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PROLOGUE – NEW YEAR’S EVE
LONDON
I hurried across the restaurant, my face as red as the wine I’d spilled on my skirt.
Damn Donovan.
Damn him and his successful new girlfriend and his disbelief that I’d ever achieve my dream of opening an animal shelter. Iwasgoing to open my shelter. I just needed to get my ducks in a row first. How could he be so awful as to belittle me in front of the donors at the fundraiser I’d arranged for my current employer? I needed those people to take me seriously because, one day, I might be asking them to supportmynonprofit.
As for my parents? They’d just sat there and not said a thing in my defense. I knew they secretly believed all my talk would amount to nothing, but could they not at least have pretended otherwise?
I shoved the bathroom door open and stormed inside, glad to see it wasn’t occupied. I gripped the vanity with trembling hands and blinked back tears. I needed to get myself under control. I couldn’t afford to make a scene. Especially not considering I grew clumsier when I was upset—and I was clumsy enough to begin with.
I splashed my face with cold water and patted it dry, then used a hand towel to dab off as much of the wine from my dress as possible. I winced as I realized there would be no saving the outfit.
Okay. I drew in a long breath. No need to get worked up. I could do this. Only another couple of hours and I could go home, curl up in bed, and start looking for a suitable piece of land for my shelter.
I exited the bathroom feeling marginally more composed than when I’d entered. Or at least, I did until I crashed into a solid wall of man. I reeled backward, stumbling over my own feet, but strong hands caught me before I fell. I gazed up into a pair of deep brown eyes set in a classically handsome face. My breath caught.
“I’m so sorry,” I said as the stranger helped me upright.
He smiled warmly, and I felt a flutter in response. “My fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’m Cal.”
“London,” I said with a smile. Perhaps my luck was looking up.
1
CAL
I wasbeyond curious about my first appointment of the day. I’d heard rumors that a rich woman from the city had purchased one of the ramshackle farm properties outside of Destiny Falls with plans to convert it into a riding school, horse trekking company, and dog shelter, but I hadn’t put much stock in the stories at first. In my experience, much of the local gossip ended up having no roots in reality. But when my receptionist had told me the lady in question had requested a full checkup of the first two horses to arrive, I’d realized I’d been wrong.
As I pulled my Ute onto the gravel drive and arrived at the dilapidated farmstead, I shook my head in disbelief. Surely, the woman wasn’t actually living here. The house was in terrible condition, with holes in the roof and rotten boards aplenty. At least there was a group of guys from the local contracting firm already working on it. Perhaps the place would be livable in a few weeks.
I parked on a flat lawn near the house and raised a hand in greeting to the contractors, who waved back. I rounded the house, assuming the stables were behind, and hoping against hope that they weren’t in the same condition as the house. As far as I knew, the previous owner of this property hadn’t had horses. Or, if they did, they’d used a different veterinarian.
I breathed a sigh of relief as the stables came into view. Unlike the house, they appeared to have been recently built. Four stalls fronted onto a corral, and based on the size of the building, the tack and storage rooms must be located behind the stalls. Two mares—one bay and one chestnut—were grazing in the corral. When I approached the fence, the bay mare sauntered over, ears flicked forward, and extended her neck for a pat. I rubbed her muzzle and she snickered. On first inspection, she looked healthy. Bright eyes, a glossy sheen on her coat, and a well-proportioned body. The chestnut mare kept her distance, but from what I could tell, she seemed to be in good condition too.
I considered beginning the checkup but decided I ought to talk to the client before getting started. She’d said to meet her here, but she might have lost track of time. A pet peeve of mine. I headed to the building and knocked on the door behind the stalls. No answer. I opened it and found myself in a dim corridor. I closed the door and walked past a feed room and four stalls before reaching the tack room at the other end of the corridor. A woman was perched on a ladder several feet off the ground, fussing with some kind of equipment. I paused to appreciate the view. Her hair, a rich shade of chocolate brown, hung to just above her backside, which was encased by a pair of faded jeans.
“Hello,” I said.
She spun, giving me a glimpse of familiar dark eyes, before she shrieked and toppled off balance. The ladder rocked dangerously. I set down my traveling kit and raced forward, arms out, but I wasn’t fast enough to catch her before she hit the ground with a thud, landing on her ass. She groaned and squeezed her eyes shut.
A jolt of recognition hit me. That angular face. Those high cheekbones, and long, slim figure. It was the woman I’d met at the fundraiser a month ago. She’d been having a bad evening, and I’d bought her a glass of wine and tried to get her to open up but she’d been more interested in talking about animals and the charity than herself. At the end of the night, I’d been tempted to give her my number, but I did my best to keep my personal life a tidy, drama-free zone, and despite her sweet nature, she’d set off all of my longstanding ‘danger’ alarms, so I’d held back.
“Are you okay?” I asked, hovering over her. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
To my surprise, she laughed. “It doesn’t take much. I’m easily startled.” She picked herself up and dusted off her bottom. A faint blush turned her cheeks pink. “It’s Cal, right?”
