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Colton’s guts twisted at the memory, and his vivid recollection of that night, lying in the straw, filled with the scent and feel of Cassie . . .
“Good thing Cassie was here,” Curtis rambled on, and Denver shot his brother a killing glance. “This little guy was all twisted up, one foot caught back. Cassie had to help Red Wing out.”
“I should’ve been here,” Tessa said, staring guiltily at the inquisitive colt. Peeking from behind his mother’s rump, he stretched his long neck and blinked. “He’s perfect!”
Her father hugged her shoulders. “That he is, gal.”
“It worked out,” Colton replied. He glanced to the far wall and the box stall where he’d spent nearly an hour in the delicious rapture of Cassie Aldridge. His insides melted. Just at the thought of their lovemaking, he felt his passion surge.
Jamming a fist into his pocket, he shifted, ignoring the lofty lift of one of Denver’s dark brows.
Denver pinned Curtis with a cool glance. “So now you’re a fan of Cassie Aldridge?”
“The girl knows her stuff,” Curtis said.
“And her father?”
He snorted. “Him I could live without.”
“Enough,” Tessa insisted. “Let’s not spoil all this.” She slipped into the box.
“I don’t know if this is such a good idea,” Denver said, turning his attention on his wife, but, as usual, when it came to horses, she ignored him and stroked Red Wing’s soft muzzle.
“It’s okay,” Tessa said, either to Denver or to the horse. Colton couldn’t tell which.
Denver’s gaze slid to his brother, and he eyed Colton’s suit. “Going somewhere?”
“To Nate and Paula Edwards’s party. You’re invited, too.”
Tessa gasped. “I’d forgotten all about it!”
Denver frowned at his pregnant wife. “It’s been a long day—”
“Don’t you try to weasel out of it,” she warned, eyeing him over her shoulder. “I promised Paula months ago!”
Denver’s scowl deepened. “I thought pregnant women were supposed to slow down.”
She laughed gaily. “Well, I guess you thought wrong. Paula’s pregnant, too, you know.”
Colton couldn’t swallow the smile that pulled on the corners of his mouth. He loved watching Tessa bully Denver. No one else had ever been able to tell his mule-headed brother anything, but Tessa, half his size and as clever as a fox, had managed to wrap Denver McLean around her little finger.
Denver, disconcerted, sighed. “Maybe we should look at the other animals. How’s Black Magic?”
“Better. But Tempest’s just not snapping out of it as quickly,” Curtis muttered, running a leathery hand around his neck and squinting thoughtfully. “Why don’t you two get changed, have a cup of Milly’s coffee, then we’ll take a look?”
“Let’s just do it now,” Denver said impatiently.
Tessa could barely tear herself away from Red Wing and the new foal, but Denver convinced her.
Inside the old foaling shed, Denver studied Black Magic, Tempest and the buckskin yearling, who was improving, though slowly.
Tessa’s face fell, her expression becoming dark. “Denver thinks this happened when Black Magic was stolen,” she said, her fingers gripping the top rail of the stall so tightly her knuckles blanched white.
Colton whispered, “So do I.”
She glanced up at him, then to Denver, who was talking with Curtis at the far end of the shed, near Tempest’s stall. “But he thinks someone did it on purpose.”
“You don’t?”
