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Christ, they lived in very different worlds. Shep thought Bentleys were a waste of money. Sure, they were flashy, but spending that kind of money on a car that couldn’t be put to work was worthless. Now, spend that money on a souped-up Ford F-150, and they’d be talking. “Bentley it is.” He turned away from Emma as Danny drew closer. Shep met him halfway, taking Tadgh’s reins. “Thanks for bringing him, Danny.”
“No problem.” Danny tipped his hat in Emma’s direction. “Good evening, Ms. Monroe.”
“It’s Emma,” she said with a polite smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Danny half grinned, putting on the charm Shep was sure worked with the younger ladies. “I’m glad to see you up and walking,” Danny said.
Her expression became pained. “I take it you were there to help me in the field, then?”
“Yes, miss, I was,” Danny said, resting his hands on the horn of the western saddle. He was also one of the guys who had wrangled Bentley into the sand ring after the accident.
Emma gave a long-suffering sigh, then said, “Well, even if I might be embarrassed to know that more than one person actually saw me in that condition, I’ll still say thank you for helping me.”
Danny laughed. “I’d say anytime, but I think that might give the idea I want to see you like that again, which isn’t the case.”
Emma’s sweet soft laugh warmed Shep as Danny turned to him. “Call if you need anything else.”
“Will do.” Shep smiled. “Thanks again.”
Danny waved as his response, clicked once, and took off cantering up the hill.
Shep turned his focus onto Tadgh, his seventeen hands, big-boned, black warmblood. While he began untacking him, Emma moved to Tadgh, petting his face. “Ah, better be careful there, he won’t let you stop petting him once you start.”
“He’s cute.” She grinned, rubbing her hand down his face. “I don’t mind one bit.”
Tadgh dropped his face against her chest, and if he were a cat, he’d have been purring. Shep was momentarily jealous of his horse before he grabbed off the western saddle and pad, setting both against the fence.
“Come on, boy, enough love.” He led Tadgh toward the gate and unlatched the lock. Once they walked through, Bentley snorted, head high, on full alert. Shep sighed and removed Tadgh’s bridle, then left the ring, relocking the gate.
“Is this wise?” Emma asked, stepping onto the bottom railing to see over the top. “Could Bentley hurt Tadgh?”
Shep settled in next to her, resting his arms on the wooden fence, one cowboy boot on the bottom railing next to hers. “Tadgh will teach Bentley more than I could. He’ll show him that there is nothing to fear, and that’s what we want for Bentley. We want him to begin trusting us.”
As he expected, Tadgh went straight for the hay, ignoring Ben
tley entirely. “Bentley’s had a hard life,” Shep continued. “He’ll settle in. I don’t doubt it. He just needs to see and believe that we’re not here to hurt him.”
Emma’s brows rose. “How will you do that?”
Shep leaned forward, getting close enough to inhale her flowery perfume. “By showing him that my touch doesn’t hurt, it heals.”
Her breath hitched, lips parted, cheeks flushed. She clearly read that he’d directed that message to her too.
Christ, he wanted to grab her and act on all that heat pouring out of her. Instead, he drew in a long breath, exhaling through his nose. “For now, let’s call it a night. I need a shower. You need rest.”
She stood speechless, unblinking, obviously captivated by the passion between them.
With a smile, he kept hold of the bridle, grabbed his saddle and pad to leave on the porch, and strode away. He liked her speechless. It evened the playing field. Now he wasn’t the only one fighting to stay in control.
Chapter 4
Ten minutes later, Emma finished putting the dishes that she’d left to dry after dinner away and flicked the lights off. On her way upstairs, she locked the front door, taking one last look at the horses in the ring. The sun had begun to set, casting a pinkish hue across the sky. Bentley still hadn’t moved. At least he wasn’t pacing the fence anymore, silently watching Tadgh enjoy the hay. That had to be a good sign.
No matter what, she couldn’t fail at helping him. To do so would be like failing Grams herself, and that she simply couldn’t allow. A tickle in the back of her throat had her fighting back emotion. Oh, how easy it would be to admit failure and crumble into the dark empty hole of depression. That hole looked inviting. Quiet. Peaceful, even.
Emma cleared her throat, lifting her chin, not allowing herself to sink to where her mind and heart wanted to take her. She was tired, that was all. Thick, heavy exhaustion weighed on her right down to her dragging feet while she turned and headed up the stairs, the quiet house all around her. She reached the landing and strode by the bathroom right as the shower turned on. She’d been in this house for weeks now by herself; even that sound of knowing she wasn’t alone brought comfort.
Tomorrow morning, Shep would go home.
