems, feminine men too.”

“Right, that makes perfect sense, but I still can’t believe you risked it.”

“It wasn’t much of a risk. Thunder took to her instantly, and she’s got natural talent with horses. She’ll be okay. Besides, I’ve asked one of the guys to keep an eye on her while she practices.”

“You did what?”

“Just to make sure no harm comes to her. We don’t want old Honeywell breathing down our necks, right?”

“Right. Great move, bro.”

“I’m on my way out. Call you later?”

I end my call and walk to my truck parked not far from the barns. The first thing I do when I jump inside is to look in my rearview mirror. I see Thunder trotting around the field with Tamara seated straight and firm on his back. I’ve seen so many women ride horses, but Tamara is the second person who looks as if she belongs on the horse. As if the horse is an extension of her. The first person was Catherine.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out and look at the caller ID. “Sophia,” I greet with a small smile. I put my truck into drive.

“What’s going on?” my sister asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. Who is she?” Sophia asks. I can’t understand how she has determined that there is a girl in the picture from a single word.

“No, seriously. What are you talking about?” I insist.

“Lars, you’ve lost two trainers in like two weeks, and you haven’t called me to help with Thunder once. Thunder doesn’t take well to anybody, and I know you didn’t hire someone new to work with him. And just now, when you answered the phone, you had a lilt to your voice. You better tell me. I’m not asking you again, Bubba.”

I scowl at the nickname. “There’s nothing to tell because there’s nothing between us,” I growl.

“Us?”

“You’re making wild assumptions again. There is no us. She’s just here for a month then she’s gone.”

“Did you do that thing where you treated her like she was an inconvenience just by existing? Because you always do that when you don’t know how to act.”

I despise how well my sister knows me. “That may be why she hates my guts,” I admit.

“Oh, Lars. Ask her to dinner and bring her flowers. If she absolutely hates you, she’ll laugh in your face and turn you down. If you have a chance, she’ll accept. So, what’s she like?” Sophia asks.

Beautiful, smart, caring. “It’s Honeywell’s daughter.”

For a few seconds my chatterbox sister is struck dumb. “Which Honeywell?” she asks cautiously, even though she knows exactly which Honeywell.

“The Honeywell you’re thinking of.”

“Oh, my God! No. What are you thinking, Lars?”

I smile to myself. “What happened to ask her to dinner and bring her flowers.”

“That was before I knew it was Tamara. She’s horrible.”

I stop smiling. “Look, I gotta go.”

“Fine, but this conversation is not over,” she says seriously.